Page 85 of The Soulmate Theory

“It’s okay.” The voice was calm, nurturing. I became aware of the hand against my forehead, the chest my nose was pressed against. Slender and soft, smelling like my mom. “It’s okay, Honey. It’s okay, you’ll be okay.”

Her fingers rubbed across my forehead as she swayed side to side with me in her arms. I let my eyes open, realizing where I was. Kneeling down at the foot of my bed, my mother leaned against it as I spilled into her. My father sat cross legged on the floor across from us. His chocolate eyes were soft and kind. Fearful, too.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to him.

“You had a panic attack,” my mom breathed into my ear. “But you’re okay. We’re here, and you’ll be okay. Just breathe.”

I clenched my eyes shut but listened to her.

After a moment, my gasping breaths began to subside and I let my eyes fall open again. My father’s hand rested lightly on my knee, and I could tell he was faintly trembling. “Dad, I’m sorry,” I said again. I wasn’t even sure what exactly I was apologizing for. There were so many things.

He shook his head. “No, Penny. I am sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice was hoarse and hollow, like speaking into an empty shell. Whether I was the empty shell or he was, I wasn’t sure. “We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

We did, though.

Because I was still leaving. I’d figure out a way to leave. I wouldn’t sleep here tonight. I never wanted to sleep in this bed again. It’d only serve as a reminder that I wasn’t sleeping in Carter’s.

Whether they let me go or not, I was leaving tonight. I’d sneak away in the dark if I had to. And if that’s the route I’d be forced to take, I needed my parents to know that they were not the reason. I am the reason. I am the only reason I run away time and time again. I would not let them feel the guilt that I can never seem to escape from. I would not leave them with the look on their face that they’re giving me now.

I curled into my mom's side, dragging a blanket off the top of my bed and covering the both of us. “I just wanted an identity other than being the girl with the dead mom. Or the girl that was adopted by Dr. Mason. I wanted an identity that was about who I am, not what happened to me. I thought moving somewhere where nobody knew who I was would allow me to have any identity I wanted, but once I got there, I realized that I didn’t have any identity at all.”

My dad let out a defeated sigh, and I hoped he didn’t take my words too personally. He saved me from a childhood that I didn’t even want to imagine. I was grateful for him, I owed him everything. All of them.

Returning his sigh with my own, I launched into the same tale I gave Macie several weeks ago. The only other person I’d shared it all with. Including myself. For many, many months I allowed myself to block it out. Carter was right in that I had fabricated a version of events that didn’t happen. What he didn’t know—what he hadn’t allowed me to explain—was that I fabricated those events to myself, just as much as I did to him. I was in denial even when I spoke with Macie about it. It wasn’t until I saw the gutted look on her face, until she begged me to seek counseling, that I had considered there may be more to the story than what I’d always thought I believed.

It wasn’t until I actually began speaking with a counselor that I was able to unravel the truth and the lies.

Even in all the change that’s happened since the first time I spoke the words out loud to Macie, I still found them spilling from my mouth the second time with the same numb coolness they had with her. I couldn’t find it in me to shed tears over him anymore. I had far more important things to shed tears over now. Despite my dry cheeks, both my parents had moisture coating theirs. I couldn’t look at either of them.

They were quiet for a long time, even after they realized I was done talking. My mom pulled up her sleeve over her fingers and dabbed her eyes. My dad wiped away his tears with his bare hands. “Why didn’t you tell this to the disciplinary committee? They never would’ve expelled you if they knew the truth.”

“I…” I couldn't explain it. I didn’t defend myself because I believed everything James had told them was true. I believed that I had cornered him, that I had taken advantage of his mentorship and coerced him into becoming something more because I was lonely. That I had pressured him into helping me academically in return for what I offered him. He convinced the school that I had nothing to offer the relationship other than my body, but he had everything to offer me. I believed it too. But more than that, I think a small part of me wanted to come home, so I didn’t argue and I didn’t defend myself. I let them kick me out.

I only regretted the decision when it affected my ability to get accepted into other programs. Even then, I didn’t have the courage to face the truth of what happened or come forward or do anything but believe the things I’d been told to believe. And hate myself for them.

“I believed every accusation they made. There was nothing to argue with them about.”

My mother’s fingers brushed through my hair. “Well, we know the truth now. I’m so sorry we ever let you believe anything different. We should have pushed more.” She looked at my dad. “We knew something was wrong– off. We thought you needed time to… sort through things. But I never imagined…” She trailed off, sniffling.

Picking up for her, my dad said, “We always wanted you to have the freedom to handle your trauma the way you saw fit, because it wasn’t something we could relate to. When you stopped going to therapy, stopped talking about her...” He sighed. “We thought you were okay. When you came back from England, we wanted to let you handle that on your own too. We had no idea…” They both seemed to be at a loss for words. “Penny, if you still want to move to California, if you want to go to UCLA, you can. You should. But you’ve got to start talking to someone. You’ve got to promise me that, or I can’t let you go.”

I said quickly, “I already am. I have been. For a couple of months.”

“Good.” He nodded. “Good. And if you don’t want to go, if you want to take another year off, or never want to go back to school again, that’s okay too.” I began to shake my head. “Then you have to tell the school. If you’re going to go to UCLA, you need to tell someone there the truth. I won’t allow this to continue affecting your academic reputation.”

I opened my mouth to tell him that the therapist I found was through the school itself. That I had been having virtual sessions with her and had my first in-person one scheduled for the week I moved down there, but my mom cut in, “You know, we should contact Oxford. There might be more that can be done there. If we can explain, maybe you can even go back. If you wanted–”

“You can’t be serious?” My sister gasped from the hallway. My door had been left cracked, but it opened widely as her body appeared. “No.” Her eyes were red, telling me she’d heard every detail I gave my parents. “That happened to her because she wasalone. She can’t be alone again.” She then turned to me. “You just moved back. I can tolerate you living one state away, but not a world away. No. Pep–”

My chest sank as those letters left her lips. My eyes grew heavy again at the reminder of the person sitting just two hundred and ninety paces from me at this very moment, wanting nothing to do with me. My chest sank– not my heart. Because my heart was there, with him, and I wasn’t sure he wanted it anymore. “Don’t call me that,” I whispered. I buried my face in my hands, unable to control the emotions but refusing to show them.

“Oh, well that’s just bullshit. I’m sorry, I don’t care what’s going on with you and Carter. That ismynickname. I made that nickname and he stole it from me. So he can fuck off for all I care. You don’t get to associate that name with only him.”

A broken whimper escaped my mouth, muffled by my hands. My mother drew my back. “What happened?”

I shook my head, pulling my knees up to my chest. I didn’t want to talk about it with them. I remained silent as I let the wave pass over me. Lifting my head once I could control myself. “I still want to go to UCLA. I already have a counselor setup there. I’ve already spoken to them about everything.” Surprised by my sudden calmness, I lifted my chin, looking to my dad. “And I’d like to leave tonight. I need to leave tonight.”

I needed to leave because I could still hear the beating of my heart where I left it.

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