Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
She takes the box from me. “Should I open it now?”
I nod and watch as she unties the white ribbon. She lifts the lid and removes the silver frame. It’s a triptych: three small frames hinged together that open out into a series of three pictures.
“These are my pictures,” she half-whispers.
“I know they’re on your Instagram, so you can look at them on your phone, but I thought you might like to put this on your nightstand in the hotel. That way you can take another little bit of Crompton with you while you travel. As well as your oversized key chain.”
She smiles and reaches for my face. “That’s…‘thoughtful’ doesn’t seem to be a big enough word. It’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.”
Warmth burrows into my stomach and I press a kiss to her temple. “I want you to enjoy this weekend. But if you don’t, I need you to promise me, you’ll tell me. We can leave at any time. You’re not going to offend anyone. These people are family.”
She leans over and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Tell me about them. You must love them very much if you wanted to come to the UK to study and…buy a stately home to be closer to them.”
“I do,” I say. “They’re more of a family to me than my own parents in many ways.” I don’t admit that—even to myself—very often.
“Tell me how?” she asks.
“My father was a gambler. I don’t remember it being a problem before I turned eight. He always took me to soccer practice on a Saturday and we’d have family movie nights on a Friday night—he’d make popcorn and the three of us would sit under a blanket on the couch watching Disney movies. Both my parents worked, but both of them were around a lot.” My most vivid memories of my dad were in my backyard. The sprinkler being on, chasing me around the yard with a water pistol, playing soccer and frisbee. He’d seemed so happy. My mom too.
“Sounds nice,” she whispers, bringing me back to the moment.
“It was. And then on my eighth birthday, my mom answered a knock on the door and life was never the same again. I still remember the feeling of panic I had back then when I heard her arguing with the guy at the door. We were up early and she was cooking me pancakes, and because it was my birthday, they were going to be chocolate chip. She’d left them in the pan while she answered the door and…I can’t remember what the man said, or I guess I didn’t understand it. But my mother never yelled and she was half-shouting, half-sobbing. I’d never seen her like that. I went into the kitchen and turned off the stove and my dad came barreling down the stairs, yelling at the guy at the door. Then Mom started beating her fists on Dad’s chest.”
My throat tightens and I take a breath. It’s been a very long time since I’ve thought about that day. Kate releases the armrest and sweeps her hand over my chest. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I’ve come to terms with what had happened that day. And all’s well that ends well, right? I have a great life and it’s probably as good as it is because of that day. “I’m not upset. I want to tell you.” I don’t know what it is about Kate, but I want to share this with her. I want to share everything with her.
“My dad had gambled the house away,” I say.
Kate presses her mouth to my shoulder and it gives me comfort in a way I didn’t realize I needed.
“We left that day. I stayed at a neighbor’s house that night. They had kids my age. My mom didn’t stay. I don’t know where she went.” I rub my brow with my thumb and forefinger. “We went back the next day and he was gone. Then we packed up and moved. I never saw my dad again.”
“Oh, Vincent,” Kate says. “I’m so, so sorry. I can’t imagine what that must have felt like. Your entire life changed in an instant.”
“I think you can imagine, actually. You must have felt the same way when your mom died?”
I wonder if that’s why I gravitated to Kate. We both had our worlds rocked at about the same age.
“I’ve never said this to anyone, but I didn’t feel the grief that most people would expect a kid to feel when their mum dies. I feel terrible for saying this and even worse for feeling it, but it was more relief I felt than anything else. I got to live with my granny and grandpa at Crompton. I knew exactly how my day was going to go. I knew I was going to have Weetabix for breakfast, get taken to school on time, get picked up at exactly three-thirty. I knew I was going to have my dinner at five sharp. It was the same every day, and I loved it. Life got better for me after she died.”