Eastwood Academy

Chapter 49 Had I Known... (River's POV)

If I had known what I was walking into, I would have never gotten out of bed this morning. I'd have faked an epic case of stomach poisoning. Seriously, it would be preferable at this point to have actually ingested bad food and spent a day with my head in the toilet to this clusterfuck.

On one side of me sits my mother, acting like her usual withdrawn self. She's currently making her way to the bottom of her third glass of wine. Given that she doesn't eat, I'm sure the whole thing has gone to her head.

That's the way my father prefers her, and thankfully, Doug and Brooklyn's father, Henry, are too polite to say anything. I'm sure my father has spun some bullshit story to Doug explaining why my mother is this way that doesn't involve one ounce of the truth; that my father is such a piece of shit to be around that anyone would need to be self-medicating to stay married to him.

On the other side of me sits my father, doing his usual king of the jungle routine. It's working flawlessly on Doug, but then again, it always has. They went to Duke together and were roommates freshman year, as my father has already said ten times.

It's laughable how different Doug's high school friend is from his college buddy. Night and day. Brooklyn's father is fantastic. I can tell from the few minutes we've been sitting here that he's a genuinely kind and caring person. The kind of man anyone would be lucky to have as a father. How I wish I were meeting him under different circumstances. What a terrible impression this will turn into when he realizes I'm dating his daughter. If she tells him about me, I wouldn't blame her if she doesn't. He clearly loves his daughter more than life itself, making an effort to draw Brooklyn into the conversation whenever he can.

His efforts are in vain. She resists him politely but successfully, giving the bare minimum of answers when prompted. It's a shame because I wish Doug could actually get to know her and see how wonderful she is. Maybe then he would write her a letter of recommendation, and she could relax about college and spend more time with me. Assuming she wants anything to do with me after this disaster.

But that will never happen when my father is around, always finding ways to steer the conversation back to his achievements and bragging about me. If he actually cared about me, it would be embarrassing but sweet. Since I know I'm only a means to an end, it just pisses me off, but I force myself to stay silent. It's torture, pure and simple. I want to throw my father's drink in his face and tell everyone what an asshole he is.

Unfortunately, I have bigger problems to worry about. Like, what the hell I'm going to tell Brooklyn when this farce of a lunch is over. When Doug asked me if we knew each other, I thought for sure that was it. That if I denied having a relationship with her, Brooklyn would be hurt enough to say something out of spite. But no, I underestimated her. She saved me, giving a flawless response to my coldly calculated answer.

I'm grateful and proud of her, but also so ashamed of myself and my family. Brooklyn deserves a boyfriend who can proudly introduce her to his family, which I would happily do if mine wasn't such a shit show. She hasn't looked at me since, which is probably a good thing, even though the thought sends a sinking feeling through my stomach.

Our waiter comes back to take our order, my father takes care to order the most expensive thing on the menu and treats the waiter like the dirt beneath his shoe. I'll make sure to find him and give him a good tip under the guise of needing to use the bathroom before we leave.

I'm just starting to relax when I hear the word "memorial." Fuck. I didn't think it was possible to feel even worse than before, but I do now. My stomach is churning so badly that I'm starting to get worried that my breakfast is going to make a reappearance.

"...They've been working on it since the beginning of the year." I catch the tail end of what Doug's saying.

"Are you helping with that too, Brooklyn?" Her father asks, turning to her. For the second time today, I prepare to see Brooklyn lose her composure because even under the best of circumstances, this is a topic that has caused nothing for trouble with us, and our unspoken agreement since we got together has been to avoid all mention of Imeria.

Once again, my assumption is proven wrong when Brooklyn says calmly, "No, I've been focusing all my efforts on the fundraiser. Imeria had a lot of friends on the soccer team. They're the ones in charge of preparing the memorial. All of them are very bright and working very hard."

I don't like to hear anyone say Imeria's name out loud (myself included), but hearing Brooklyn say it is like being electrically shocked. The last time she uttered her name aloud, I responded by saying things so vile I still lie awake and think about them sometimes, wishing I could take my words back. I remain silent now, settling for clenching my jaw so hard it's a wonder my teeth don't crack.

"River's been working on it," my father says, adopting a sympathetic tone as he places a hand on my shoulder. "Imeria was his girlfriend, as I'm sure you remember. Her loss hit all of us hard." he's speaking mainly to Doug now, giving him a reminder of why Doug puts up with my shitty behavior. Funny how my dad never let me off the hook for anything I did when I was grieving, but he loves to use it as an excuse with other people. Fucking hypocrite.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Henry says to me, real sadness at my loss showing on his face. "Brooklyn and I lost her mother a couple of years ago, I know how hard the process of grief can be."

Because her father is still looking at me, he doesn't see how Brooklyn goes rigid and pale, how she pulls her hands under the table so she can clench them into fists without anyone noticing. At this moment, there's nothing I want to do more than stand up, walk around the table, and take her in my arms. But I can't do that, so I settle on replying to Brooklyn's father.

"I'm sorry for your loss," I tell him. "Both of you," I add. Henry thanks me, and Brooklyn inclines her head in a semblance of a nod, looking a million miles away in her thoughts even though she's physically here.

"On to happier topics," Doug's cheery voice breaks the oppressive silence. "Brooklyn, have any of the young men at Eastwood caught your eye?"

It's an effort for me not to tense up as I anticipate her answer. I need her to say no, and I also desperately want her to say yes. What a mess. I really couldn't have fucked this up worse if I had tried. Brooklyn startles and then stares at him, for the first time today, looking flustered. "Oh, um, no?" She says, but it comes out like a question.

"What about that boy you're always talking about?" Her father asks, his voice teasing. At first, I think he's talking about me.

"Gavin, was that his name?" This time, it's me who has to slide my hands under the table so no one can see me clenching them into fists. Will we never be rid of that fucker?

"Oh my god, Dad, you can't say things like that," Brooklyn cringes and covers her face with her hands. "I told you we're just friends." Her reaction lightens the mood considerably; all of the adults laugh good-naturedly, even my mother.

Well, it lightens everyone else's mood. I'm silently fuming. What the hell did Brooklyn tell her dad that got him to believe she likes Gavin? She hasn't talked to him in over a month, so whatever she said to her father at the beginning of the year must have made a hell of an impression on him.

"Gordon St.Claire, is that you?" A voice asks behind me. All of us turn to look at the person talking, and it takes everything in me not to curse violently. Every time I think this fucking day can't get any worse, I'm proven wrong.