Count On Me

Closure

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2014 | 8:45 AM | TRIS

I arrive home feeling heavy, right through to my bones. All I want is to take something to stop the pounding in my head, then curl up in my silent, empty house and sleep. Maybe I can sleep for a hundred years, like Sleeping Beauty. At least that way by the time I woke up, it wouldn't matter any more that I messed up the one really good thing in my life.

I park my car in the driveway and drag my feet on my way into the house. My home used to always feel warm and inviting but I have realized that it wasn't the house or any of the things in it. It was my mother. Home was wherever she was. She made it warm and inviting. She made it a home. But now I hate being here; it feels cold and empty, just like me.

My eyes feel dry and scratchy, I haven't looked in a mirror yet this morning but they're probably bloodshot. My hair is probably a rat's nest too after last night's activities. I'm shaking my head and hoping none of the neighbors got a good look at me on my way in as I walk into the kitchen. I jump when I look up and see that I am not alone.

"Where have you been, Beatrice?" My dad's voice sounds calm, but I can see the anger in his eyes.

"Dad," I gasp. "I didn't know you were coming home this weekend."

"Obviously," he scoffs. "You never came home last night. Look at you. You're a fucking mess."

"I..." I gulp and stare at him, wide-eyed. "Jacob's funeral was yesterday. I was spending time with Uriah and his brother. I ― I slept there last night." Of all days for him to have come home, it just had to be today.

"And you couldn't bother responding to my calls and texts?" He stares me down.

I slowly take my phone out of my pocket and look at it; I was so panicked when I woke in Uriah's bed, I barely glanced at the time display. I didn't even register the notifications for three texts and two missed calls from my father.

"I'm sorry, Dad." I take a deep breath in and out to try and steady my shaking voice, and I blink back tears. Tears that have been there long before this conversation with my father. "I silenced my phone for the funeral yesterday. I must have forgotten to turn the ringer back on."

Dad gets up and takes his coffee mug to the pot on the counter for a refill. I can't help noticing that he looks just as put together as always, and it doesn't look like he lost any sleep. He must not have been that worried about me. I'm sure that he could have guessed where I might be, he could always have called Hana or driven over there, but he didn't.

"Is this a common occurrence, Beatrice? Having 'sleepovers' with that ― that little punk."

"He's not a 'punk!'" I cry. He can say whatever he wants about me, but not Uriah. He doesn't know a thing about Uriah, he never bothered enough to try and get to know him at all. "Who do you think held me after Mom died? Who answers when I call, no matter how late, and brings me chocolate cake when I am too sad to get out of bed? I sure haven't been able to count on you, my own father. You don't even know Uriah, you have no right to judge him!"

"You will not speak to me that way, Beatrice!" he shouts.

I just glare at him. "It's Tris," I spit. Turning on my heel, I leave him behind without another word or even another look and run up to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

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SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2014 | 9:50 AM

I have been lying on the bed just staring at the ceiling for nearly an hour. I'm totally zoned out, thoughts are zig-zagging through my mind so fast that it's like my brain can't complete one before it's interrupted by the next. And I have no one to talk to about it, no one to help me calm my racing thoughts. My mom is dead, Tobias is gone, and Uriah is the very reason I am freaking out right now. I feel so alone.