Camryn Quinn is finally getting what she wants...sort of. Moving into a dorm and away from her not so supportive father is a good first step, but like everything with him-it comes with strings. She must attend the college of his choosing for at leas...
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I pick up a FaceTime request from Gabi as I walk into Harry's, only to have her hang up immediately and text me instead.
Gabirella Brown: Didn't mean to call, in the middle of a lecture. What's up?
Me: Nothing is up. You called me, remember?
Gabriella Brown: Bitch... How is State? What are you currently doing?
Me: Walking into Harry's to study.
Gabiriella Brown: Classes have barely started, what could you possibly be studying?
Me: Let me know how it goes when you lose your scholarship...
Gabiriella Brown: Have I ever told you I HATE YOU... order a chocolate shake in my honor
I haven't told Gabi about dinner at my dad's house or the disastrous ending. Our conversations have become more spread out. More time passes between actual phone calls instead of texts.
It would require me to type a novel, the kind that is followed by a dark cloud of guilt hanging over my head. The one that usually blows in after I trauma dump, pulling her into my problems yet again.
It's already bad enough that when we do talk, it's usually me taking up all of the time. Normally I wouldn't feel the need to narrate my life, but without Gabi here to witness is I have to complain to somehow who will get it. Or at least pretend they get it.
And for the most part that's all it is. Gabi listening silently, only sprinkling her opinions in here and there.
It's never been this way between us. All serious conversations with nothing monotonous mixed in. We seem to only have time for the front page headlines, none of the other filler. But maybe that's what happens when you live hundreds of miles apart. I'm used to her having first hand exposure. Not getting the play by play later and being asked to give an honest opinion to something that doesn't really involve her anymore.
Alyssa did try to bring it up, but I quickly shot her down. I was quick to tell her that she shouldn't get involved, reassuring her that I'm fine. And I am.
And maybe I haven't brought it up to Gabi because at this point I'm jaded. The way my father talked to me, the way I just fled and retreated. It feels like I've done it a million times before. I have done it a million times before. It's just a play we've rehearsed and performed so many times that it doesn't really hold any weight anymore.
Jaded or not, it still hurts to know my father's default is still to expect the worst. That any little move I make towards being something he could possibly be proud of, even if it is just trying to show interest in others I know that he likes, is unworthy.
I think part of me was hoping that he would notice a difference. The fact that I was even talking at dinner in the first place should have been enough. But once again I've put more energy into the atmosphere around us than he has. Because to him, it doesn't matter. It never has.
