Danika
Overthecourseofthe next forty-eight hours, I leave my bedroom a total of four times. It’s lucky that I have a bathroom attached to my room or it would have been double that. The only times I left were to grab something to eat and a drink before going right back upstairs. I always waited until I knew both of my parents were either out of the house or in their room before I made any moves and I was working out pretty well, until it wasn’t.
“Danika.” My mother is waiting for me outside my bedroom door when I go to grab a snack from the fridge.
“Mother.”
I go to move around her but she blocks my path again. “We need to talk.” She sounds serious and that’s the only reason I agree. I hate feeling like a spoiled brat but I can’t stand to spend another day in this house, least of all this day.
I’m holding out hope that my mother is just putting on a show to lure me downstairs because she has a gift for me. Today being my birthday and all.
Margot remembered. She texted me one hundred heart emojis at seven this morning. Sydney, too, sent her birthday wishes way too early in the day. Usually I relish my birthday, making it a big deal for everyone in attendance but this year, my workload and my fake dating-load overtook anything else and I didn’t get a chance to plan anything.
I had texted the girls back in our group chat, thanking them and promising to plan a get together soon to celebrate.
When I had checked my phone throughout the day, I had multiple birthday texts from various friends from college and beyond. Gemma sent me a virtual coffee gift card and promised to get wine drunk with me when we returned to school.
One message was noticeably absent, however. Not a single message from Arden. I know we technically aren’t speaking but fights are secondary to birthdays, everyone knows that.
I follow my mom downstairs, expecting a cake or at the very least, a card but instead I’m greeted with my father sitting at the dining room table. There’s a half-eaten pizza in front of him that my mom offers to me but I ignore her.
“Sit,” Kevin says, his eyes boring into mine.
I stare at him for a few long moments, not even blinking. This is what I’m getting as a birthday gift from my parents? A lecture? A scolding? I’m twenty-two years old. There is no fucking way.
“No.”
“Danika, please.” My mom sounds so sad but I can’t bring myself to do anything this man wants. Not even for her. Not anymore.
“No, Mom. I’m not going to sit down and have the two of you scold me like I’m a child. Because, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a child.”
“Could’ve fooled me, Danika, the way you act. Sit down now.”
“Hey, Dad.” I lean my forearms on the top of the chair across from him. “Do you know what day it is?” Kevin looks over at Lara, who visibly thinks for a moment before gasping quietly. “That’s right. It’s my fucking birthday and it would’ve been nice if either of my parents acknowledged that but no, instead, I’m being told to sit quietly in a chair and take the ass-whopping I deserve.”
My mother says my name at the same time my father says, “I’ll give you a fucking ass whopping.” Kevin stands and I take two steps back on instinct. He walks around the table and comes nose to nose with me. I don’t want to cower. God, do I not want to cower but I’m afraid. I’m afraid that I’ve pushed him too far this time.
“If you can’t show me an ounce of respect, why the hell would I pay for you to do anything.”
I clench my teeth, wanting to fight back, wanting to show him I can’t be bullied, but I’m too afraid. “Sit your ass down, Danika, or you can kiss that school of yours goodbye.”
I look around him at my mom for help, for anything really, but she’s looking down at her hands like they’re the most interesting things on the planet right now.
I take two very very deep breaths before I say the final thing I have to say.
“There is absolutely nothing that I want from you. From this moment on, you have no daughter.”
My mom lets out a cry and my father’s face turns an ugly shade of red.
“Get the hell out of my house.”
“Gladly.”
Without a second glance, I turn on my heels and run up to my room. There’s no way I’m leaving my stuff here so I quickly pack my suitcase with everything I brought and anything else in my childhood home that I might want to keep and then I head back downstairs.
My mom is waiting at the end of the staircase, tears pouring down her face. “Danika, please.”
I don’t acknowledge her as I walk past her and out the door. I really hope it’s not for the last time but at this point, I don’t think there’s ever going to be a chance we come back from this. Not unless there are some very big changes that are made.