She's Beautiful And Mine (gxg)

Chapter Twenty Eight: We're Leaving.

Samantha

It's been a month since Harley and I started dating.

I'd developed a whole new group of friends, namely: Wyatt, Axelle, Brandon and a whole bunch of other cooler people, whom we sit with at lunch, unless of course, Harley and I had other plans like bunking and going out to the lake where we'd make out for hours on end.

My parents were blissfully unaware of the fact that I've had the liberating experience of having a girlfriend for the first time and I'd decided to keep my thoughts about coming out and everything else locked away in peaceful ignorance of my own issues.

Life felt seemingly perfect that way.

I was waiting for my mom and dad to settle into the couch across from me. It was a Friday night and, contrary to the norm, they were actually in the country and at home; not slaving away for hours at their laptops, obsessing over work and money like they always are.

They looked tired, the both of them. Like they hadn't slept all night. They were sharply dressed in delicate, expensive brands but beneath all the usual glamour, I saw their exhaustion. I realized that it'd been this way with them ever since. . . she died.

They'd said that they wanted to talk to me about something important. I wondered in the back of mind whether they knew about Harley. Or if it was about her. If so, what could it be?

What would even give them the right to talk about her anyway, after all? After everything.

"How's school?" asked Mom.

"Going well. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just. . . school stuff."

"Good, good. That's very good. Um. . ." She fumbled with the hem of her gold dress, her skin pale. I noticed that her fingers were slightly trembling and so was her voice. I realized that she might have been crying. I was taken aback by how frail she sounded, which is very unlike the strong-minded, intimidating business woman she's known to be.

Apprehension started filling up the back of my mind.

Spit it out already! Is this about my girlfriend? Or my dead sister? Or something completely different?

My dad glanced at her for a brief moment before reluctantly looking back at me.

"We're going to New York this weekend. Together."

Silence.

Deafening, terrible silence.

"I'm sorry. What?" I said icily, trying my best to stay calm.

"I said, we're going to-"

"No, I heard you," I said, my voice rising steadily and uncontrollably. I got up and stared down at him. At the both of them. My mom refused to look at me.

"What the hell do you mean we're going to New York?"

"We. . . think it's time we saw Paris."

Paris.

The name hit a spot deep inside of me, hurting me like no other.

Silence, yet again.

"What makes you think you have the right?" I said quietly.

"We're her parents, for God's sakes," he said, trying his best to not show his annoyance. "We want to make things right. See that. . . that girl, Ashley, and visit the grave. Ask for her forgiveness."

"Forgiveness?" I scoffed loudly.

"For not going to her when she called us," he said more forcefully, cutting the tension in the air with his deep, loud voice.