Lit

A simple diamond ring reflected the sunlight that streamed through my windshield, and then I promised myself that I would return to the East Coast as soon as possible. Pretend to get along with half of the extended family, check in with my father, and dip before anyone else I knew recognized me or heard about me being in the area. 

Given that it was the Midwest, nothing much happened around here besides occasional farm accidents and local school events. I was, unfortunately, the only impressive thing to come from this area besides the massive corn harvest and the statewide attention we’d get for our corn mazes. At least, according to some locals. 

Eventually, familiar apple orchards and tall pear trees began to trickle into view, along with a welcome sign to the town I went to school in. 

West Rand. 

The town had a population just over eight hundred, and besides a school all it had was a gas station and two restaurants. But given how big the school district was and the town itself, you wouldn’t be able to enjoy your meal without half of the other customers recognizing you and wanting to talk to you the whole night. 

Just off the main road on the Northern side of West Rand, a park by the high school was flooded with people. What I remembered being a simple green field dotted with wooden picnic tables with an old basketball court on one end had cars lining the streets and people gathered in the center. Small children chased each other or tossed baseballs back and forth, while the adults laughed over colorful drinks in their hands.

There could’ve been over a hundred people, but I immediately eyed the two groups that made up my branch of the family.

One half that hated my mother. 

Another half that loved her. 

I parked my car, and before I hopped out, I pulled off the diamond ring and stuffed it into my pocket. When I walked out of the shade and into the open space, I regretted wearing jeans in the late July heat. 

Approaching the crowd, I strategically entered it on a side where my immediate family couldn’t see me so I could get to the tables stacked with food. One peculiar table had various juices, beers, and liquor. Before anyone could see the nineteen-year-old grabbing the Tito’s, I had a blueberry vodka lemonade in my hand. I happily sipped it, the alcohol creating a pleasant burn in my belly.

When I turned around, I was abruptly face-to-face with one of my younger cousins. 

“Hey, Ellis!” Sandra exclaimed, a girl who was only three years my junior. “How’s MIT treatin’ ya?”

For a moment, I was almost taken aback by her accent. I’ve only been gone for two years, but I suppose the Boston accent grew on me quickly. 

At the mention of the prestigious school and my name, several heads turned our way and eyes lit up when beyond the plain brown hair and blue eyes, they saw the studious girl that managed to fight her way into the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. 

“Oh my gosh, Eleanora!” 

“You’ve gotten so big! I haven’t seen you since you were a baby!”

“It’s been, what, four years? Five? How have you been?”

In my head, I cursed out Sandra for dragging me into the spotlight. 

I answered their questions as quickly as I could, praying that nobody could smell the alcohol that tainted my breath. But as the excitement spread to the circumference of the crowd, I saw my father’s face break through with an expression that could only be described as sudden shock. 

“Ellis?”

Instinctively, our family members broke apart to create a path for him, and there was a moment when neither of us knew what to say. A small smile cracked onto his face, but his blue eyes remained dulled from exhaustion, stress, and emotional weight. 

“Hey, Dad.” 

I pulled him in for a hug, and he reciprocated by holding me tightly. Although our embrace was silent, I could already hear everything that he wanted to say. 

“Davis,” My Aunt Tara interrupted us, her thick eyeliner always giving the impression that she was pissed off about something. “May I talk to her for a moment?”

I briefly glared at her before separating from Dad, crossing my arms and saying, “Fine.”

She led me from the crowd and towards one of the trees in the park, far enough from the children that nobody would disturb us. I kept my gaze focused on my drink, taking frequent sips from it before she would get bored enough to ask what it was. 

“So,” She began. “You’re going to MIT for Aerospace Engineering, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, good,” She pulled out a pack of Pall Malls and placed one at her lips, cupping the end with her hand as she lit it. “You’ll get far in life with a job like that, it’s a good choice. Me and Uncle Lukas are proud of you.” 

I wanted to scowl. 

“Thanks.” I managed to say without altering my tone. 

I tried to give the impression that I was uninterested, but I could feel her gaze travel down my face to my exposed arms. They lingered on my biceps, and I saw a flash of disgust in her gaze. I instinctively used my free hand to cover an arm, each thick, rough stripe brushing my fingertips.

“Say,” I felt my stomach twist. “Has your father mentioned anything about Gran’s jewelry?”

Gran was my maternal grandmother. 

“No. Why?”

Her brow rose as if to say that her intentions were obvious. I prayed that they weren’t. “Well, I don’t see why he needs to hold onto it. Lukas now technically owns those heirlooms.”

My chest clenched, my mind suddenly tracing farther back in my memory than I would’ve liked. I forced my mind to blank.

“According to the will, they are in my possession now. And I choose to let my father keep them in the meantime.” I argued, though half of that was deceiving. 

“The jewelry was intended to be passed down to the patriarch and matriarch of the Yvetteshiem family.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation now.” I snapped, taking a long sip of my lemonade but not feeling any of the tension in my body melt away.

I saw Tara pause, choosing her words carefully. 

“Your mother had no right-“

“The jewelry was hers. She had every right to give it to me.”

My chest ached, my throat constricting as if someone was gripping my windpipe. 

“It belongs to the family.” She countered.

“Then it has no reason to go to you in the first place because it isn’t yours. I’m done with this conversation.”

I slammed the rest of my drink as I stormed off, Tara stumbling upon her words as she tried to piece together an argument to no avail. My eyes stung and I tried to avoid any attention from the rest of the family as I quickly poured myself another spiked lemonade. Unfortunately, word of the MIT student being at the reunion had spread fast enough that a dozen people were approaching me all at-

The first tear hit my cheek. 

“God-fucking-dammit.” I grumbled, shoving between bodies to get to my car. At the same time, my mind also slipped into the dark corner I wanted to forget.

Not now. Please not now.

I felt like I was putting in a futile effort to escape a steep, slippery spiral. I furiously dug into my pockets for my car keys, feeling everything gather in the back of my throat and threaten to spill out but I had no idea how to-

“Ellis! Ellis!”

When Dad saw my face, his body went weak and his eyes softened. He was visibly hurt, and it only made me want to- God, I didn’t even know what I wanted to do. All I knew was that my throat felt full, but my tongue was incapable of forming the proper words.

“Honey, are you okay?” He asked, eyeing the cup in my hand. 

Shit.

“I-” Something in me broke down, like a dam collapsing on itself. 

Dad held me again, this time tenderly and slowly swaying us back and forth. My foot felt wet, and I realized I had spilled blue liquor all over my white converses. I gripped the back of his shirt so tightly I swear I could feel my nails digging into my palms through the fabric. Without restraint, I sniffled and bawled into his shirt, trying to muffle the sound by burying my face into his shoulder. I felt like a stupid little kid.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I nodded against his chest, my cheap makeup and tears staining his shirt. 

We both went silent, and for a moment I could feel our pain connect, as if we had said to each other, I’m here for you.

“I miss Mom.” 

Something covering up that deep hole in my chest was ripped away, revealing the raw wound.

“Oh, Honey.” He held me tighter, just like how he would when I was a little girl. Just like how he did the night he found out about my inflictions. 

It’s been too long. 

It’s only been three years, but it felt like my heart had been slowly ripped apart for so much longer.

I could never forget the image of her body when I found it. 

“I want her back, Dad.”

“I know.”

“I knew she was hurting, and I didn’t do anything.”

“You were too young to know what to do. It’s okay.”

“I could’ve done anything. I should’ve been nicer to her, I should’ve spent more time with her, I should’ve been better-“

“Don’t,” His voice cut through like a blade. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for it. You hear me? Dear God Ellis, please don’t blame yourself for it.” 

Like a flood, more of my wounds were freshly bled. All those nights I cradled myself, trying to release everything pent up in me in the only way I knew how. It hurt, it fucking hurt, but in those moments, I suddenly understood what it was like to be her. And I would hurt again, and again, and again, because I would feel shitty and then I understood and I felt horrible so I’d hurt myself but then I would feel shitty but I understood and it was my fault and then I would-

“Eleanora.” Just him saying my name rattled through me, and everything in my head was reduced to utter silence. “She would never want you to feel responsible for it. I know it’s hard to not feel that way, but I promise you she only ever wanted you to be happy.”

My breath was ragged and broken, and he could feel my back shake as I fought to breathe steady.

“Allow yourself to heal, Eleanora.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Look at me,” He held my shoulders, looking right into eyes that were just like Mom’s. Pacific blue. “Your mother would be so proud of you. You’re kind, you’re smart, you’re independent. And for God’s sake, you’re going to MIT for college. Do you have any idea how excited she would be? What kind of pride she would have as your mother?”

The tiniest smile made it onto my face, and a small, precious warmth blossomed in my chest and filled some of the gap.

“She would be so, so proud of you.” I realized then that he had been crying too. He lifted the collar of his shirt to wipe his eyes. “I will help you however I can. If you need to go back to college as soon as possible, I can book you a flight and get you back to Cambridge tonight. If you need to stay in Iowa for a while, you can come home. I’ll do whatever I can, okay? All you have to do is ask.”

“Okay.” 

That one word slid off my tongue so easily, it felt like easing a hundred pounds off my chest. It wasn’t all the weight, but it was just enough to make it easier to speak, to function, to breathe.

“And I’ll do the same for you too, okay?”

“Hm?” He asked, letting me go so he would wipe the rest of the tears from his face. 

“I won’t let you deal with it alone either, Dad. We can figure it out together.”

For the first time in four years, I saw a real, genuine smile on his face that reached his eyes. Sunlight reflected through his irises, and I could see the beautiful Atlantic blue. The grief was still there, but it was as if someone had pulled aside the drapes in a dark, dusty room to let the light in.

He sniffled, and then spread his fingers on his right hand to look at the thick, silver band on his ring finger.

I dug into my pocket and withdrew the diamond ring. 

His face lit up at the sight of it, and I slid it on my hand.