Broken and Screwed 2

Sincerely, your father

P.S. We will be visiting Jesse Hunt this weekend. Your mother wished to attend one of his basketball games. We both miss Jesse so much. He was like a son to us. I would be appreciative if you do not create a scene, if we were to run across paths.

I sat there as a familiar numb sensation spread throughout me.

My mother talked of me often.

Her life coaches wanted reconciliation.

My father was uncertain.

Lawyers.

Ethan’s will.

Documentation.

Questions. Concerns. Thoughts. Prayers.

The numb feeling began to give away. Rage was filling in. As I sat there, my jaw clenched together, my teeth ground against each other, and I reached forward. Grasping the computer with both hands, I lifted the screen from the table and threw it against the farthest wall.

There were gasps, a few screams, but most of them were quiet.

Jerking down, I picked up my bag and left, but I knew the whispers had started. It’d be shared around school that Jesse Hunt’s girlfriend was a nutcase. My name would take on a different undertone. Alex, Alex who, they would ask. Others would tell them my full name. Alexandra Claire Connors would be known as a violent freak within an hour.

As I stalked out, I didn’t care.

I didn’t care about a goddamn thing.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I went home. The driveway was filled with cars, but one stopped me in my tracks. Their car was in the parking lot. A fleeting question flashed in my head. When had they sent that email? But it didn’t matter. They were here.

They were in Jesse’s house.

My house.

And I wasn’t supposed to create a scene. As I remembered that part of the email, my eyes narrowed to slits and my jaw firmed. I got out of the car and slammed the door shut. As I walked into Jesse’s house, I didn’t expect a crowd around them. Tiffany. Cord. Some girl whose hand he was holding. Derek and Kara. And at the same table, across from my parents was Jesse. His grin couldn’t stretch wider.

He loved them. They were his idealized image of what parents should be, but they weren’t real. Ideal. That’s all they were.

I lost what every teenager should have. Parents.

There were no words to describe the burn inside of me.

My breath rattled. My heart went nuts, but I couldn’t feel it. Everything dimmed for me.

My parents were here, in Jesse’s house. They visited him while they emailed me. They missed him, but I was a concern?

Jesse noticed me first. He waved me over. “Come here. You didn’t tell me they were coming.”

Even Tiffany was grinning. I didn’t know she could. And then I looked at them. Both my parents lost their expressions of happiness. That’s all it was, because they weren’t happy. They weren’t joyous. They weren’t real. They were fake. What people saw is all they saw. That was all there was. There was nothing more in them, certainly not love.

“Alexandra.” My father started to rise.

“Don’t.”

My mother sucked in her breath, “Alex…”

I shook my head. They had gone wrong, so far wrong and they knew it. Guilt flared in both of them before they remembered their best course of action. Denial.

Pathetic.

I now looked at my parents as pathetic. I said as much, “You act like you love him.”

Jesse frowned.

My parents shared a look and I stepped forward. My hands gripped a chair in front of me. I held on so hard, for dear life, and I didn’t care if I broke the chair in two. “You don’t love him. You want to use him. You want to replace Ethan with him.”

“Alex,” Jesse murmured.

I laughed, bitterly and loudly. The louder, the better. It boiled out of me, but I held on to that chair. I couldn’t move from it. It was my anchor. “I wasn’t supposed to make a scene, right? If I ‘crossed paths’ with you, I wasn’t supposed to make a big deal out of it. This is my home, Dad.”

He paled.

I grinned. “Mom thinks of me often. Are you kidding me?” I pinned her down with my gaze. To her credit, she didn’t squirm. She raised her chin and her shoulders lifted as she took one small breath. Oh yes. She was getting ready for me. I started, “We’re supposed to reconcile? Is that what your life coaches want to happen? Did I do you wrong, Mother, at some time in my life?”

My father pounded his fist on the table. “Alexandra, you will not speak to her like that. Your mother is fragile.”

“My mother is a fraud!” My head swung back over.

She sucked her breath in again. It was loud and dramatic. Just the way she wanted, I was sure of it. My father gripped the table, mirroring my stance with the chair. He held on to keep from doing…what, I wasn’t sure? Hitting me? I frowned to myself. Would my father harm me for speaking the truth? Was it that essential for him to protect their lies? But it was. I knew it was as I saw him fighting for control.

“Alex,” Jesse murmured again. He had circled the table and stood beside me. His hand touched the back of mine.

I shrugged it off. I didn’t need support, not then, maybe not ever again. I needed restraint because I was losing mine fast.

“The nurses didn’t think you really tried to kill yourself.”

Her eyes threatened to pop out while I heard someone gasp behind me. My father shoved against the table, the same rage in him that I felt. Welcome to the club. He spat out, “You will not speak any longer. You shut up. You will do more harm than ever before.”