The Separation Situation: Sequel to The Renovation Complication

23. A Few Done Deals

Tori

"But I'm eighteen now, surely that must count for something."

Ashley and Alan share a strained look, with Ashley raising her eyebrows at my proposition. How could they not have thought of this before?

Because they still think you're a child.

"Victoria, the house will be on the market." Alan says coldly, and checks his watch. He acts as if this vital conversation is a waste of his oh-so-precious time. I personally think he can stick it, but I'm not about to make that apparent. For once I would like things to go my way.

I've been avoiding this topic since I found out a few days ago, but after the day with the others yesterday, I've decided I need to start confronting a few things. Let's call it a day of confrontation. Confrontation in the Kitchen: A new smash hit with your host, Victoria!

"I know, but you don't have to advertise it for a while," I suggest, though Alan looks doubtful. Ashley tries not to look hopeful. I don't understand how the pair ever got along.

So, here's the plan: I finish high school in a few measly months. That's half a year. Half a year will mean nothing to Mr Aspen over in Washington or a real estate agent. Right? I shudder at the thought of strangers strutting through these halls, gesturing to furniture that is about to disappear and pale (well, paler than the usual pastel) squares where pictures of our messed up family used to be. It's sick! It's sick and it's wrong!

Anyway, I have proposed to the parentals (soon to be ex-parentals) that while Ashley continues in her position at the current bank in Annandale, she stay in the house until it sells. And I stay with her.

Now, it has been made clear that a house like ours won't be on the market for long. Pastel interior, robin egg blue exterior; as I've said before – it's like an American wet Dream. So the tough part will be persuading my father to refrain from trying to erase any traces of the life he barely lived here.

"Why?" Alan rubs the skin between his salt and pepper eyebrows. His brown eyes have never looked more annoyed nor bored. Jerk, that's my future you're messing with.

Ashley stays silent, leaning on the kitchen bench closest to the coffee machine. Occasionally she'll nod along, but usually she just stares at the floor, looking distasteful. I think it's hard for her to be in the same room as my father now.

"Why not?" I avoid his question, "I'm almost finished school, why even bother trying to start up in Washington?"

"You're father has custody, Victoria," Ashley begins quietly, but I cut her off. Sorry, Ash.

"No, I'm eighteen." I've only said it about a thousand times, but they don't seem to get it. The law has nothing to do with it. If I don't want to live with my father, I don't have to. I can stay with Ashley, no matter what her maiden name is; it doesn't matter anymore.

"But your father –"

"My father?" I glare at the supposed man. "My father doesn't care what happens to me. Alan, it won't make a difference for you if I'm here – in fact it will be easier if you just –"

"Fine." Alan nods curtly, straightening and patting down his tie. He moves toward the door before making eye contact with Ashley for what seems to be the first time all morning. "But the day she graduates, the house is gone."

To me, that sounds like a threat.

Once again Ashley stares at the floor, and I see the mug in her hand tremble a little. I don't think it's the caffeine. An engine roars to life from the driveway.