Page 10 of A Brilliant Spring

•••

We arrive at the beach, the same one my father has used for his company celebration for years, and as soon as my feet touch the sand, I kick off my white flip-flops, the ones with tiny yellow sunflowers on the strap. I loop them through my fingers and my hand slips into Lana’s as we walk the beach, looking for my parents. Along the way, I spot Riley and her parents, and I look to Lana, pleading silently if we can go over and say hi. She gives me a curt nod accompanied by a soft smile, and my heart leaps. I run over to where Riley and her parents are. Lana follows us and she chats with Mr. and Mrs. Jaimeson and I hear something about Riley coming with us after the party.

Riley’s hand slips into mine as she pulls me toward the water, her other hand carrying two stacked buckets and some shovels. It’s only been a few days since I’ve seen Riley at school, but it feels like a lifetime. As soon as school was over, my mother and father made me pack my things for another lonely summer in Toronto. We find a place close to the water so that we can haul the water and wet sand back and forth easily. She passes me a shovel and a bucket and I start digging as she takes another bucket and grabs some water.

An hour later, I’m being summoned. I hear a high-pitched voice calling me, the words dripping with elegance and fake parental love. “Elissa, baby. Come here, please.” I see her French-manicured hand wave and some bangles slide down her thin wrist. My father is standing beside her, looking tense and impatient as I take my sweet time getting up out of the sand.

“I’ll be right back, Riles,” I groan. I push myself off the ground and stomp over to where my mother and father are.

“Jesus Christ, Collette. She’s a fucking mess. Her dress is all dirty and she doesn’t even have her sandals on.”

“Calm down,” she says to my father through gritted teeth. She waves her hand impatiently to Lana, who comes jogging over. “Clean this mess up and make her presentable. And where are your shoes, Elissa?” Lana’s hands glide over my dress, swiping away the wrinkles and sand. I shrug my shoulders at my mother while Lana’s hands tighten my ponytail. “Oh, forget it. Let’s just get this over with so I can get a drink,” my mother mumbles. Her hand wraps around my wrist, her nails digging into my skin as she pulls me toward my father and the photographer. She places me in the middle, in front of both of them, their hands weighing down my shoulders.

“Smile!” the photographer shouts, and the camera’s shutter clicks as my mouth presses into a tight smile. My fingers curl into my sundress, making my knuckles white. Some of the other families pass by, murmuring things like “What a beautiful family,” and “Aww, they look so lovely.” My father smiles and waves to his subordinates and offers the photographer up for anyone who wants photos of their family. Ironic, huh? A man who has not one familial bone in his body makes a show of family for his company one day a year. And it’s always mandatory. For his employees, whom he treats like family, and for his family, whom he treats like employees.

I wriggle out of my parents’ grasp. “Are we done yet?” It comes out as more of a whine than I hoped. My father’s warm, sunny face clouds over to a stormy grey, his eyes narrowing.

“We are done when I say we are done, you ungrateful child. Now, come along. We need to do the rounds and check in with everyone, and I need my family there.” I throw a glance over my shoulder and see Riley with a few other employees’ kids, and they’re building a massive sandcastle. My heart sinks and tears well in my eyes when a warm hand is placed on my back and rubs in small circles. I look up and there’s Mom. The only person I truly need. Lana’s face stretches into a warm smile and she whispers, low enough so only I can hear.

“One hour, baby. Then we can go.”

•••

My fingers curl around the golden picture frame and I lift it off the shelf. My knuckles glow white as I grip the picture and the memories it represents. I crank my arm back and hurl the frame across the room, where it shatters against the wall, falling to the ground in glass shards and broken metal. My eyes roll shut. Damn, that felt good. I pick another item up off the shelf. It’s a diamond-shaped glass trophy for “Best Media Outlet, 2000.” I turn around and hurl it, hard. It flies across the room and smashes to the ground near his office door. Another swell of good rises in me. My hands wipe across my father’s desk, causing his computer screen, keyboard, mouse, pens — everything on the surface — to scatter, crash, and tumble to the ground. I get a tingle in my body, feeling the adrenaline pumping.

I turn back to the bookshelf and start ripping things off. Binders, books, other knick knacks, and random trinkets. Everything goes soaring around the room, clashing and crashing. It’s cathartic, euphoric, freeing. When I whip the last thing off the shelf, my chest is heaving. The blood in my veins is pumping, and I feel alive like never before. Until the guilt and something else settles in. Squeezing around me like a boa constrictor, snaking itself around my body. My throat feels like it’s closing as I stumble around his desk, grabbing the edge for support. My legs give out under me and I fall to the ground. Little shards of glass cut into my knees as I settle to the floor, but I don’t feel the sting.

My sinuses burn as I fight back the tears threatening to burst through. I’m heaving again, but this time panic is rising up in me. What is wrong with me? A tear breaks free from the dam and I’m undone. Sobbing for a father who was never there, sobbing for a life I never had, sobbing for the emptiness I feel inside. I sniffle, rubbing my tears away with the back of my hand before I take a deep breath and hold it, calming myself down. I jiggle the dainty Rolex on my wrist and check the time. It’s been an hour. I stand up on unsteady legs and hobble over to find my clutch. I pull out my phone and there’s a message from Riley.

Riley: We took a cab back to the apartment. See you there when you’re ready.

God, I love her. I snort back some more tears and snot and brush myself off, picking the glass out of my kneecaps. Tossing my hair behind my back, I roll my shoulders and head toward the elevator and back to the car so Arthur can drive me home.

Chapter

Ten

Brandt

It’s been a few weeks since Harold’s funeral, and I think Elissa has been holding up pretty well. I haven’t seen her cry, and, other than the weird funeral eulogy, that’s the only out-of-character thing she’s done. She hasn’t set foot on the twenty-second floor, where her father’s office is, since the funeral, when she destroyed everything. That day is still so fresh in my mind.

Riley and I are waiting anxiously for Elissa to return when she walks in. Her shoes are in her hands and her knees are scraped, with a trickle of dried blood running down her leg. Riley rushes toward her, face white as a ghost, and her hands wrap around Elissa’s wrists, dragging her to sit at the kitchen island.

Elissa slides onto the leather seat, her black polished toes wriggling as her feet dangle. Her shoes clatter to the ground where she drops them. She places her clutch on the counter beside her. Riley sprints back into the kitchen with a first-aid kit from the washroom. She places the white box on the counter and rummages through it, pulling out rubbing alcohol, some cotton balls, and bandages.

My hand finds Elissa’s and I slide her cold hand into my warm one, giving it a squeeze. Elissa winces as Riley dabs the cotton ball soaked with alcohol on her cuts, cleaning them carefully before placing bandages on them.

“How did you do this?” Riley asks with concern. Elissa winces again as she answers.

“I went to my father’s office on the way home, and I kind of lost it. I was throwing stuff around, broke some glass and accidentally fell and cut myself on the glass shards. I’m fine though,” she says, wincing again. “Oooh.”

Riley rolls her eyes at Elissa and mumbles something under her breath that’s hard to catch. I study Elissa to make sure she’s okay. Her eyes squeeze shut and her nose wrinkles as Riley pats the edge of the bandage on her knee.

“All done,” Riley mumbles, standing and collecting the wrappers and cotton balls and tossing them into the garbage. Elissa relaxes into the chair as she sighs, her grip loosening on my hand. “So, want to tell me why you destroyed your father’s office?” Riley’s voice is stern and wary. Elissa looks away, her gaze lingering on somewhere in the living room. She shrugs absently and shakes her head.

“I don’t know. Arthur drove me to the Black & Wells tower and my subconscious took me straight to his office. I was looking around, trying to feel something. And something inside me broke and then I started breaking stuff.” Riley’s face twitches with concern. “But seriously, I’m fine.” Riley’s body slumps in relief, but her eyes are still vigilant, like she doesn’t quite believe what she’s hearing.

“Collette and the publicist were telling everyone that you were just distraught that your father is gone,” Riley says. Elissa bursts out laughing, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

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