I hate when she plays mind games. “Are you referring to my mother? Because I told you last time that I was over that.”
“Ella, you’re not over it,” she says. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have said that.”
I prop my elbow on the arm of the chair and rest my chin in my hand. “Then what does this good-bye thing have to do with?”
“It has to do with you.” She takes a mint out of a tin and puts it in her mouth. “And you struggle to say good-bye to things: your guilt over your mother and your father, your pain, your feelings. You have such a hard time letting go of your past.”
“I know that,” I admit. “But I’m working on it.”
She pauses, tapping her fingers on the desk. “Tell me this: Where do you see yourself in a year or two?”
“I don’t know… I haven’t really thought about it that much.”
“Try to think about it for a minute, if you can.”
I raise my chin from my hand and search my brain, but all I can see is Micha and me out on that damn bridge as he falls into the water.
“I don’t know.” I grip the armrests of the chair as my pulse accelerates. “I really don’t… Holy shit.”
“Relax, Ella, everything’s going to be fine.” She opens the desk drawer and takes out another folder. “I think we might want to start considering doing an evaluation for anxiety and depression.”
My eyes narrow at her. “No way.”
“Ella, I think it’s important that—”
I shove up from the chair and swing my bag over my shoulder. “I’m not talking about this.”
She says something else, but I’m already out the door. I will not discuss having a mental illness. I’m not sick. I’m not.
Burying the conversation, I turn on my phone and read the text Dean sent me. “Dad left rehab Call me now…” What? I punch in his speed-dial number as I walk outside into the sunlight and put the phone to my ear.
“Why the hell did you turn off your phone?” he snaps.
“I told you. I was in a meeting.” I head across the quad, zigzagging in between people and ducking under a Frisbee flying through the air.
“Well, you need to get back home,” he orders. “Dad bailed and no one can find him.”
“I’ll call Micha’s mom and see if she can find out where he is. If he’s at home.” I start to hang up.
“I already got ahold of her.” He sounds aggravated. “And she’s on a vacation with some guy she’s dating.”
“Oh…” I didn’t even know his mom was dating someone. “Then what do we do?”
“You drive up there and check on him,” he says like it’s my obligation.
“Why can’t you do it?”
“Because I have work and a wedding to plan—a life.”
“I have a life,” I argue, reaching the border of the grass. “And we can always call someone else. We can call Denny.”
“You call Denny then,” he says, and I hear Caroline’s voice in the background. “Look, I have to go, okay? Call Denny and let me know what’s going on as soon as you do.” He hangs up on me.
Frustrated, I dial information and get the number for Denny’s bar. By the time I call, I’m trotting up the stairs to Lila’s and my two-bedroom apartment.
Someone picks up after four rings. “Hello, Hub and Grub, this is Denny.”
“Umm… yeah, this is Ella. Ella Daniels. I was just wondering if my dad was there or if you’d seen him.”
“Yeah, he showed up here this morning.” He hesitates. “I thought he was in rehab.”
“Apparently he checked himself out.” I take the house keys out of my bag and unlock the door. “How bad is he?”
“I’m going to be honest with you, Ella. He’s pretty bad,” he says bluntly. “He showed up here this morning and he’s been drinking ever since. Nonstop. I offered him a ride home, but he refused.”
I close the door and toss the keys on the counter. “Can you keep an eye on him for a little bit until I can figure out what to do with him?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he says with reluctance. “Look, Ella, I understand your situation, but I got a bar to run and… well, when he gets this way he causes a lot of problems. I don’t mind helping, just as long as it’s not bad for my business.”
“I’ll get down there as soon as I can,” I promise. “And I’m really sorry about this.”
He sighs. “It’s okay. I know it’s hard for you. I mean, you’re just a kid.”
I was never a kid. Not really. I was doing the dishes and cleaning the house at six, cooking my own food at eight, and making sure my mom took her medications by the age of ten.
I say good-bye and hang up, sinking down onto the suede couch. The apartment is small, with white walls and tan carpet and a TV in the corner. There is a narrow dining area between the kitchen and the living room. The place smells like cinnamon and the kitchen sink is overflowing with dishes.
I press my fingers to the sides of my nose. “Shit… Who am I supposed to call?” I let my hand fall to my lap and call Ethan.
He answers after three rings. “Okay, so this is kind of weird. You never call me.”
“I have a favor to ask you.” I pause, working up the courage. “Can you go pick up my dad from the Hub and Grub and stay with him until I can get there?”
He’s silent for a second. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Thank you,” I say, grateful. “I’ll head up as soon as I can. I promise. Twelve hours at the max.”
“Don’t kill yourself getting up here, Ella. I said it was fine, so come when you can.”
“Okay. I’ll call you when I’m on the road.”
She rubs her lips together, thinking heavily about something. “Why not? You have before.”
“Only because I was wasted and I tend to get a little chatty when I’m like that.” I can’t talk to Naomi about what’s going on in my head because I owe it to Ella to tell her first. “I basically talk to anyone when I’m drunk.”
“Don’t pretend like you hate talking to me, Micha,” she says. “I know you like to. You’re just too blinded by your own feelings.”
I’m lost. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Suddenly, she is leaning toward me with her eyes closed and her lips out, throwing me off guard as she tries to kiss me. Pieces of her hair fall in front of her face, and for a second, I’m motionless as I think about letting her kiss me—letting her take my mind off shit.