The next morning, I found that Smokey's licking had been unpleasantly persistent and I really didn't want to leave the comfortable warmth of my bed.
"Smokey?!" I moaned, putting my foot down and forcing myself up. The hangover that I got felt like someone was poking their fingers behind my eyes, but it was not so much the thump in the head that made me wince, but the way I felt all over. I vaguely remember getting drunk and climbing into bed, but toasting with tequila or what not was certainly not in my agenda.
Smokey-the Shih Tzu which belonged to Uncle Charles once-moved his tail as if he was not aware of my barely suppressed tantrum. Uncle Charles died a long time ago, so Dad took Smokey in. The dog, however, always seemed to know when I was down, but at the moment I needed My Silence, not his support.
Before I could creep back under my duvet, my room door opened abruptly.
"What's the matter with your head?" Zac, my youngest brother, leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. His tone wasn't really empathetic.
I shot him a harsh look. "Why bother?"
He entered my room despite that, walked up to my bed, and sat there. "Who dropped you home last night? Was it Luna and the others?"
I was caught without the air to respond. My memories were like blurred pictures-laughings, the burning of tequila, and the flashing lights of Aunt Angelica's place.
"Were they?" I cautiously replied.
Zac hooked an eyebrow at me and said, "No. They get in touch with Zy. He is the one who took you home."
My throat tightened. "Zyron?"
He acts as if it is something very usual and he is barely bothered by it. "Yeah. He didn't just take you home, he took you to the room. You were asleep, sis. Completely out of it."
I covered my face with my hands. Surely, Zyron must have seen me like that. My closest friend… my childhood friend… the one who had always been there. I felt ashamed at once.
"Anyway," Zac went off and cleaned the dust from his shorts with his hands. "Dad wants to talk to you now, at least."
I groaned and fell back onto my pillows. "Right now as in the present moment?"
"You got it. He's not your fan, sis." He shrugged and rolled his eyes. "And hey, Xavier is not even here to lend you a hand this time."
That comment had one of my pillows being thrown at him. "Out, Zac, go."
He who just dodged the pillow with a grin and left back with a self-satisfied smile only laughed.
Hearty and slow, with my heart pattering fast inside my ribs, I sat up. If Dad really had a talk with him on his mind, then that meant he was mad. And when he used my full name it usually meant that I was in for it.
I dragged myself out of bed, replaced the top with something decent and walked down to the living room. The feeling in my knees was that of jelly as I took every step.
---
Dad was at the head of the dining table, reading his newspaper, sipping coffee that he probably did not enjoy as his brow was deeply furrowed. Momma sat next to him, quietly sipping from her cup while Zac lounged comfortably on her other side.
I walked up cautiously to her. "Good morning, Momma." I kissed her cheek then went to Dad. "Good morning, Dad."
I tried to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned with a hard expression."
My smile wavered. "What is the best thing that happened this morning, Trixy?" Father's voice was sharp.
I tried to make a joke. "It's a nice day, Dad?"
He dropped the paper with a loud bang that reverberated like a gavel in the silent room. "Don't mock me, Trixy." His voice was so strong that I felt he hit me.
"Come here," Momma said quietly, pointing to the chair near her.
I did as I was told, hiding my folded hands behind my thighs.
Dad came closer. "Do you know what time you got home last night?"
"Uhm... nine?" I said, uncertain but still willing to share the information.
He stared accusingly. "Eleven. You got home at eleven, totally drunk. If it weren't for Zyron, who brought you here, I don't want to think about what could have happened."
"Love, take it easy," Momma whispered, putting his arm.
"How can I do that, Mae?" Dad's voice became louder. "Our daughter was drunk in public! She's lucky that nothing worse happened. What if she—" He stopped saying it, shaking his head as if the thought alone was too much. His gaze returned to me. "Give me the reason. Why were you drinking?"
I took a deep breath. No sound was heard and my chest felt constricted.
"Answer me truthfully, Trixy Stacey Catarina Austen."
My entire being froze. He mentioned my full name. There was no way out now.
Tears gathered in my eyes when I finally spoke in a whisper, "Jonas and I... broke up."
Dad's face went even darker. "What?"
I tightened my fists. "He… he—"
"What, Trixy? Tell me! "
"He just used me," I said with a sob and my voice broke. "He only did the Scarlett thing by getting back with me." The tears I had been holding back flowed freely now, hot streaks running down my cheeks.
Without hesitation, Momma's arms engulfed me, pressing me against her tightly. "It's alright, sweetheart. It's alright," she repeated, running her fingers all over my back.
But Dad was still not calm. His face went from red to fire with anger. "That son of a bitch!" He hit the table with his fist, the cutlery shook from the thunder of the blow. "I was the one who gave that boy the benefit of the doubt. I believed in him. And he has the guts to do this? I tell you, Mae, I will—"
"Love," Momma tried to calm him again but he kept talking.
"I shall never forgive him for this. He disgraced my daughter!" Dad's voice was like thunder. "He'll regret it very much one day he crossed this family."
"Dad, please..." I said softly but he was already pushing his chair back, getting up and visibly angry.
"Finish your food," he said. "We are going somewhere after this."
"Where?" I asked shyly.
"I was cool with that guy," Dad remarked with a sigh. "But he didn't take advantage of it. Now he will have to face me."
And with that, he left the dining room angrily.
I suddenly lost my appetite. I looked at my untouched breakfast with my hands shaking and said in a low voice, "I do not feel like eating." I got up from my seat.
"Trixy—" Momma called softly but I shook my head and left.
In my upstairs room, I shut the door and pushed it with my back.
The pain was inside my chest as if it were a knife stabbing it.
I returned to my desk and with my phone locked, I took it out and unlocked it.
It was Jonas smiling at me from the wallpaper of the phone—the two of us, fastened in a moment, looking happy, looking at love.
I didn't make a sound I don't know what I did.
I fell into my chair, sobbing, and holding the phone with both my hands.
I really loved you, Jonas. I loved you to death.
Why weren't I enough, then?
I gave you my all. I fought for us. I believed in you.
Yet, you went on and picked her.
My tears were so heavy that I couldn't see clear.
My fingers were shaking as I were touching over the picture of his face on the screen.
I felt as if I were ten times smaller than the tiniest thing I have ever come across. As if I were something that could be thrown away without anyone noticing.
The noise of someone knocking on my door was so unexpected that for a second I didn't hear it properly. Tok. Tok.
"Trixy? I am here, darling," Momma's voice from the other side took me out of my thoughts.
In a hurry, I wiped my tears from my face using the back of my hand. "Come in, Momma."
She came in with her soft concerned face shining through. She reached out to me, took my hand, and with her gentle nature, brought me to the bed. We were sitting close, her calmness surrounding me and giving me strength.
"I know that you are not fine," she said.
This time, the tears were harsher. I confided in her, "It hurts a lot, Momma. I loved him but he made me suffer. Why? Why wasn't I enough?"
Momma's hand was gentle on my head, her voice calm. "Dear child... I was through the same agony once. I loved someone who didn't love me back. And it was almost my downfall. However, do you know what I found out?"
I shook my head, wiped my runny nose, and mumbled: "No."
"It was not love. True love doesn't use you, nor does it get rid of you. Jonas unveiled the truth of his nature to you—and that is not the one for whom you deserve. The day you will find someone who will love you as much as you deserve, the day which he will never let you doubt yourself is the day you will have the right one."
Still, the pain in my chest remained, and so I said: "I really don't know if I can ever get over him, Momma."
"You will," she asserted, kissing the top of my head. "It won't be immediate. But you will."
She was hugging me warmly and this was the first time since the previous night when I allowed myself to think that maybe not only the pain would not last forever but it would not be so hard either.