Royals

Chapter 50

Those papers were the legal divorce-settlement documents.

I took a seat in one of the chairs across from her desk, ignoring the similarities between her office and the one belonging to my school's principal. When she didn't make an attempt to clear up any of her time, I fiddled with a snow globe that appeared to have been obtained on a trip to Romania.

Eventually, my mother realized that I was patiently waiting and wasn't about to leave any time soon. So, she dismissed the person talking through her earpiece, silencing them with the simple click of a button. She entwined her fingers and dropped them onto a pile of documents, giving me her undivided--for now, at least--attention.

"Are you bleeding?" she asked in an uninterested, monotonous tone.

"Um, no?"

"Did you fall and bust your jaw open?" she continued, not looking any more interested than she was when she was sorting her papers.

"No? Mom, I'm not hurt."

"Do you need money?"

"No, I--"

"I really don't see any reason for you to be bothering me then," she dismissed, returning her attention back to her computer screen.

"Where's Dad?" I bluntly asked. I planned on beating around the bush, asking as many questions as I could to find out what she knew. However, she didn't follow the script that I had played out in my mind at all, so I was forced to be frank.

"Probably at work," she casually replied.

"When did you say he was leaving?"

"This weekend, I think. Why?"

"It seems like he had other plans..." I trailed off, waiting for her neck to snap up with a look of pure and complete shock. Conversely, she did no such thing. In fact, all she did was shrug her shoulders, so I forced myself to continue. "Mom, he's gone."

"Emily," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Just because he isn't at the house at this exact moment, doesn't mean he left for good."

"How about the fact that he packed up his office, the garage, and his side of the bedroom? Huh? Would that have anything to do with it?" I questioned, not bothering to veneer my sudden fury.

I knew I was upset with my dad, but my mom was the only thing I could express my anger on at the moment. Maybe if she had been more attentive earlier on in our conversation, I would have considered channeling my anger elsewhere. However, that wasn't what happened.

"You checked his drawers?" she queried after a moment of hesitation.

"Every last one of them," I responded.

"Well, I suppose he did have other plans. But, what did you expect? I told you before: your father gets bored after a while, and then he moves on. And that's exactly what he did today. I'm not sure why you appear so traumatized."

"I expected him to stick through until this weekend. He promised me, Mom. You don't understand; he promised. He never breaks his promises...ever," I croaked, my voice shaking worse than a naked man in Antarctica.

"Honey, people break promises. You know what you do about it? You build a bridge and get over it. Listen, I'm very sorry that you had to witness the real side--the side I've seen all along--of the man that's always been there for you. But he's gone now; there isn't a thing we can do about it," she spoke, sounding genuinely sorry.

"This weekend is the Daddy Daughter Dance. He wouldn't miss that, right?" I asked, my voice undoubtedly trembling with the fear of being disappointed. It was our tradition. He wouldn't miss it; even though he left us, he still loved Anastasia and me.