COMPLICATED.

CHAPTER 35

PREPARATIONS

"Are you truly certain you want to leave? It’s far too hot to face a move," Dad says, appearing utterly exhausted. The heat seems to weigh on his shoulders like a physical burden.

"I have to. I understand you all too well; I don’t even have the courage to check downstairs," I reply between ragged breaths. I feel like I’m suffocating in this house that is fast becoming an empty shell.
The final days of May have been a literal hell, among the most torrid of recent years. Manhattan seems to be going up in flames under a merciless sun that offers no respite.
The party was only a week ago, and from the following day, I felt like I’ve been running without pause, more frantic than a hamster on a golden wheel. After sending off the final bureaucratic documents for college, the confirmation for my audition date arrived: next Friday. They don't give you much time to prepare; if you have talent, you must be able to prove it instantly. In just one week, we managed to dismantle the entire microcosm of my room and the rest of the house; I expected to have to leave eventually, but I never imagined it would happen so soon.
Since Monday, my mother has been a prisoner of panic, organizing every single movement of the relocation, while my father and brother escorted me through the request for a room on campus. Nick, on the other hand, has been my compass for choosing the song setlist. I don’t know how, but we managed to handle this chaos perfectly in such a short window of time. Amidst all this disorder, I dedicated myself entirely to consuming the final moments with Aria, between evening trips to the cinema and clubs, but especially with Nick. We did one last tour of half of New York, passing from the majestic silhouette of the Statue of Liberty to the panoramic vertigo of the city from the towering Empire State Building, from the abundant, spicy dinners in Chinatown to the hilarious karaoke nights in Brooklyn bars.
Not forgetting our beloved Central Park, where we allowed ourselves, for the last time before my departure, our usual walks along the lake and our picnics on the grass. It was like rediscovering the city for the first time; I will miss it viscerally, even though I can’t wait to leave.
As for Nick, nothing has changed on the surface; we agreed to bury what happened and remain best friends—or at least, that’s the lie I want to convince myself of. During these days, there were times when we exchanged deep gazes and, with our eyes, openly betrayed this promise of ours. Everything had become too strange between us; physical contact was almost non-existent, and I missed his touch more and more, until it seemed to almost dissolve into nothing. Perhaps it’s better this way; if we had let ourselves go completely, it would have only resulted in more suffering, and that is the last thing I want.
My cousins have vanished into thin air; Deborah changed her phone number and Marcus limited himself to wishing me a safe journey via a cold WhatsApp message, adding that he would be in Miami for two months for work matters. I know through my mother that Grandma suffered another emotional breakdown and had to return immediately to the nursing home, where she will remain for a while. My aunt, after the colossal "embarrassment" at the party, hasn't contacted me again, and Robert can quietly disappear from my life for eternity.
It’s really happening; only a few hours remain and I will be in London for a new, radical beginning. I hope with all my heart that by changing environments, the nightmares will also decrease; I can’t go on like this anymore.
I thoughtfully observe the objects left out of the many boxes and meticulously double-check those already sealed inside.
"Everything okay, sweetheart?" Dad asks, noticing my sudden, dark silence.
I shake my head slightly and give him an encouraging smile.
"Sure, I was just reflecting on... well, a bit of everything."
Dad places the lamp he was clutching on the bed and reaches me, pressing delicate kisses to the sides of my temples.
"Everything will be fine, you know that, right?" he whispers softly in my ear.
I hope so.
"It has to. I’ll do everything possible to make sure it goes well."
Nick’s voice creeps forcefully into my mind and, as if by magic, relaxes every muscle in my body. I am too tense, too coiled.
"Yes, I know, everything has to go well."
Dad’s dampened smile, veiled in sadness, makes me uncomfortable, causing a sense of suffocating anguish to sprout within me again. I take a step back, moving away from his protective grip, and begin checking the room, the bathroom, and the inside of the closets for the umpteenth time, fruitlessly.
"The photographs?"
"They’re in this box," Dad replies, pointing to one with the word "MEMORIES" traced in large letters.
"Good."
"I’d say everything is in its place. We’d better head down; Nick has been helping the staff for hours..."
I can’t believe it. It’s already terribly difficult to leave without him, and he never listens to me!
"I told him explicitly that he could wait for me at the airport entrance! Why is he here?!" I exclaim, already knowing the answer deep down.
"Emma, you know him well. You know how he is; he would do anything to stay close to you for as long as possible."
I strongly doubt it, seeing as he’s barely touched me these days. I huff heavily, wiping the sweat beading on my forehead with my arm.
"I understand it’s difficult to separate from the person you love for a while."
"No, Dad..."
I am not at all ready to have this conversation with him.
"There are other ways to stay in touch; now there’s Skype and you can do a lot of things; for example, when I was traveling around Europe for book promotion, your mother and I..."
"Can you please avoid illustrating the details of your sex life with Mom? I have no need for it and absolutely no desire to know," I comment, exasperated. I feel like covering my ears with my hands and screaming until he stops talking about it.
"Alright, alright!" he exclaims, raising his hands in a gesture of apology. "Then you can use Skype to talk to us. Paul would surely be thrilled about it."
"I don’t love him anyway," I mutter to myself, thinking back to his previous statement.
"Then why are your thoughts constantly directed at him?" he asks me, giving me his famous wink.
"Because I hate lies," I lie shamelessly.
The truth is I have no idea how to answer him. I don’t love him, of course not... but I care about him more than before. I think? Is that possible? Better to change the subject before the situation takes a turn for the worse.
"Paul is becoming your carbon copy. You two need to stop with this winking business. It’s creepy!"
"Aah, what a lucky boy! So? Shall we go down and help that poor guy?"
"I’m coming right now, I just need to take a quick shower. If you want, you can start heading down; I’ll join you in a moment."
Dad casts one last look at my now-bare room and, after nodding, exits, closing the door with a sharp thud. Meanwhile, I take the emerald green dress and a white cardigan I had carefully chosen the night before from the closet and head toward the shower.
"I wish you only the best, Miss Hamilton," Miranda tells me with a deeply affectionate tone as I descend the flight of stairs. Out of the twenty maids who work here, she is undoubtedly the one I am closest to. She has been by my side since I was in swaddling clothes, but above all, she endured my sudden mood swings during my turbulent high school life. She was also one of the rare women to understand how grueling and stressful it can be to be part of a golden but complicated world like mine. Despite her humble origins, she knows perfectly well what it feels like to feel out of place. Being a grandmother to seven grandchildren served her well in almost entirely replacing the figure that was snatched away from me many years ago; I will be grateful to her for that for my entire life.
It is heart-wrenching to think that this will be one of the rare times I will see those marked wrinkles that furrow her face at the corners of her eyes when she smiles, showing her dentures. Just the thought makes me sob uncontrollably. So I pull her violently toward me and squeeze her with such force that I seem dependent on her hug. Her body presses against mine and I hear her laugh softly when she realizes she can barely breathe from the squeeze. After a few seconds, she pulls away from me, carefully smoothing her white apron and staring with a veil of fear at my father, standing at the bottom of the stairs. She probably fears she showed a lack of professionalism.
Dad is far from angry; he appears... visibly moved.
"Oh, how I’ll miss you!" I confess to her, making the pout she has now learned by heart.
"I’ll miss you very much too! You will be our pride, I am absolutely certain of it. Ah, I almost forgot!"
She climbs a step so she can bring herself to my height.
"In your travel backpack, I’ve tucked two special sandwiches... the peanut butter ones you like so much. Please, don’t breathe a word to your brother, otherwise he’ll never speak to me again!" she whispers to me, squeezing my fingers in hers.
I narrow my eyes and chuckle softly.
"It’ll be our little secret."
"Perfect, now I should..."
She points with her thumb to the upper floor to let me know her work intentions.
"Sure, go ahead. And thanks again for everything you’ve done for me."
"If you need my help you can call me at any time; I know you’ve kept my number."
She climbs the stairs with a quick step, eager to finish her usual daily chores.
"When will you finally decide to call me by my name and use 'tu'?" I yell after her.
"Never!" she replies, giving a quick wave of her hand.
At the exact moment I see her disappear, I realize how many dear people I am abandoning, and that anguish only increases in intensity. I try to push it away with force; I want to leave happy and convinced of what I am doing. Yes, it must be exactly like that. I nod decisively toward my father as I descend the final remaining steps. I pull my long hair into a high ponytail.
"Alright, let's get to work. What’s still missing?" I ask with fake conviction.
My confidence vanishes instantly when I notice the frantic coming and going of servants and movers entering and leaving the house. It feels like reliving one of the lavish parties organized by my mother, only with different faces than usual. I remain stunned, unable to understand if it’s a positive or negative feeling.
"Goodness! How many people did you hire?!"
Dad looks around, carefully monitoring every single action of every worker.
"Don’t complain to me! It’s all your mother’s fault! As you see, the work is nearly finished."
A team of robust men detaches one of the many family photographs hanging on the wall with the utmost care. They are also removing one of my favorite paintings. The one portraying Paul laughing happily on the swing while Mom reaches her arms out toward him. I knew they would make me take it with me.
Sharp noises coming from the room at the back catch my attention. I am certain that terror is perfectly visible on my face when I glimpse men carrying away a mountain of books from our map room. I run in that direction, ignoring the shouts behind me from my father and I don’t know who else. I throw open the door and prepare to vent the worst part of myself.
"What on earth are you doing to my boo—"
The voice dies in my throat when, in front of me, I see Nick intent on giving precise orders to everyone. He clutches a sheet in his hands and frantically underlines words in what I assume is a list. His attentive, fixed gaze makes me realize he hasn't noticed my presence at all. Once he finishes writing more sentences, he rests the pencil he was using on his upper lip. He slides it delicately from one corner of his mouth to the other, completely absorbed in his thoughts. I observe him with my mouth open, unable to articulate a single word.
His attention then shifts to the high shelves of the library. He watches someone who, using a ladder, reaches my favorite corner.
"Slide that one out with extreme care. Yes, you heard me right. Wuthering Heights is one of her favorite books. Let it be clear, I don’t want to see a single volume fall to the ground. Excellent, now pass it to your colleague," he orders in an authoritative tone of voice.
He is identical to his father; I see the man in him every single day. He runs a hand through his hair, mussing it, and studies his next move. He heads with quick steps toward the opposite side of the library, ready to issue commands again.
"Gentlemen, please, you are dealing with first editions of some immortal classics of English literature! Exactly, that’s The Great Gatsby and that other one is Pride and Prejudice, so try not to make a mess. Thank you."
At his every word the men huff irritably, but he incinerates them with a cold gaze. It is sensational to observe this blunt and authoritative side of him in sharp contrast with the sweet and protective one. But at the same time, I perceive how agitated he is. I feel that it is so; I don’t let myself be fooled by his coldness of these last few days. I can't believe I have to leave today of all days, without him. I don’t even think I have the strength to make it.
"Emma! What a stubborn daughter! I warned you everything was under control," Dad yells, bursting rudely into the room.
Nick flinches, caught off guard, and finally turns toward us. I look at him strangely, while Dad stares at me with a confused air.
"There you are finally!" Nick exclaims, coming toward us.
His demeanor shifts instantaneously: from authority, he moves to lightheartedness.
"Here I am," I barely whisper.
Silence reigns supreme for a few moments. We only exchange looks steeped in embarrassment. It is my father who breaks the ice.
"How is the work proceeding here?"
Nick blinks, I think to chase away some annoying thoughts, and answers him.
"We’ll take these last books, arrange them in the box, and we’re done."
"Good lad," Dad confirms, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder.
"I’m happy to be of help. For my friend, anything."
Fine, now I’m not even his best friend, I’m just "a friend."
A DAMN FRIEND.
"It wasn't necessary at all," I mutter, visibly annoyed.
Both stare at me. Did I really say that out loud? I try in vain to lighten the icy air that has just been created around us.
"I mean, I thank you, but we were already at a good point. We would have seen each other directly at the airport, as we had agreed."
Nick takes a step back, moving away.
"I just wanted to give a hand."
"I’m honored that you want to help one of your MANY friends."
I need to calm down, immediately. The proof of what he is willing to do for me is right before my eyes. I’m only drastically worsening the situation. And I’m literally going crazy. Dad coughs from embarrassment while Nick snickers, amused. Is he serious?!
"You’ve completely misunderstood me."
"It’s now evident that for you I always misunderstand everything," I hiss with my arms crossed.
Nick opens his mouth, ready to counter my accusations.
"Alright kids, I’d say that’s enough. Don’t start fighting again like when you were little! No arguments today, it has to be a perfect day, remember?" Dad suggests, physically placing himself between us.
I was so infuriated that I almost forgot his presence.
"You’re right, Henry."
Nick gives a forced smile to my father and then turns to me.
"We won't see each other for a long time, let's try not to argue right now."
My accusations hurt him. That’s all I needed. Why can’t I ever shut my mouth?! The fact that I can no longer be near him causes a knot in my throat and pushes me to say these mean things. I blink quickly to chase away the tears that start to sting my eyes.
"Emma?" my father’s voice brings me sharply back to reality.
"Yes, you’re right," I finally state.
"Now that we’ve cleared things up, I have to confess something. Your mother got stuck in a conference and a sudden business meeting. she can't come back home."
Wait...
"Does this mean I won't see her before my departure?"
Now I am the one sinking into panic. Dad shakes his head and draws me to him, entirely encircling my waist with one arm.
"Are you joking?! Your mother would never allow it; we’ll reach her directly there. In fact, she almost ordered me to with a peremptory tone. Paul is with her too; he left early from his last day of school just to be able to say goodbye to you."
"What time is your flight scheduled for?" Nick asks me with an impassive tone.
"At 6:00 PM."
He checks the watch on his wrist, carefully observing the ticking hands. They are moving far too fast...
"It’s 2:00 PM. We have plenty of time if we get moving now."
Dad gives an incomprehensible sign to two members of the staff.
"Perfect, I’m going to tell Charlie to supervise the work while we’re away and then we can go. All your things will arrive at the campus in two days, after passing through checks. In the meantime, you have the necessities for the first day with you. Is that okay for you?"
I nod as I glimpse a large truck loaded with stuff through the window.
"We’ll take my car."
I regret the day my black Audi decided to break down, forcing me to go to the mechanic. In the end, it turned out it was for the scrapyard. We have to wait for the new one to arrive.
"Treat my new car well when it’s delivered. I’m saying this especially to you, Nick, I already know you’ll use it in secret," I accuse him, trying to laugh.
He and my father exchange a knowing look and then smile at each other.
"Uh, certainly. I’ll personally make sure it’s up to your standards," he says in a low voice.
Before I could ask him why he was so serious, he starts talking again.
"If you want, we can take mine. It’s already positioned to exit the driveway and, after you’ve left, I’ll drive your father home," Nick suggests.
I turn to Dad, who agrees with a shrug. Nick presses a single button on the keys, unlocking his Mercedes. Dad closes the door and enters the cabin in an instant. I grab the handle, but I am jerked backward before I can open it.
"What are you doing?" I ask Nick sharply as he continues to drag me away from the driveway.
It’s the first time he’s touched me in days; I would have preferred it didn't happen this way. He doesn't answer me. I push away his hand that is gripping tight on my waist and finally manage to free myself. I turn to stare him straight in the face. His gaze is steeped in melancholy; the way he clenches his jaw scares me. His hand moves slowly toward my face and barely touches it with a finger. He catches me completely off guard.
"Have you gone crazy?!" I whisper, annoyed.
His hands descend along my collarbone and my breaths become increasingly labored and short. His eyes remain glued to mine. The anger vanishes instantaneously when his fingers touch my smooth skin. Every one of his fingertips pressing on my body is like a fuse capable of triggering a massive fire.
"Nick..."
Sudden tingling and chills spread along my legs, reaching the most sensitive part of my body. My eyes widen in surprise. What is happening to me? I’ve never felt such a sensation for anyone until now. When he brushes my arm, I am certain I could fall into the void at any moment. Finally, his fingers stop above our bracelet and he begins to play with the charms that shine vividly under the sun’s rays.
"Have you already forgotten the deep meaning of this?" he asks me, pointing to it.
"And have you already forgotten that I'm a total disaster?"
He rolls his eyes.
"And have you already forgotten that there are two of us?" he murmurs with a hint of mischief.
I lift the corners of my mouth slightly in a shadow of a smile.
"I'm sorry. I know how much you care about me, I should never have questioned it. I’m just tremendously sad and stressed. I’ll miss everything about here..."
I stop to catch my breath, seeking the necessary courage to confess what I feel at this moment.
"...I'll miss you," I say, letting out a sigh.
His eyes grow watery; he bites his lower lip to hold back the tears. We are barely a millimeter apart; I feel his warm breath breaking against my lips. His hands gently caress my back and he pulls me toward him to draw me into one of his wonderful, warm embraces. I run my nails over his shoulders while he rubs his face against my neck. Closing my eyes and letting myself be carried away by his familiar scent are the only things I can do while he leaves a trail of tender kisses on my skin. I can't pull away from him; I don’t want to. I hold him back in turn, grabbing his arm, testing the solidity of his trained bicep.
"I'm sorry too. I've been distant these last few days, but I'm terrified too," he murmurs against my ear.
He pulls back slightly so he can observe his reflection in my eyes for the millionth time. What can he be afraid of?
"I'm afraid all this will end."
His whisper rings like a scream that echoes painfully in my head. My mind registers this sentence and repeats it obsessively until it seems like the pure truth. I don't know exactly what he means by "all," but I know for certain that the deep affection I feel for him will never cease. My hand follows the features of his face, sliding from his cheek to his stubbled chin.
"It won't end."
I have never been so sure of something in my entire existence. I won't lose Nick, whatever role he decides to play in my life. His hand covers mine when I linger with my index finger over his lower lip.
"I'll see you very soon. Trust me, piccola."
The deafening sound of the car horn makes us jump in startle.
"Goodness, Dad!" I shout, visibly annoyed.
Nick, on the contrary, bursts out laughing.
"Stop with these pleasantries! You’ll say your goodbyes properly when we’re inside the airport. I’m happy you’ve made peace, but move it now or we’ll be late. Your mother will kill me if we miss the appointment!" Dad replies, worried.
Nick immediately takes his place in the driver's seat and opens the door for me from inside the cabin. I turn to admire the villa one last time. The sun illuminates the side facade of the building, making the white of the walls even more brilliant. The veranda remains in shadow, my secret hiding place. The windows are almost all wide open; someone passes in front of them, but they don’t stop to look out like I usually do. I smell the scent of freshly cut grass; the garden embraces the house, making it almost fairytale-like. Seen through the eyes of a stranger, it might appear as the home of snobbish rich people, like all the other villas in the area. Seen through my eyes, it is the guardian of the memories of my entire childhood and the shield that protected me from what happens outside these walls.
"Emma?" Nick calls me gently.
"I’m here," I answer him softly.
I take my seat in the passenger side and fasten the seatbelt. The car speeds fast through the streets of Manhattan.
Harper Publications stands proud among the various skyscrapers. Most of these buildings tend to be imposing but at the same time cold, with their enormous transparent glass windows. Our building, however, is more classic, yet blends harmoniously with the modern, preserving its historical authenticity. The windows are smaller but equally allow the sun to flood the internal rooms with light. At this precise moment of the day, the sun reflects directly onto our building, leaving the others almost in darkness. Once the traffic light projects the green light, we hurriedly cross the sidewalk.
Numerous people dressed in an elegant manner are intent on crossing the sliding door, but as I pass, they immediately give way to me. They recognized me. My father is continuously stopped by someone I assume is important or famous. People walk frantically from one side to the other; they are so rapid that I can barely focus on their faces. The typical smell of old books and vanilla essence has remained unchanged, the same as when I used to come here to help Mom.
The marble statues of history's greatest writers stand at the center of the main hall and, right behind them, the official logo of the publishing house stands out: the "H" and the "P" are highlighted compared to the rest of the name. Under the logo, an effective phrase appears, handed down from generation to generation:
"Find your story in our books."
When I collaborated with my mother in the search for new authors to launch, I realized more and more how deep a truth it was. All this really exists. Maybe I don’t harbor the dream of becoming a writer, but I perfectly understand the impact that words can have on our soul. They express it through writing and reading; I demonstrate it with the help of music. Two worlds that appear distant but are impeccably interwoven.
The gigantic screens affixed to the walls show the titles of upcoming books; I observe them almost hypnotized. I only realize now that Nick has remained behind me all this time, followed by my father. While waiting for the usual passes for free access to the upper floors to be delivered to us, we are offered expensive champagne which I categorically refuse, stifling a surge of nausea. I hear my father direct one of his usual bad jokes about youth alcoholism to the receptionist.
"Shall we go to Mom or do you intend to continue tedious talk to those trying to work?" I say, turning to him.
Dad pretends to be offended to death while the boy behind the counter stares at me, visibly blushing. I must admit he is a very handsome boy. Sophisticated in his movements, his platinum blonde hair is fixed with gel, he has magnetic gray almond-shaped eyes and a groomed beard that highlights full lips.
"I am definitely more handsome," Nick whispers in my ear.
Impressive, he manages to read my thoughts. I huff, shaking my head slightly. The boy, with a trembling hand, signs some papers and hands me three tickets.
"You’ve been extremely kind..." I tell him, modulating my voice in a sensual way. I check his name on the identification tag.
"Kevin."
"Uh, exactly."
He begins to cough without pause and dabs his sweat-beaded forehead with a handkerchief. Let’s see how jealous you can be, Nick... I smile at him, languidly batting my eyelashes. God, how I hate having to imitate Sasha!
"Nice name."
"T-thank you, Miss Hamilton," he stammers.
"There’s a queue behind us," Nick growls.
Oh, you are rotten jealous. It should annoy me, but how is it possible that I like it so much? It’s now established; I adore creating little dramas. I pass the other two tickets to Dad and Nick and we move away, reaching the private elevator. Dad stays behind us by just a few centimeters.
"I am so much more handsome!" Nick exclaims crossly, repeatedly pressing the red button.
I remain silent.
"Don't deny it."
"And who intends to deny it?"
Nick flaunts a satisfied smile. The button turns from red to green and the sliding doors snap open. We enter and wait in absolute silence for the announcement of the top floor on the display. A chime and the opening of the doors signal our arrival. The soft sound effects coming from the stereo systems make the environment relaxing. The floor reserved for offices is perfectly organized, immaculate; there is no trace of dust. My aunt is obsessed with control and cleanliness; she has the entire company sanitized every two hours.
The waiting room houses an enormous bookcase, almost identical to the one we have at home, but the others on the lower floors are literally mammoth. Besides this, there are paintings of every kind that faithfully respect the surrounding design. The dominant colors of the room are the white of the floor, the black of the walls, and the bright red of the chairs and sofas. Nothing has changed since the last time I was here. I don’t frequent these offices often; before, I preferred to give my contribution from home, so as to avoid contact with the rest of the world.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," a woman calls us with a shrill voice.
She can’t be more than thirty years old, as deduced from her style of dress: a librarian look corrected with a glam touch. She waves her fingers, fresh from a manicure, in the air and doesn’t deign us a glance while checking documents from behind her desk. She smacks her tongue while noisily chewing gum. How is it possible that I don't know her? Yet I know almost all the employees. My father's expression suggests he is as confused as I am.
"What has she managed to do this time?!" Dad sighs. He looks at her horrified.
Nick remains aside and settles on the sofa, observing the scene shielded behind a magazine he clutches in his hands. If no one decides to take the initiative, I will. I rest my elbows on the polished surface of the desk.
"Hello," I greet her cordially.
She carefully avoids meeting my gaze, as if she didn't care in the least about my presence.
"Do you have an appointment with Mrs. Hamilton or not?!"
I beg you, spit out that gum. One can understand nothing when you speak.
"No, actually we are here to..."
She interrupts me sharply, raising her hand in front of my face. Okay, huge mistake. My father walks toward me.
"The lady is extremely busy today. If you wanted an appointment, you should have booked in advance."
She is the first person in this city who hasn't recognized me. It’s a pleasant feeling, I dare say. Dad dials Mom’s number, which she answers on the first ring.
"Come on, don't do it," I plead.
I show the girl my identity card before all hell breaks loose. She analyzes it carefully and then her eyes widen in shock. But it’s too late: Mom is already storming out of the conference room, furious. The woman, as soon as she sees her, instantaneously changes her demeanor and snaps to her feet.
"Kimberly, if my daughter and my husband show up here, it is your precise duty to inform me immediately," Mom reprimands her in front of all the staff.
"Ma'am, I am deeply sorry, I was not aware."
"You would know if you had paid due attention to what I’ve been telling you since the day you were hired. I warned you they were coming."
Mom in professional version is not a pretty sight.
"I wouldn't have said anything, but I won't tolerate my daughter being treated this way!" Dad says, staring the secretary straight in the eyes.
"It’s not her fault, she didn't know me. It’s okay, it can happen."
I’m tired of being considered fragile or in need of protection; it is precisely for this reason that I want to leave, where no one knows who I am.
"It must not happen, Emma; it is her job as an assistant to know these details."
She is literally furious. I feel such pity for her that I decide to help her not get fired on the spot.
"Mom, mistakes happen! Now that she knows who I am, it won't happen again."
Kimberly nods, scared to death.
"I’ll let it slide this time. We’ll talk about it later, Kim. I mean it, don't pass me any phone calls for any reason," she warns with a severe tone.
"Certainly."
She lets out a visible sigh of relief. Mom and Dad greet each other, exchanging a quick kiss, while Nick positions himself by my side.
"Thanks for the help. I really need this job, I didn't want to be rude. It’s just a bad day," Kim whispers so as not to be heard.
If I had met her in other circumstances, I might even have liked her.
"No problem. I know my mother can sometimes be decidedly... complicated," I murmur back to her.
She gives me a fleeting smile without adding anything more, for fear of risking further.
"Emma? Let's go into the office so I can say goodbye properly," Mom exclaims, starting to walk.
Nick picks up my handbag from the floor and we follow her.
"So, no apartment?" Mom suggests for the hundredth time in a week.
Here we go again!
"No, don't insist. I want to be a normal girl who goes to college and shares a room with an unknown roommate. Please, let me do it."
She wrinkles her nose in a doubtful way.
"Besides, knowing you both, you wouldn't buy me a normal apartment, but a penthouse in the heart of London!"
Mom and Dad scrutinize each other. Just as I thought...
"Are you serious?! At least tell me you haven't bought anything yet. They just confirmed my room!" I exclaim desperately.
"No, don't worry. Honey, she’s right; let her live this experience like all the other kids her age," Dad says, turning to Mom as he runs his fingers through her hair.
Still uncertain, she furrows her brow and covers her face with her arm.
"After all, when I was in college, sharing a tiny room with someone wasn't so bad..." Dad continues to tell.
"But you once confessed to me it was a hell! Your roommate brought a different girl to bed every night, while you slept right there next to them! Not to mention the time he proposed you do a threesome; it’s a wonder you didn't accept!"
We all stare at her, stunned by the words that just came out of her mouth. After realizing the slip-up, she covers her mouth, cursing in a low voice.
"What’s a 'threesome'?" Paul intervenes suddenly.
Nick tries to hold back his laughter by covering his mouth, while my eyes widen.
"Nothing!" I scream in a panic.
Dad laughs heartily while Mom playfully slaps his chest.
"Remind me to buy him an apartment just for himself in the future. I couldn't tolerate him finding someone like that in his room!"
"No need, I have no intention of going to college," Paul huffs.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" Dad turns toward him.
"I want to spend the rest of my life playing video games!" Paul states, starting to run around me.
"Be thankful you're only ten. See that you get excellent grades in school or I’ll confiscate everything for eternity," Mom tells him, pointing her finger at him.
"Joking aside, Theresa, give her permission. Our daughter knows how to look after herself very well."
After several seconds of silence, she consents, nodding. I wrap her in a lightning-fast hug.
"Thanks, you won't regret it," I say, jumping for joy.
She gives me little taps on the back in a sign of approval.
"Uh, sorry to interrupt, but it’s almost 5:00 PM; we need to move if we don't want to risk not arriving at JFK on time. We’ll find a lot of traffic," Nick murmurs.
"Yes, I’m already late for the meeting," Mom whispers in turn, trying to hold back sobs—a task that proves almost impossible for her.
She approaches and squeezes me once more, while she smells me and kisses my hair repeatedly. Tears fall heavy on my face, wetting the fabric of her blazer.
"I love you, forever. Be careful and give the best of yourself."
"I love you too, Mom. I will."
She steps back a few paces to leave space for Paul. I kneel to take his face in my hands and wipe away the small tears at the corners of his eyes.
"I mean it, don't cause too much trouble while I'm away. See you soon."
"I’ll try. I’ll call you every single night," he says, raising his thin voice.
We shake hands as we always do to seal an important pact.
"Deal."
Mom removes the remains of her smudged makeup with a tissue and immediately after grabs Paul's hand to lead him toward the door. But not before having said goodbye to me one last time. I reciprocate, waving my hand with a tremor. Mom blows me one last kiss and exits slowly. I hear her crying as her footsteps fade away, and this causes a painful clench in my heart.
Nick strokes my back to console me.
"She’ll get over it, now let's go; you wouldn't want to miss your flight," Dad sighs.
We leave the office and shortly after reach the elevator. The doors close in slow motion in front of us. Watching them is a torture, but at the same time I understand I have to accept it. It is the first, true step toward moving forward.
I only have Dad and Nick left to say goodbye to.
It's time to board that plane that will lead me toward a new, unknown adventure.