[ COMPLETED ]
Eliana Oakley and Casen Walker couldn't be further on the other's spectrum.
Eliana is twenty-one years old and in her last year of college. An artist at heart, she uses that to her advantage to further her early fashion design career...
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Walking out of the lecture room, I can't help the manic cackle that escapes me. It's official, I'm going crazy as hell, because there is no way I made a good score on that test so why the hell am I laughing?
Oh, because I could see it coming.
I twiddle with the keys in my hand as I make my way to my car that I've finally gotten back from the shop. Today feels like a Dunkin Donuts type of day.
Well, there's not much I can do about that test. I went in there and did what I had to do — which wasn't much considering I filled out the free response questions with biology answers.
In a physics class.
At this point, it is what it is.
Do I even need a degree at this point? Well, four years wasted in this environment tells me differently.
As I open the driver's door, my phone vibrates against my skin. I placed it in the waistband of my leggings, barring all sweaty complications that comes from hiding under two layers of clothing.
As I rest my bag in the passenger seat, I grab the now warm phone from my pants and try not to twitch at the feeling of my cool fingers on my own skin. The AC is wild in that hall, I swear.
Peering at the number on the screen, an even louder cackle escapes me.
First, I bombed a vital test and now this? Yeah, what have I done to deserve this?
Pressing the green button, I hold the phone to my ear and get in the car, ignoring the people watching me from the laugh I did to myself.
"May I help you?"
A soft sigh carries through the phone as I start up the ignition, "Eliana, I've been calling you."
"Oh, really?" I pull the phone from my ear and check my empty call log, "As far as I can see, I don't have anybody calling my phone, especially my toxic ass mother. Oh wait, I blocked her. And her last three numbers because she doesn't understand boundaries."
I can practically hear Patrice Thompson roll her eyes over the phone. I don't know what she expected from me, especially seeing as she's dropped from my life four times over.
But that's what toxic people do, they try to weasel their way back into your life as if they're not the reason you have issues in the first place.
"As I said," I throw my phone down in the cup holder and pull out of the parking lot, "May I help you?"
"Eliana." She breaks up my name as she always did whenever she wanted to scold me. I try not to shudder, "Your father and I have been talking —"
"My father..." Yeah, here comes another laugh, "Okay, I'm hanging up."
"Wait!" She stops me from pressing that tempting red button. Swear it looked at me first, "Eliana, I know you're mad."
I have to pull over before she makes me crash. When I put it into park, I connect the phone to the car's speaker, "Okay, let me stop you right there. I'm not mad — I'm content. Because I don't have you blowing up my phone every ten minutes trying to make me feel like shit."
I can feel her open her mouth to speak, but I don't allow her to, "And before you try to make me feel even more like shit, let me just say this — I don't care about what you and Owen — who isn't my father, thank you very much — are talking about because whatever it is shouldn't involve me. I'm not your daughter anymore, you're not my mom."
"Eliana, just hear me out." She tries and I have to keep yapping the steering wheel to keep from throwing my phone out of the window.
Why does she choose today of all days?
"I had an appointment today." She pauses and releases a shaky sigh and I just know her next words are going to mess me up for the rest of the week, "And the cancer came back. More aggressive this time. I want you to come home for Thanksgiving this year so we can talk and clear the air about things, Eliana, before...."
A predicament. How does one react to their estranged parent telling them that the cancer came back?
Why do I want to say yes? Despite all the shit she put me through, all the tears I've wasted on her before we even found the cancer the first time, all the trauma she's left me with...
Right now, I just want to call the person that actually raised me to be the woman I am today, except I can't really talk to the dead, can I?
"Will I regret it?" It's a stupid question. She's biased.
"You have to figure out for yourself, Eliana." Ah, there we go. The birth giver that I know and despise.
I prop my elbow up on the center console, raking my fingers through my puff, "Who else will be there?"
"Just us." She says, her tone quieter than not even two seconds ago. She's lying.
But let's chance it, why not?
What's the worst that can happen?
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