Page 23 of Edge of Unbroken

“Hi buddy. God, it’s so good to hear your voice!” He sighs heavily. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good today,” I answer truthfully. “Physically I feel about eighty percent. It’s mostly my knee that acts up, but I’m getting there.”

“I can’t even begin to tell you how happy that makes me, bud.” He sounds relieved, his voice light. I wonder what he was expecting to hear after not having talked to me since he dropped me off at the airport in October.

“And how are you doing otherwise?” I know he’s asking about my mental state, which is a whole can of worms I’m not eager to open right now.

“Fine.” It’s the standard answer. He’s silent, clearly not believing me. “But hey, how come I’m allowed to talk to you?” I ask, desperate for a subject change. I know my therapist wouldn’t be happy with my unwillingness to open up, but I push her out of mind.

“Well, I talked to Doctor Seivert on Friday and she said you did really well during your session on Thursday. She thinks you’re progressing in the right direction, so she felt it would be okay for me to give you a call. I actually have something to tell you,” he says ominously.

My shoulders tense. My body is still so used to going straight into fight-or-flight mode, despite the months of therapy. I fully expect him to bring up my mother, the trial, or something equally unpleasant. “What is it?”

“You got a letter.”

“From?” I draw out the word, raising my eyebrows.

“Columbia University.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

Oh, shit. “Okay?” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Want me to open it?”

“Sure, I guess.” I close my eyes, listening to paper ripping. My dad stays silent for a few seconds. “Dad?” I ask when he still doesn’t say anything.

“Would you like me to tell you what it says?”

Fuck, he’s killing me. “That would be exceptional,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

He chuckles. “I didn’t know you had applied to Columbia.”

I groan. “Dad! Please, just tell me what it says,” I beg, making him laugh.

“You got in. You got into Columbia,” he says. “God, Ran, I’m so proud of you.”

“Are you serious?” I had fully expected a rejection. Shit, between the arrival of Cat’s letter yesterday and my acceptance into Columbia today, this is the happiest I’ve felt in months.

“I’m serious, bud. It says they’re happy to extend you an offer of early admission. It also says that you’re expected to withdraw any applications you’ve submitted to other colleges, and that early admission is pending your continued stellar performance during your senior year. And, damn, Ran,” he continues, his voice up an octave, “they’re giving you a scholarship covering your tuition! Son, I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am of you.” He chokes up a little bit.

“Thanks, Dad,” I say, uncomfortable with his heartfelt tone. It’s not something I’m used to.

“Oh, and they want to check your grades to ensure your performance doesn’t drop off. That reminds me,” he says. “I had a meeting with your principal and school counselor just before winter break.”

“Why?”

“To talk about next semester, what will happen when you come back and things like that. Well, it turns out you’re all done.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have enough credits to close out your senior year now. All your stuff is in and graded, and, Ran, seriously, I’m in awe of you.” His voice cracks again. “Despite everything,everything, you finished strong and are even done early. Admin said you don’t need to take any more classes; you can just sit out this semester and then walk with your class at graduation. The only bad news is that because you missed that first month and a half last semester, it looks like you got bumped from your claim to valedictorian,” he adds with empathy.

I know he probably thinks I’ll be disappointed, but this news makes me laugh. “Oh shit, Vada did it, huh?”

“Yeah. How do you know?”

“She’s been the ultimate competition. Honestly, Dad, I don’t care. Vada deserves it. She works really hard.”

“So do you, obviously,” he says, some guilt in his voice. He’s never actually seen me study, has never really checked in on my progress at school. What he doesn’t know is that I never really did it out of ambition, but to keep the peace at home. I always thought if I worked harder, if I did better, my mom would ease up on me. She never did, and in the end I just got good at being good, and it kept me distracted.

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