Page 63 of Sawyer

“I…Wait. Iforcedyou?”

“You made such a big fucking deal about Mandee, so I gave her up, and I—”

“I made abig, fucking dealabout it?” I cry, righteous anger flaring up within me. “You were dick-deep in her, Clark! It was, in fact, abig fucking deal!”

“You know what I mean,” he says. “It didn’tmeananything. It was just a fling. It shouldn’t have mattered so much.”

“Itdidmatter! I don’t want to be with a guy who cheats on me! I don’t want to marry someone who thinks cheating doesn’t matter.”

“It wasn’t cheating! It didn’t mean anything!”

“Then why did you do it?” I demand.

“I was bored!” he bellows. “You’re…you’re…vanilla. God, you’re so fucking vanilla. You’re a perfect choice for a wife or a—a mother. And your dad’s fucking awesome. But…you’re boring, Ivy. Sorry. You just are.”

Not gonna lie. This hurts. It’s painful feedback. I’ve never thought of myself as “boring.” Quiet, yes. Bookish, sure. But maybe if Clark had shared my interests instead of belittling them and laughing at them, he would’ve found me more interesting. God, we are so miserably mismatched, it’s not even funny.

“Clubbing and drinking and cheating on your girlfriend, and…and…and mooning people from the passenger seat of John’s car doesn’t make you interesting, Clark! It makes you an asshole. It makes you pathetic.”

“I’mpathetic?” he yells. “You’re a poor little rich girl who’s got mommy and daddy issues and a giant STICK UP HER ASS.”

My eyes burn with tears, but I blink them back. I’mnotcrying. Not now. Not because of him. I won’t give him the satisfaction. No way.

Besides, he’s not wrong. Idohave mommy and daddy issues. Of course I do—my shitty childhood ensured that I would. I barely know what a healthy parental relationship feels like, and I’ve really onlyseenone via my aunt and uncle’s example with my cousins. And I mean, I can work on that—on my “mommy and daddy issues”—but it’ll always be a part of who I am, like loving theater and caring about people who are kind to me and reading good books and feeling too much. Andthe sooner I can find someone who values me for who I am and respects my interests, even if he doesn’t share them, the sooner I’ll find myself in a loving, functional relationship.

“I’ll send the ring back certified mail,” I tell him.

“That little piece of shit? It’s worth peanuts. Throw it in the trash for all I care.”

I look at it, sitting by itself on the bedside table. I was sure it was real. Stupid me.

“Fair warning,” I say. “You should find somewhere else to live. My father said he’d throw us out of the apartment if I didn’t come back by January 1.”

“Oh. Great. Awesome. Now I’m homeless. You’resucha fucking bitch.” He pauses. “What am I supposed to do with all of your shit, Ivy?”

I have my favorite things in Skagway with me. My favorite clothes. My favorite books. My laptop and the phone that I now pay for. The only picture I have of myself with both of my parents sits on my bedside table. Anything else can be replaced. I don’t want anything from Juneau.

“Get rid of it,” I say. “Have Goodwill come and take it all.”

“I’m keeping Feisty,” he says, his voice thick with spite. “You can’t have her.”

“That’s only fair,” I say, though it makes me sad to think I’ll never see her again. “I haven’t seen her in months. She’s more yours than mine now.”

“Your dad is going to kill you,” he says, leaning into his meanness. He’s enjoying the thought of my dad and I falling further off the rails. What a sick fuck. “He had big plans for us. Big plans for Caswell Coal. You can bet your ass my dad won’t be helping with that ‘special’ legislation now.”

“What ‘special’ legislation?” I ask.

“Oh, shit! He didn’t tell you?” Clark chortles. “You’re so fucking stupid. Did you think he wanted us to get marriedbecause he thought we’d be happy? He couldn’t give a shit about your happiness, Ivy. He wanted a close, personal contact in the capital. Well, he can say sayonara to that, now. My dad’ll fuck coal legislation every chance he gets from here on out.”

If it was possible toheara heart break, I’d hear mine crack and shatter right now because even though I thought I didn’t care about my father anymore, it turns out I did. And it hurts that he’d use me—that he’d encourage me to enter a shitty marriage—for his own material gains. I shake with fury and sadness.

“I have to go, Clark,” I say. “I’m sorry. Good luck to you.”

“Fuck you, Ivy,” he responds. “Fuck you very, very much. You’re just a—”

I tap the End icon.

The phone falls from my hand.

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