Vanilla

Chapter Fourteen

Dedicated to JJWriterz, because I'm pretty sure the long comment she left me about an hour ago was her less-than-subtle hint for a dedication. It worked, Jessie.

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            Really, I don’t know what I expected.

            Some kind of spontaneous fanfare? A physical weight being lifted from my shoulders? A sprinkling of confetti? Either way, nothing like that happened. In fact, without the meaning behind them, without the emphasis placed on keeping them locked inside, they were just words. Nothing more than just a combination of letters, strung together as a means of communication from the mind to the outside world.

            Just words. They couldn’t hurt you physically, but they were extremely good at tricking your mind into thinking differently.

            “It was my mum and dad,” I whispered. My voice was barely audible, let alone against the background of the ocean, but it didn’t seem like Daniel was having any trouble hearing. “Three years ago.”

            Three years and fifty-one days. I didn’t mean to count, mentally tallying up another twenty-four hours I’d got through without them, but I couldn’t help it. It just happened.

            “Oh, Flo.”

            Daniel’s face had transformed. Usually, this was the cue for pity to set in; I was almost afraid to see it etched across his features. Yet when I lifted my head, daring to meet his gaze, I came face-to-face with the sight of something very different. Understanding. Empathy.

            “What happened?” he asked, before cringing at his outright question. “Sorry. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

            Silently, I shook my head. “A car accident,” I forced out, my throat suddenly raw. “The other driver was drunk. I was only fourteen.”

            His expression could only be described as horror-struck; it must’ve had something to do with the fact I’d kept it quiet for the last month. Maybe he’d assumed he was the only one with a secret. “Oh, Flo, I know it doesn’t make it any better, but I’m so sorry…”

            I shook my head again. “It’s not your fault.”

            “I know, but–”

            “Daniel.”

            His name trailed off into heavy silence; he stared back at me, eyes searching my face. I resisted the urge to squirm under the scrutiny. “I’m fine,” I tried to say, but my voice cracked before it had even hit the last note. The dam was breaking, the memories flooding back, and suddenly all I could see through a glaze of blurred tears was the moment Nora had opened the door to see the police officer.

            One moment I was composed, expertly concealing my greatest weakness. The next, my mask was crumbling, tears rolling delicately down my cheeks.

            “Sorry,” I mumbled, swallowing hard. “I shouldn’t be making this about me.”

            I was ashamed by my selfishness. It was obvious Daniel was having a hard time dealing with his grief, and what he needed was support. Having to comfort me, bawling over something I should’ve already got to grips with, wasn’t going to help. It was stupid, I knew, to choose now of all moments to miss desperately the security of being enveloped in my mum’s arms, or the deep, hearty sound of Dad’s laugh that had always made everything seem okay, but that didn’t stop it from happening.