COMPLICATED.

CHAPTER 11

WHAT MATTERS

​"Let me explain," I murmur.
The silence that follows is tomb-like. My parents stare at me as if I’m an alien, while Paul is visibly shaken. Say something, please. The emptiness of the room pushes me to keep going, hoping to trigger a reaction—any reaction.
"It’s the right thing to do. I have to get away from here; I have no other choice."
​My mother starts to laugh softly. It’s a thin, nervous laugh that doesn't stop. It’s her danger signal: she’s beyond furious.
"No, you certainly don’t. Henry, tell her... she’s joking, can't you see?"
My father, however, doesn't seem to think it’s a joke at all. He puts on his authoritarian mask and speaks up.
"Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Have you actually thought about this?! You’re throwing everything away just for some prick who can't keep it in his pants. You’re letting him ruin your entire future!"
​"You know perfectly well that Leo isn't the only reason! That’s all bullshit!" I snap back instantly, my voice trembling with rage.
"Watch your language, please!" my mother intervenes, pointing at my brother.
"Oh my god, Mom! I’m ten years old, I know swear words!" Paul shouts, losing his patience. "Let her finish talking!"
My father is taken aback by his tone, while my mother whispers her famous "we’ll talk about this later" to him. Tomorrow, he’ll definitely be grounded. But he was only trying to defend me. He’s the best.
​My father brings me back to reality. "Talk. Explain everything to me."
I take a few deep breaths and pour my heart out for the second time this endless night.
​When I finish, they just stare. Again.
Paul looks strangely relaxed. My father walks away to get a glass of water, likely to recover from the shock, while my mother starts screaming at me.
"Juilliard! We are talking about Juilliard, Emma! Do you know how hard it is just to get an interview?! You’re truly losing your mind! You’re self-destructing! You were so determined, so perfect until yesterday, and now..."
​"Enough! I can’t take it anymore!" I scream at her. "Perfect in this, perfect in that... you have to be this way, you have to be like her! Mom, don't you get it?! I’m not perfect, I never was, and I’m sorry I’m not your carbon copy. I tried so many times, but it isn't ME. I need to figure it out, and I’ll never do that here."
I’ve just shouted the words I never had the courage to confess to my mother. She is speechless, tears streaming down her face. But, being the perfect woman she is, she recovers in seconds and continues to stare at me without a word.
​My father breaks the silence.
"Fine. I understand you. Where do you plan on going? Do you have an idea yet?"
"Henry! How can you accept this?! She’s our daughter, for god's sake!"
"Exactly, she’s our daughter! Look at her, Theresa! Does she look happy to you? You know her—do you think she’ll ever be happy here?! It’s her decision and I don't want to lose her forever!" he shouts, addressing the room rather than my mother directly.
Great. I managed to be the reason for one of their rare arguments. Will there ever be a moment of peace?
​"Well?" my father asks me.
"I don’t know for sure, I haven't had much time to decide on a location. But I saw that London has some good universities and music schools. It’s also your hometown, and I thought..."
I stop because I notice a look of deep concern pass between my father and mother.
"Sweetheart, please... not London. You don't really want to go there," my father whispers.
"Why not? I mean, nothing is final yet. What’s your problem with London? It’s where you grew up; it wouldn't be a bad idea," I respond, confused.
What is happening? I don't understand.
After a few moments, my father sighs.
"I understand it’s your decision, but we’ll have to talk about this another time."
​"This is impossible! I won't accept it!" my mother cries, rushing up the stairs.
"Theresa, please!" my father calls out, but it’s no use; she’s already locked herself in the room.
"I’ll talk to her. It’ll be okay. You can count on me," my father says, turning to me and Paul. "We’ll talk more tomorrow. Now go to sleep."
​I can't believe it. He defended me. He chose to stand by me.
Overwhelmed with emotion, I run to him and hug him tight. "Thank you, Dad," I whisper. He pulls away with a weak smile and walks off.
"Are you coming to my room before you go to sleep? Someone has to read me my comics!" Paul says, catching my attention.
I smile and follow him.
Once in his room, I fix his pillow and look at his vast collection of comic books.
"So, which one do you want me to read?"
​"Forget it. I’m old enough to read by myself; I didn't bring you here for that," Paul says with a serious look. Sometimes I forget he’s just a kid when he talks like that.
"I’m going to ask you one question, and I want a straight answer. Is this really what you want?"
"Yes. It’s the right thing and it’s what I want."
"Then that’s all that matters. I want you to be happy and at peace. I’m on your side."
I immediately go to hug him, and surprisingly, he hugs me back even tighter.
"If you think you’re getting rid of me for good, you’re dead wrong. I’m going to annoy you for the rest of your life. That’s a promise," he tells me as I reach the door.
I can’t help but stick my tongue out at him, which makes him laugh.
I can finally go to sleep in peace now. Or almost.