Chapter 14 - Rachel Had Stayed Quiet Because Silence Helped Her Too
Vanessa came to my apartment three months later.
She brought coffee.
No crown.
No ring.
Progress.
We sat at the kitchen table.
“Why did you leave pageants?”
she asked.
“Career changed.”
“Rachel.”
I smiled slightly.
“Still annoying.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the window.
“Because of your mother.”
Vanessa stopped.
“What?”
“Not entirely.”
“Explain.”
After Celeste left, I stayed through that season.
Grant treated me normally.
Too normally.
He never mentioned the bus station.
Never accused me.
Never thanked me for silence.
I became terrified that every job assignment was a test.
Then one day he offered me a permanent position with the circuit.
Vanessa stared.
“You never told me.”
“No.”
“Did you take it?”
“For three months.”
Her mouth opened.
“You worked for him.”
“Yes.”
“After driving my mother away from him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I needed money.”
“And?”
I looked down.
“I liked being trusted.”
That was the worse part.
Grant called me dependable.
Professional.
Different from emotional people.
I had spent years judging Vanessa for wanting his approval.
Then accepted my own version because it came without a crown.
“What happened?”
“I saw him do to another contestant what he'd done to you.”
“What?”
“Nothing criminal.”
Important.
A nineteen-year-old girl wanted to miss an appearance because her father was hospitalized.
Grant told her sponsors would remember.
She cried.
He said:
“Mission first. Feelings after.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“He loved that sentence.”
“Yes.”
“She went?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
Vanessa looked at me.
“Then?”
“I quit two weeks later.”
“Did you tell him why?”
“No.”
“Did you tell the girl?”
“No.”
“So you left.”
“Yes.”
“Like Celeste.”
I stared.
Vanessa's voice wasn't accusing.
Just accurate.
“I told myself quitting meant I wasn't part of it.”
“But you didn't correct anything.”
“No.”
“Did Grant keep using missions?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever call me?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“Maybe a year later.”
“I don't remember.”
“You didn't answer.”
“Did you leave a message?”
“No.”
She laughed.
“Of course.”
I did too.
It wasn't funny.
It was us.
“What did you want to say?”
“That I was sorry.”
“For helping Mom leave?”
“No.”
“For letting you think I only saw her.”
Vanessa looked toward the coffee.
“Would I have listened?”
“No.”
“That doesn't make not saying it right.”
“I know.”
She nodded.
Then:
“I hated you because Celeste liked you.”
I looked at her.
“She did.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“You didn't need anything from her.”
That hurt.
Celeste could be relaxed around me because I wasn't her daughter.
I got the version of her that didn't have history attached.
Vanessa continued:
“And you got to hate Grant without needing him.”
“I needed him for a while.”
“Not like I did.”
“No.”
“Then Lily.”
She looked down.
“I kept telling myself I wasn't like him because I loved her.”
I didn't respond.
“He loved me too.”
“Yes.”
That was the part simplistic stories hate.
Grant was controlling.
Manipulative.
Status-obsessed.
He also sat beside Vanessa through pneumonia when she was twelve.
Drove ten hours overnight after a college accident.
Learned every choreography cue because she asked.
Love did not clean the behavior.
The behavior did not prove there was no love.
Vanessa said:
“Celeste wants me to call him.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“She doesn't.”
“What?”
“She asked whether I planned to.”
“Different.”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“No.”
“Do you mean forever?”
“I don't know.”
I almost smiled.
She saw it.
“Don't.”
“Sorry.”
“Liar.”
“Yes.”
Then Vanessa said:
“Grant's foundation pulled out of next year's Heritage program.”
“His choice?”
“Mostly.”
“Pageant ask him to?”
“They told him sponsor access would be limited while the incident was still under review.”
Grounded.
No empire collapsing.
“He got offended.”
“Shocking.”
“He told me Rachel Hayes destroyed the family.”
I laughed.
“Finally, recognition.”
Vanessa laughed too.
Then became serious.
“I told him you didn't.”
My smile disappeared.
“What did you say?”
“That we did plenty ourselves.”
I looked at her.
“That sounds dangerously reflective.”
“Therapy.”
“You?”
“Apparently.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Owen insisted before we revisit the parenting schedule.”
There was no custody war.
Vanessa still saw Lily regularly.
Overnights had returned slowly.
Pageants had not.
“What does Lily want to do instead?”
“Musical theater.”
I laughed.
“Same costumes. Worse parents.”
“Exactly.”
“She auditioning?”
“Saturday.”
“Does she want to?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
Vanessa glared.
“I asked six times.”
“Six is pressure.”
She stopped.
“Damn it.”
I smiled.
“Ask once.”
“I’m learning.”
Before leaving, Vanessa took something from her purse.
Celeste's ring.
She placed it on my table.
“What are you doing?”
“I don't know what to do with it.”
“Why is that my problem?”
“I hate you.”
“Established.”
She picked it up again.
Good.
“What does Celeste want?”
“She said it's mine.”
“Do you want it?”
“I don't know.”
“Then keep not knowing.”
Vanessa stared at the ring.
May you like
Then put it back into her purse.
No one had to turn an old object into a decision before leaving the room.
