Page 96 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part One

A kitchen cabinet slams, and Mama and Daddy’s voices filter in from outside my bedroom. The apartment is large, but not so large that I can’t hear conversations on the other end of the space, especially with my door open as it is now.

“I just don’t want Shae to get distracted, is all. She’s such a good girl, and she’s so close to finishing. But she still hasn’t heard back from any of the places she applied to, and let’s not mention she flunked the tests?—”

“Shae didnotflunk the GMAT,” Mama butts in, and I feel my shoulders go up to my ears.

There it goes. Disappointing them feels awful. I sit up, prepared to hear the rest of his speech.

Daddy sighs, and it goes on for five solid seconds.

“If Shae wants to go to an Ivy League?—”

“Why does Shae need to go to an Ivy League, Reggie?”

“Because youknowhow hard it’s going to be for her. She needs every tool in her arsenal to shut down anyone who thinks she’s not qualified.”

“Her work will speak for itself,” Mama throws back.

“As if that’s ever been enough in America, Opal. Listen, that Sandoval boy is bad news. I prayed on it and God has clearly spoken to me?—”

“Oh, so you’re like Jesus on Mt. Gilead now?”

“Opal.” Daddy’s tone is serious—so serious—and tears burn in my nose. I want to make him proud. I don’t want him to worry about me. I don’t want to disappoint him, and I know my decisions lately have been just that.

A disappointment.

You know what you need to do.

There isn’t a place in my world for Storm Sandoval, especially not with the messiness and complexities of our lives.

But if I keep letting him inch closer, if I keep letting myself imagine anusthat doesn’t exist, I’m going to lose more than just my focus. I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for.

Grad school, my career, Daddy’s faith in me—all of it depends on my focus. And Storm…Storm Sandoval is nothing if not a distraction.

A knock sounds on the door, and I shift to face Mama and Daddy. I smile, trying to access the happiness I know I should feel.

I fail.

“Okay, baby girl, we’re heading out,” Mama says, shoving past Daddy with an annoyed look before smoothing her face and wrapping me in a hug.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call us. We’ll be here in a heartbeat,” she says.

“I know, Mama,” I reply. She gives me a kiss on the cheek.

When she pulls away, she gives Daddy and me a strange look. Sighing, she says, “I’m going down to get the car from the stand.”

And with that, she leaves my room and the apartment.

Silence falls between me and my father, and it’s obvious he has more to say to me.

I won’t let you down, Daddy.

I can practically see the thoughts spinning in his brain; I watch him organize them into words he thinks I’ll receive.

“You’re a grown woman,” he begins, and ironically, the statement makes me feel like a little kid. “And you’re allowed to do grown women things. I don’t get to have a say.”

The “but” that’s coming is so loud, it might as well be a freight train cutting through the space between us.

“But you being grown won’t stop me from caring about you and your future.”

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