Heat Wave(104)

And yet I still had hope. Sometimes you tell yourself to expect the worst, sometimes you let yourself become jaded and realistic, because you know the chances of getting burned are high. And yet, no matter how much you try and harden your soul, shackle your heart, hope has a way of getting in. As the late Leonard Cohen said, the cracks are where the light gets in. And with that light comes hope.

I knew this was coming, I knew it wouldn’t be easy. But I still had hope, foolish hope, that refused to be buried. Hope that Logan and I would be allowed to live out our happily ever after under the sun, stars, and moon.

It’s that persistent sliver of hope that’s killing me right now.

I have to break up with Logan.

I have to return the ring.

I have to leave him.

I know my mother’s threats weren’t made in vain. I know what it’s like to damage her pride and reputation. I know she will fight back with everything she has, and in order to preserve what she is and what she’s fought for, she will take this away from Logan.

I can’t be the cause of that. I can’t. I couldn’t live with myself if Logan ended up stripped of everything he fought so hard to get. As much as I love him, as much as he loves me, I can’t be worth more than this place, and I won’t let myself be.

Logan.

Losing Logan.

The thought makes me double over, my knees hitting the tile floor with a sickly thud. I cry out in pain but it’s not my knees, it’s my heart, seeping open and bleeding. The pain is physical, deep, a fish hook that I can’t reach.

I cry out but there is no sound. My mouth is open, gaping and I can’t scream, I can’t breathe. Low, guttural noises rip through me as my lungs strain and strain.

I can’t make this choice.

I can’t throw all of this away.

I crawl to the couch and pull myself up, fingers digging into the cushions like an injured animal. I can’t imagine life without him, without being here. There has to be another way, there has to be.

Taking in a deep breath, I turn my phone over in my hands.

With what strength I have I call my father’s cell phone.

He answers right away, not even giving me enough time to process what I was going to say, let alone how to figure out how to speak.

“Veronica,” he says, his tone is hushed. I already know that my mother must be somewhere near him and that thought causes a dark, thick rage to boil inside my throat. “Is that you?”

“Daddy,” I say, my voice is so low and broken it doesn’t even sound human. “How could you?”

He sighs unsteadily. “Listen, dear, you know we love you.”

That was always my dad’s thing, to tell me “you know we love you” without having to tell me that they love me. If I knew they loved me, this wouldn’t be happening. I wouldn’t be who I am and I wouldn’t be begging my father.

“I love him,” I whisper.

“Whether you do or you don’t doesn’t have any bearing Veronica, and you know this. Your mother and I…she has a lot to lose. What will it look like to the world to have you marry your dead sister’s widower? It’s beyond reproach and you know it.”

“What will it look like?” I repeat. “You keep saying that, what will it look like, because you’re so fucking scared of what people think and see of you, that you have no regard for your own daughter and her feelings.”

“Oh hush now,” he says, “don’t be absurd. We have total regard for you and your feelings, that’s why we know this won’t work.”

“What?”

“We’re your parents, Veronica. We’ve watched you your whole life, your fascination with Juliet, trying to be like her. It’s normal, completely normal, for the youngest to try and emulate the oldest. But this is going too far. You know, if you reach deep inside yourself, you’ll see that whatever you think you have with Logan, whatever your feelings are for him, they aren’t real. It’s manufactured by your brain to make up for losing Juliet. By keeping Logan, you keep her alive. Maybe it’s the same for him, I don’t know, but either way it isn’t what you think it is.” He sighs. “Your mother and I are trying to prevent you from making a big mistake and costing our reputation. Can’t you think logically for one moment and see that?”

I swallow painfully, shaking my head. My tongue is pressed against the roof of my mouth. No words come out.

“I have to go, your mother is waiting,” he says. “We’re going out for dinner, you know, our usual New Year’s celebration with Aunt June. But listen, we can talk later. We can talk about all of this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I whisper.