Page 83 of Severance

“There are also a couple of shifts I want to pick up during the week. They’re early mornings and they work well with my class schedule…” My voice starts failing me.

“I believe three days a week is more than enough, Alana.”

My heartbeat pounds in my ears like a hammer and my breath hitches, so I just come out with it because my anxiety level is off the charts. “Jess found an apartment not far from campus and she asked me to move in with her.”

“The answer is no,” my father says unblinkingly, his face twisting with discontent.

“I’m not twelve.” My hands on my lap are clutched together in a tight ball, and my fingers are going numb from the lack of circulation. “I’m an adult. I can take care of myself. I’m not moving out to have a place to do drugs or drink if that’s what you were thinking.”

He ignores me and changes the subject. “I’d like to meet this young man who’s been picking you up all week.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. My plan was to ease my father into the fact that I’m seeing someone. I’ve purposely had Dakota pick me up and drop me off at the appropriate times, but the truth is, we’ve barely gotten to spend any time together since our trip to the waterfall. He worked at the resort all weekend, including New Year’s night, and then went out of town with Mikah for two days to see family up north.

“What does he do?” my father’s voice booms through the room.

“He works.”

“What kind of work?”

“He’s an event coordinator at the resort in Cascade Locks.”

“How old is he?” My father frowns.

“Twenty-three.”

There’s a long, excruciating pause.

“You need to get your priorities straight, Alana. You’re a freshman. Your college costs me a fortune. I don’t want you to have any distractions while you’re working on your diploma.”

His words cut through me like a knife. “Dad!” I jump to my feet, my body shaking. “Listen to yourself! I’m not one of your charity cases or your master plans. I’m your daughter. I’m a human being with my own needs and feelings. Don’t you understand?”

My voice is loud and doesn’t sound like my own. Anger and frustration have taken control over my brain and there’s no stopping me now.

My father rises to his feet and his expression changes from blank to authoritative. “You need to calm down.”

“I don’t want to calm down. I want you to understand that you can’t plan my life for me. I can see whomever I want and live wherever I want.”

“I’m trying to give you a future.”

“You’re suffocating me! That’s what you’re doing.” I want to throw some more of my opinions into the mix, but my mother joins the conversation.

“Sweetheart, I believe you’re overreacting.” She stands in the doorway, her eyes darting between me and my father, and I feel the air literally leaving my lungs.

“Fine.” I grit my teeth, emotions jamming my throat. “I’m going to move out anyway. You don’t have to pay my tuition if you don’t want to.”

The silence that fills the room is heavy and asphyxiating. Parts of me are still reeling and still want to do battle, but the lack of understanding from my parents is disheartening. It’s like talking to a wall.

I leave the study without saying a word, my parents’ hushed tones following me upstairs until the slam of the door cuts them off. My room suddenly seems too small, the things that are in it foreign. They belong to a person my parents wish me to be, not the person I truly am.

After a few minutes of pointless pacing, I lock myself in the bathroom and call Dakota.

His voice on the line is like a breath of fresh air. “Hey. How’d it go?”

“It went really bad,” I confess, not hiding my irritation. “They said no.”

I hear a sigh, and then comesthequestion. “Are you at least going to tell him you’re seeing me?”

My response is a frustrated stutter. “Y-yes… I was trying to have a conversation with him, but he kept asking all these stupid questions, like where you work and how old you are.”

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