Page 4 of Don't Make Me Beg
What does it say about me that my parents have lived here for three years, and it took my being expelled from school to finally come back here to visit them?
I don’t have the energy or the time to psychoanalyze my avoidance of my hometown right now… There are too many reasons to count, but the most obvious one comes to mind straight away.
I push his name to the back of my mind like an overstuffed linen closet and quickly close the door, knowing it’s only a matter of time before all the clutter bursts through.
As I approach the guard, I attempt to get myself together, smoothing my tear-soaked hair from my forehead and wiping the bleeding mascara from underneath my swollen eyes.
“Good evening. I’ll just need to see some identification…” His eyes widen ever so slightly as he takes in my disheveled appearance, but he clears his throat and quickly recovers. “Who are you here to see?”
I give him the most confident, artificial smile I can muster as I pass him my ID. “Oh… um…well, I’ll be staying with the Sinclairs. I’m their daughter.”
He doesn’t look up as he types something into his computer, then he passes back my ID. “Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair live just over there, at the end of the cul-de-sac.”
“Oh…uh, great. Thank you for your help. Have a great day.” I can’t get away fast enough as I pull through the large iron gates and make my way to the end of the street.
Rows of stark white, modern houses line the streets, void of any character or unique charm. The newly constructed homes, with their harsh edges and cookie-cutter design, scream sterile and rigid—it’s nothing like the house I grew up in.
I feel my chest begin to constrict as I desperately look around for something that feels like home. My mother’s signature pearl white Lexus sparkles in the sunlight, and I let out a tiny sigh of relief. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do.
My stomach feels like it’s full of rocks, and sweat makes my palms slide on the steering wheel as I make the turn. I’ve never been so nervous in my whole life…well, maybe just once… Why is my brain so determined to torture me today? This is exactly the reason why I don’t break rules. My guilty conscience can’t take it. I mentally press my shoulder into the closet door, holding off the demons inside for a little while longer. I need to deal with the situation at hand,thenI promise I’ll sort through the closet of doom…eventually.
I can do this. I just need to talk to them. I’m their only daughter, they love me. It’s all a big misunderstanding. Once I explain, we can start working on a plan to fix this. Everything is going to be okay.
Straightening my shoulders to look more confident than I feel, I climb out of my car and march up the freshly paved walkway, my fist hovering in front of the matte black door, but before I can knock, the door swings open.
And there stands my mother, her sandy, shoulder-length blonde hair is styled to perfection, as if she’s just come from a blowout. She’s dressed to the nines in a pastel pink pant suit with modest nude pumps. She’s the picture-perfect image of put together…apart from the twin streams of mascara running down her face.
“Hey, mama, I know you probably already heard, but I can expla?—”
My words splinter as the sharp sting of her palm cracks across my cheek.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?!” she hisses under her breath, always careful not to make a scene before pulling me inside and slamming the door behind me.
I flinch at the sound of the door slamming, rubbing a hand over my throbbing cheek. I can practically feel the disdain dripping off her as she glares at me with her arms folded across her chest. I figured they’d be upset, but I was hoping the anger they felt would be directed more toward Jimmy, considering this is all his fault.
“Mama, I didn’t do it. You have to believe me. This was all Jimmy?—"
“That’s enough!” I hear my father’s booming voice before I see him. When he turns the corner and comes into view, the look on his face tells me he doesn’t care what really happened, only the mess he’s left to clean up.
“Daddy, you know I’d never do something like this?—"
He points a finger in my direction. “You are going to fix this.”
I shake my head. “What are you talking about? Daddy, I didn’t do anything wrong?—”
“Unbelievable. Not only did you get yourself kicked out of school, at the end of your final semester…but you had to go and make a scene on top of it.” He shakes his head. “Was it not good enough for you to embarrass yourself? You had to humiliate Jimmy, too?”
At the mention of Jimmy’s name, I feel my whole body tense, and I jerk my head to look between my parents, both of whom look angrier than I’ve ever seen them. I blink at them in confusion before I finally find the words to speak. “Wait… You’re mad that I broke up with Jimmy? That’s what this is about?”
My mother throws her arms in the air in frustration. “Of course, we’re upset about Jimmy! Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to be accused of something as serious as plagiarism in front of your peers? And then you had the nerve to publicly break off your engagement without even giving him the courtesy of having a private conversation?”
I stare at them both, clearly feeling like I’m missing something, because why the hell are they defending him? Not to mention the irony of their words. “Are you serious right now?”
“Watch your tone, young lady,” my mother warns.
My father begins massaging his temples, like the whole idea of this conversation is stressing him out. “For the love of God, Scout. Are you trying to screw up your life? Is that what this is? Because you’re doing a damn good job of it.”
“You’re upset because I ended my engagement with someone who plagiarized my paper and got me kicked out of law school,” I say, trying to make sure I’m clearly understanding what’s going on right now.
