Scarlet

 

After my conversation with Lucien, everything changed. All the fight left my body, and I was ready to obey my mother’s orders. I walked back to my grandmother’s house in a fog, hearing Lucien’s voice echoing painfully in my ears. Every time I remembered the dismissive tone in his voice, I winced and shook my head.

The pain I felt was a deep, physical pain that affected everything from my head to my organs. I could feel my heart breaking inside my chest. In that moment, I would have done anything to stop the pain.

When I made it back home, I let myself inside and went straight to my room. I could hear Grandmother moving around in the kitchen, so I knew she was still awake, but I couldn’t face her. I was worried that she, like my mother, was disappointed with my choices.

Ever since I moved to New York, I hadn’t been myself. I was more free and light-hearted. I made decisions based on emotions, not logic. For a long time, I thought the change was a good one, but now, I was no longer sure of anything.

I believed Lucien cared for me. We weren’t in love, not yet, but it felt like we were heading in that direction. Even though we never had “the talk,” our relationship felt real. Committed. I wasn’t seeing anyone else, and I didn’t believe he was either. But I was wrong.

What I thought was a sweet, caring guy was just another manipulative frat boy who would do anything for sex. I laid down on my bed and tried not to think about him. I had an important decision to make, and I needed to put Lucien out of my mind.

A few minutes later, I knew it was impossible. Lucien was tied to so much of my life in New York that I couldn’t just take him out of the equation. If I stayed, it would feel like I was staying for him. If I left, it would feel like I was running away from his rejection. Neither decision felt right.

In just one day, my entire life had flipped on its head. My confusion had hit an all-time high, and I didn’t want to move for fear of making yet another wrong decision. I felt frozen in place and in time, unable to lift so much as a single finger.

When I finally got up the nerve to move, I knew what to do. I didn’t want to succumb to my mother’s demands, but I no longer saw any other option. Hours before, I was ready to fight for my life in New York with every ounce of strength I possessed. I was so certain my life here meant something. That it was real. But I was wrong about Lucien. I was wrong about everything between us, and now, I didn’t know what was real anymore. If I could be so easily manipulated, maybe my mother was right. Maybe I wasn’t ready to be on my own.

The thought made me want to cry all over again, but I’d run out of tears. I’d spend the better part of the evening crying. I was done. There was no longer any time to be emotional. It was time to be rational, just like my mother taught me. Despite my anger toward her, I trusted her. She was right about Lucien, so she must be right about everything else. If she wanted me home, I would go.

I picked up my phone and slowly dialed my mother’s number. With the first ring, I felt my stomach tighten painfully. I didn’t know if she would answer. She was so angry with me before that she hung up without a goodbye. It wouldn’t have surprised me at all if she ignored my phone calls for a few days. Still, I hoped she wouldn’t.

After my time in the park, I needed the comfort of my mother’s voice. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but she was still my mom, and my heart was breaking. I just wanted her to promise everything would be okay.

“Scarlet,” she said when she answered.

“Hi, Mom,” I said softly, my voice weak and defeated. “I’m ready to come home.”

***

Two days later, I was standing in my bedroom at Grandmother’s house, just staring around the room. It was time to pack my things, but I couldn’t bring myself to start. The second I packed, my decision would be final. In so many ways, it was already final, but this was the last step before it was over. My time in New York was about to end, and I didn’t know if I was ready.

As I moved around the room, my eyes fell on my copy of Flames of Sorrow. I walked over to it and ran my fingers over the cover, feeling the rise and fall of the letters. This book had been my comfort, my inspiration, and my best friend for years. When I had no one, I had the characters within these pages. I believed everything they told me about love and friendship. I put my faith in a fictional world, and it betrayed me. It was wrong about everything. Love wasn’t eternal. Men didn’t wait forever for their soulmates. Men lied and manipulated to get what they wanted.

Angrily, I picked up the book and threw it in the trash can. I stared at it sitting there, growing angrier by the second. I quickly covered it up with spare scraps of paper so I wouldn’t have to look at it any longer. Just the sight of it made me sick to my stomach. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have let myself get led on that way? I lost my virginity to a guy who didn’t even care about me. In the blink of an eye, I became the cliché college girl, and I hated myself for it.

Finally, I began to pack. I folded my clothes neatly and laid them in my suitcase, making sure everything fit perfectly. When everything felt out of control, I took pleasure in organization. It felt like I was once again returning to my previous self, the shy girl from Paris, France who was home schooled and sheltered, the girl who wanted adventure but was happy to listen to her mother without argument. With every item I packed, a piece of my old self fell firmly back in place. In a way, it was painful and sad, but also comforting.

When Grandmother came to join me, she didn’t say a word. She sat on the edge of the bed and watched me closely. Her eyes were kind and understanding, but there was something else mixed into her expression.

Part of me wondered if she was disappointed with my decision to leave, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask her. I didn’t think I could take yet another person being upset with me. After fighting with my mom and being rejected by Lucien, I’d hit my emotional breaking point.

“What made you change your mind, Scarlet?” Grandmother finally asked.

I looked at her, my standard answer poised on my lips. When my mother asked me this same question two days ago, I lied. I told her I realized she was right, that my life in New York wasn’t a healthy one. It wasn’t true, but it pleased her.

With my grandmother, I knew she wouldn’t believe me. No matter how much bullshit I spouted at her, she would see right through me. Lucien was the last thing I wanted to talk about, but I didn’t have a choice. Grandmother was the one person I couldn’t lie to.

“I talked to Lucien,” I said. “And he said I should go.”

“So, you’re leaving because of a boy?” Grandmother asked.

“No,” I said, shaking my head firmly. “I’m leaving because I was wrong about everything, Grandmother. I thought I was ready to really be an adult and be on my own. I was making my own choices, and they felt like good ones. Then, I realized they weren’t. I wasn’t being smart. I was being naïve and immature. Everything that felt right, was wrong.”

“Like what?” Grandmother asked.

“Like Lucien,” I said. “My mom was right. Men aren’t worth it. They just lie and hurt you. They say whatever they can to get you into bed and once they do, they’re just done with you.”

“Is that what Lucien did?” Grandmother asked.

“It was my fault,” I said. “I was too stupid to realize the truth. That’s why I’m leaving, Grandmother. Mom was right. I’m not ready for this. For any of it. If I can’t even see when a guy is using me, then how I can I trust any of my decisions?”

Grandmother smiled kindly and moved closer to me on the bed. She placed her hand gently on my leg and looked in my eyes. The amount of understanding in her expression was enough to make my eyes well with tears. No one had ever looked at me with so much sympathy and love before. It was overwhelming.

“You aren’t stupid,” she said softly. “You did the same thing every woman has done before you. You let your heart lead you, and that is never the wrong choice.”

“But, it was,” I argued. “He didn’t care about me.”

“Maybe not,” Grandmother said. “But you cared about him, right?”

“Yes,” I said. “Of course, I did.”

“Then, what was wrong about it?” Grandmother asked. “Tell me, where was the mistake?”

“He hurt me,” I said simply.

“And that makes it a mistake?” she asked.

“Doesn’t it?” I asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “It hurts, and it will probably hurt for a long time, but that just means it was real. It doesn’t make it wrong or a mistake. It doesn’t make you stupid or untrustworthy. I’ve watched you closely since you’ve been here, Scarlet. From what I’ve seen, you haven’t made a single bad decision. You’ve just made decisions. You’ve experienced life in ways you never would have back home. Once you get over this pain, you’ll realize just how much you learned from your time here. You’ll realize it was worth it.”

Grandmother’s words warmed my heart. For the first time in days, I didn’t feel like a failure. I wasn’t sure I believed her, but it felt nice to hear.

“You don’t think I should leave, do you?” I asked, suddenly coming to that realization.

“I think,” she began. “That going home could be a really good thing. You’ve lived here, you’ve learned, and now you’re leaving. That’s a natural progression. But I also think staying could be a good choice, too. That’s the thing, Scarlet. Sometimes there isn’t a right or a wrong choice. You just have to do what you feel is right.”

“What if I can’t trust myself?” I asked.

“You can,” she smiled softly. “You just have to remember that you can.”

I nodded and looked away. It was all too much for me to take in. I was already leaving. There was no way around that fact. The second I gave in to my mom’s wish, I lost my ability to fight. The decision was made, and that was it.

Still, I let my grandmother’s words comfort me in my decision. She was right about one thing, decisions were complicated. Sometimes, they aren’t wrong or right. Sometimes, they just are. I didn’t know if my choice to leave would be for the best or the worst, but I was making it. That was one thing I learned during my time in New York, how to choose. Before, I let other people decide my life for me. Now, I was the one in control. If that was the only thing I took away from New York, then I would be okay. At least I’d learned something.