“Yes, he does that. Regardless of whatever he told you, I think Mr. Carter does care for you. But he’s just fucked up, and you can’t fix that for him.”
“What do you think made him so bitter?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” She leads me into the cafeteria, where we proceed to get a snack and sit down at a quiet table. “What came up in your Google searches?”
“Nothing too much.” I shrug. “Just his biography. Things about soccer, Harvard, his family’s company. Run of the mill stuff.”
“Hmm…” She takes a dainty bite of her cookie and sets it back on the napkin in front of her. “It’s weird that he doesn’t play soccer anymore. There has to be a reason for it, especially if he was supposed to be drafted into the Major Leagues.”
“True.” I dunk my potato chip into a cup of ice cream, and Sybil cringes at the concoction in front of me.
“I don’t know how you can eat that.”
“I don’t know either.” I laugh. “But it sounded good.”
“So this is what you plan to do all winter break?” She stares at me incredulously. “Sit around eating crap like this when you could be picking up hot snowboarders in Aspen with me?”
“I need to figure out my plan for next semester,” I tell her, which is only partly true. While I haven’t stopped thinking about Sebastian’s words and trying to figure out what I really want to do with my life, I also don’t want to impose on Sybil’s family. She swears it wouldn’t be awkward with her dad even though he worked with mine and has been affected by the scandal, but the last thing I want is her family spending another dime on me. I don’t think I’ll ever be rid of the shadow my father cast over our family when he stole that money, and it’s important to me that nobody thinks I’m mooching off them too.
“I already told you what your plan should be.” Sybil wipes off her hands and shrugs. “You love taking photos, and you are so good at it. Why not follow your dream?”
“Because it isn’t realistic,” I answer bitterly. Or at least, that’s what my father always told me.
“How is it not realistic?” She presses. “You can find plenty of jobs as a photographer. Especially with your talent. It might mean accepting a different vision for yourself than the one your family mapped out, but do you really need all the trappings of a fancy life?”
“No,” I admit. “I don’t.”
I never wanted any of those things. That was just my mother’s plan, and I let her talk me into it. But Sybil is right. How much money do I really need to be happy? And just because photography is a risky career, it doesn’t mean I’m any less successful than the next person.
“Well, if you’re so hell-bent on staying behind this winter break, then chew on that while you’re taking photos,” she suggests. “Look into schools and give it some thought.”
“I will,” I assure her.
“And please reconsider coming to spend Christmas with me,” she says. “I can’t stand thinking of you here all alone.”
“I’ll think about it,” I lie.
WITH ONLY A FEW faculty members left behind, an eerie quiet has settled over the campus. Surprisingly, I’m not the only student still here. There are some other stragglers who are either hard-core into their schoolwork, or their families are overseas and the students can’t be bothered to make such a long trip back home. Either way, I use the opportunity to do as Sybil suggested.
When I’m not taking photos, I’m making lists and researching schools and internships. On a whim, I even apply for a couple next semester that might work with my current schedule. And for the first time in a long time, the future looks a lot brighter.
There’s still a crushing weight on my chest whenever I think of Sebastian, and I don’t think that’s going to go away. But at least now I have something else to look forward to. Something I can be proud of.
Still, as the holidays get closer, the isolation threatens to swallow me whole. I wonder what my father is doing. Is he on a beach somewhere enjoying a beer, and does he even think of me at all? To my relief, my mother has honored my request to leave me alone, at least for the interim. If she’s celebrating Christmas with Luis, I’m glad I’m not there to witness it. In fact, I’m glad I’m not with either of my parents.
Christmas with my family was never really Christmas at all. Mom would be drunk, trying to impress whoever showed up, and Dad would be counting down the minutes on his watch until he could escape. This year, I have a choice how I want to spend the holiday, and nobody can tell me otherwise. I don’t have to put on a show or wear a fake smile. I don’t have to pretend to be anything. If I want, I can just sit right here in my pajamas and eat cookies all night long. Which, if I’m being honest, that’s probably what I’ll end up doing. In any case, I still have a few days to figure it out.
As I lay in bed tonight, I count my blessings instead of my fears. And when the door creaks open, I’m only a little surprised to see Sebastian standing there. Somehow, I sensed he would come to me like this. Looking weathered and worn, exhausted and defeated, he shuts the door behind him and meets my gaze.
“Stella.” He breathes my name like it’s the answer to all his troubles, and the frosty wall I’ve built up over the past three weeks is already starting to thaw. How does he do that? How can one man have such a hold over me?
“What are you doing here?” I ask wearily.
“What do you think?” He comes to sit on the bed beside me, and it isn’t fair. Just his presence makes me feel better. His scent comforts me in a way nothing else can, and I hate that he is my ultimate weakness.
He feathers his fingers over my jaw and looks down at me. “Do you need me to say it? Do you need me to tell you that you’ve gotten under my skin? Because I should think that would be obvious by now.”
“It’s not so obvious to me,” I murmur.