In Harmony(95)
My mother broke out of her reverie and roused herself, tightening the silk belt on her robe as she stood. Like a hostess at the world’s worst party, she led the officers to the foyer. “Thank you so much for coming.”
I sat on the floor at my father’s feet, my hair falling all around me, tears drying on my cheeks.
“He’s leaving town?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“With his father in the hospital?”
“Because he’s in the hospital,” I said to the carpet. “Isaac needs to go make money to help his father. Now more than ever.”
“Make money acting?” My dad spat the word as if it were garbage in his mouth. “Him and ten million others? It’s just that easy?”
“You could help him,” I said, raising my head.
“Why would I do that?”
“For me.”
“After both you and he disrespected me and my authority for God knows how long? Give me one reason I should.”
I gave him the worst possible reason. The one thing I thought would soften my father’s heart and save Isaac and me. Instead, I ruined us in three words:
“I love him.”
My mother had returned from the foyer. She froze at my words, then gripped the back of the chair. Her eyes fell shut as her mouth closed with a click of her teeth.
The color drained from my father’s face as the realization unfolded. This wasn’t just sex anymore. Not a casual fling with the local bad boy. A reckless affair that would end with the season. This was love. This was the future. Isaac, a continued presence in my life and Dad having to tolerate someone he found unworthy of the Holloway name.
“No you do not,” he said, pronouncing every word. “The last nine months, I’ve watched you throw your life away. Throw away your chance at a decent college when you were on your way to the Ivy League. I will not stand by and watch you ruin the rest of your future with that lowlife.”
“Dad, stop,” I cried, my heart breaking in my chest.
“This nonsense ends tonight. You are not to see him again. Ever again.” He gave a rough exhale, running a hand through his thinning hair, satisfied. “I was disheartened earlier, Regina, but now I’m glad for the relocation. Given the circumstances, I think it’s just what we need.”
“What relocation?” I said.
“We’re moving. Mr. Wilkinson needs me to run our Canadian operation. We’re moving to Edmonton at the beginning of June.”
I sniffed. Then a laugh burst out of me. “Canada?” I laughed again. “No.”
“Yes.”
My laughter dissolved into fresh sobs. “No. We’re not moving again. I can’t…”
“You can and you will.”
“I won’t,” I said, staggering to my feet. “I’ll stay here. I can live with Angie until I turn eighteen. I’m not going.”
“You are. And that’ll be the last you see of Isaac.”
“You can’t do this. You can’t stop me. When I’m eighteen—”
Dad gripped me by both shoulders. “I’m your goddamn father and I have the final word. You’re done with him. If I hear that you so much as text him, I’ll have him arrested for statutory rape and I’ll let the entire world know it. Hollywood has zero tolerance for sexual predators these days. Whatever chance you think he has at a career will be demolished. I’ll use every resource at my disposal, every press contact, every string I can pull…”
…pour poison in their ears…
“When I’m done, he won’t be able to get a job in a Los Angeles McDonald’s, never mind a movie.”
“Why?” I cried in a croaking whisper. “Why would you do that to him? To me?”
To my shock, my dad’s eyes filled with tears and his grip on my shoulders softened. “Because I love you,” he said.
I shook my head. “You don’t…”
“Willow, listen to me. I know his type. I’ve seen it before. I am sparing you a lifetime of pain. Alcoholism is genetic. It’s only a matter of time before failure will drag Isaac down, and he’ll drag you down with him.” He sniffed and hardened his voice. “And I’ll be goddamned if I stand by and let that happen. It’s for your own good. I have experience. I can see the big picture. You can’t, because you’re a seventeen-year-old girl who thinks she’s in love.”
He let go of my shoulders, dismissing me and everything I felt or wanted, as easily as blowing out a candle.
“What about the play?” I managed to say. “I wanted…one show.”
He shook his head. “Not with him in it.”
“Just one show?” I said. “Please? Then he…he’ll go and that will be…the end. And we’re moving.” A sob hiccupped out of me. “Dad, I promise, I’ll… be better.”
Mom finally spoke up, her voice a thread. “Dan, let her have one show. She’s worked so hard. For months.”
My father’s jaw shifted back and forth again. The anger was draining out of him, the intensity of the night giving way to exhaustion. And perhaps, pity.
“Opening night,” my father said. “You have opening night and no more. The next two days, you go to school and you come home. You go nowhere else.”