Page 93 of Severance

“You don’t have to go with me.”

“I’m not letting you go alone,” he insists, fishing his phone from the pocket of his coat.

On the way to my house, we sit in the back of the car, holding hands and staring at each other. There are no words. They don’t seem necessary. It’s so peaceful with him that I don’t think he’s real. I think I’m dreaming and one day, I’m going to wake up and he’ll be gone. And I’m dreading that moment like I’m dreading the end of the world.

* * *

The smell of coffee and cinnamon wakes me up at around ten, but the fear of my parents’ wrath keeps me in bed for another hour. When I got home early this morning, my mother was on the couch asleep. She must have waited up for me all night.

It’s almost eleven when I finally show up in the kitchen in my pajamas. My mother’s unloading the dishwasher and my father’s finishing up a late breakfast. There’s a blanket of snow draping everything in the yard.

I drag my feet straight to the coffee maker. My head’s still throbbing from everything that happened last night at the party and later at Dakota’s place. Half of me is ecstatic, but the other half is in shock.

My father breaks the silence, clearing his throat and pushing his plate aside. “I believe we need to talk about this young man you’ve been seeing, Alana.”

I grab an empty cup from the cupboard and dump some sugar in it.

“Sweetheart,” my mother chimes in, “Your father’s right. I think we should discuss this.”

My heart begins to race. I clench my jaw and pour the last of the coffee into my cup.

“Alana?” she calls my name again.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I pinch the bridge of my nose and block out the outside world as I spend a few seconds attempting to streamline my incoherent thoughts.

“You came home last night at two in the morning, smelling like marijuana.” My mother sighs.

“People at the party smoked it.” I grab my cup, go to the table, and take a seat across from my father.”

He looks at me as if he’s deciding what would be a better punishment—setting me on fire or kicking me out. “I don’t like that you’re always out late with him.”

The smell of coffee creeps up my nostrils as I bring the cup to my mouth and take a small sip to get my brain going. The effect is almost instantaneous.

“Are you and Jess trying to move in together so that you can invite guys over?” my mother questions me.

“No, Mom!” I toss my head back and cover my face with my palms. Thick as mud heaviness pushes against my chest. Yes, I plan on having Dakota over when I move out. No, I don’t plan on turning my new apartment into a brothel, but for some reason, my parents can’t understand that. In their minds, the world is black and white, and I’m not sure how to make them understand that that’s not exactly correct.

“Are you two having sex?” My father cuts right to the chase.

I draw my hands away from my face and take another sip of my coffee before going back to the conversation.

“I don’t want you shacking up God knows where with some guy who’s going to leave you three weeks later. That’s not the way I raised you.” His face reddens, his eyes burning with suspicion.

“Can I talk now?” I ask, doing my best to sound calm. My heart’s still racing in fear and I begin to sweat.

My father takes a deep breath and nods curtly.

“His name is Dakota Bennett,” I say, grasping my coffee cup. “He’s in a band and you need to accept that fact, Dad. I already know what you’re going to say, but before you share your opinion with me, maybe it’s best you meet him.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Does he smoke or drink?” My mother starts shooting off questions from her appropriate-boyfriend-for-Alana list.

“Does he go to church?” My father asks next.

“No… I don’t know.” I’m confused about who to answer first. They’re like a bad cop and good cop combination, only both are bad in my case.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” My father huffs, his suspicion growing.

---