Page 43 of Retribution

Talk about being sucker-punched in the gut.

It’s also hugely embarrassing to be getting your morning coffee in your usual café and having some guy in a suit expose a huge aspect of what’s going on in your life.

Let’s just say my coffee tasted extra bitter that morning.

I’ve pondered too much about what to do with the papers I’ve reread probably a thousand times over.

I haven’t told anyone that Scott is not only trying to claim rightful ownership of the business, but he’s also trying to claim partial ownership of the dance academy.

I scoff, the audacity. He can try and fight a case regarding his business but coming after my dance academy that I formed with blood, sweat and tears, is another matter. And one I will not take lightly.

The dance academy is rightfully mine and it isn’t something he is going to get his filthy, cheating paws on.

I practically drag myself into my apartment, exhaustion sweeping over me both mentally and physically.

I look at the calendar on the side of the refrigerator, the ‘18th’, circled in pink love hearts and Lola’s name written in a red glitter gel-pen.

Only three more weeks until she becomes a wife, three weeks until I watch my youngest sister surpass me in life, knowing I’ve been reset to square one.

I did think that my busy schedule and career-driven self would be perfectly capable of conquering life alone, but I can’t deny the aching feeling in the back of my mind. The thought that I am twenty-eight years old and have no intentions of getting into anything long-term or serious for a while.

The worst part for women can be the ticking clock. The idea that we must find our life-long partner at a younger age so that we can bear children, something that I know I want very much for myself.

I want the chance to provide and become everything my mother never was. I want to be able to create a safe and loving family dynamic, a home.

This is never anything a male has to worry about, they can reproduce until the day they die if they want to, swap out the old for the new constantly.

Placing a mug under the coffee machine, I pop in an espresso pod and notice how much my brain is hurting, knowing how much I still have to do.

Looking around at the dark and cold room, the glistening lights of the outside world pour in through the windows. The world outside, living and breathing.

The machine beeps and I take the cup over to the desk in the living room, allowing the heat of the mug to warm my icy hands.

I am barely in the apartment long enough to adjust the heating, and to keep the bills down for my lone income.

Filtering through my emails for some time, I respond to queries and potential sponsors for the academy. The espresso has relieved some of the strain on my mind, allowing me to focus on some overdue tasks. My phone pings a notification next to me and it comes from an unrecognized number.

Who is texting me at this time of night?

(Unknown): Hey, can we talk? It’s Reed.

Reed? What could he possibly want to talk about? Surely, he knows that I now know about Allie. I lock the phone and return to updating the studio website with fresh pictures of our awards, including the new availability.

I smile fondly, knowing the huge progress I’ve been making over the past few years, the competitions we’ve entered and won.

My phone vibrates again, erupting a groan from me.

(Unknown): I know you probably don’t ever want to speak to me again, but it’s really important. It’s about Willow.

Willow? I find myself texting back before I can consider any awful situations.

(Indie): What’s happened with Willow? Is she okay?

(Unknown): She’s fine, but something is going on. Something I would prefer to speak to you about in person. I need someone who knows her, like you do.

His tone sounds serious. God knows how Willow is coping, how much she is hurting right now.

I can’t imagine being so young and losing a mother, especially one that was so devoted and loving as Allie was.

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