They don't care

As soon as I am here and she is standing in front of me, I notice that I am building my self-protection wall around me again.

With Grace and Dex it is as easy for me to be like the Ana I used to be, but one look into my mum's eyes is enough and I close again ...

"Your dad is very happy that you decided to come." She walks next to me as we go to the car.

"Hmm." I nod vaguely.

"We have all your things brought from the apartment to the guest room." She concentrates on the traffic and I look at her from the side.

I should have stayed in Dublin ...

This Christmas will be a catastrophe, I can already feel it.

It is early evening when we drive up the driveway to my parents' house. I haven't been here in a long time and I confess I'm scared of what to expect.

My dad reads his newspaper when we walk into the living room and doesn't even get up to greet me. We haven't seen each other for almost 3 months.

"Hello Dad." I say softly.

"Hello Anastasia." He replies and at least looks at me. “Don't you think your elevator is a little inappropriate? We're expecting guests for dinner. ”His gaze sweeps over my elevator.

Honestly, I'm wearing normal, light-colored jeans, an apricot-colored top and I'm even wearing high heels again, but that's obviously not good enough to match the image of Coleman lawyers ...

"I've just come from Dublin and it's a little colder there." I take my bag and stomp up the stairs to my room.

I really should have stayed in Ireland.

Who am I kidding?

My parents will never be able to forgive me for the past few years. Regardless of whether I make an effort or not, for her I will remain the daughter who, after the death of her only son, couldn't get anything done.

Furious, I toss my bag on the bed in the guest room and change. I slip into a pastel green short summer dress, open my braid and step out onto the balcony. I enjoy the view over the Atlantic for a moment and close my eyes.

“Anastasia? Are you coming to dinner The Bradfords have just arrived. ”My mum is suddenly in the room and I turn around, startled.

"Yes." I reply finally and she leaves right away.

I wasn't expecting much, but the first evening that I've been spending with them in three months, my parents could have kept it free, right?

I comb my hair and go down the stairs to the dining room.

"Anastasia, it's good to see you." Mr. Bradford, a longtime client of the firm, stands up when I walk in.

"Glad to see you too, Mr. Bradford." I reply politely and sit down.

Then Izobell, my parents' housekeeper, serves up the starter and I look around.

How little did I miss this ...

"How much longer do you have to stay in the clinic?" Mrs. Bradford looks at me and I look up in surprise.

“Clinic?” I ask and look at my mum, who is staring at her plate.

"Yes, you are in a clinic that should make your withdrawal as easy as possible for you, aren't you?" Mrs. Bradford flutters her fake eyelashes at me and I shake my head with a sigh.

“No Mrs. Bradford, I'm not in a clinic. I've been studying at Trinity in Dublin since October. ”I explain to her with a false smile and she looks at my dad in astonishment.

“Are you at least getting on with your studies?” Asks my dad in a cold tone.

"Yes." I reply and concentrate on my salad again.

"At least what ..." he snorts softly "You know Victor, our Jonathan was finished at that age." He looks at Mr. Bradford and I clench my free hand into a fist.

"He didn't have to deal with the death of the only person he cared about." I press my lips together.

"But Anastasia, Sparrow, we love you." My mum looks at me with wide eyes.

“Yes Mum, do you guys do that?” I put my fork down “That's why you all tell me I'm in a rehab clinic? It seems to me that you just want to get your problem out of the country. "

"No Anastasia ..." she shakes her head and my dad looks at me carefully.

"Think carefully about your choice of words." His voice is dangerously low.

"What dad? You didn't even ask me how I was ... You don't do that? At least out of courtesy? ”I look at my dad.

"I asked you." He furrows his forehead.

“No dad, you haven't. You were the first to grapple with my elevator. I really wonder why it was important to you that I come over the holidays. Does it even make a difference to you? ”I look at him and see the hurt pride in his eyes.

“Of course, we love you, you are our daughter. You are all we have left. ”My dad's voice sounds monotonous and I know he only says that to look good in front of his colleague and his wife.

"Yes, what else you have, but you'd prefer it a thousand times if John sat here and not me." I get up.

“Where are you going now?” My mum looks at me in astonishment.

"To the guest room, I'm not hungry and besides, I'm tired." With that I leave the dining room with quick steps.

"... That is definitely the jet lag." I hear my dad trying to excuse my behavior again.

I roll my eyes in frustration and climb the stairs to the first floor.

There are tons of photos on the walls ... John is smiling at me from so many. In this house he is as present as if he was about to walk in the door.

John was absolutely the model son, everything he tackled he succeeded.

But unlike our parents, he always told me that being a lawyer isn't everything. Much more, life is about finding a balance between your work, your family and the things you enjoy.

Something that my parents apparently didn't succeed in ...

"I miss you John, I miss you so much." I whisper sadly and go into the guest room.

I lie down on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

Ordinary parents might worry after a conversation like that, but my parents don't even ask after the guests have left.

They don't care, at least that's how it feels.

In fact, I fall asleep a little later from exhaustion.

The next morning, as I come down the stairs after I've showered and dressed, Izobell comes up to me and looks at me carefully.

"How did you sleep Ana?" She asks quietly.

“OK.” I reply.

"It's good to see you." She smiles and, to her surprise, I hug her.

"Thank you Belle, it means a lot to me that you are happy." I give her a smile and go into the living room.

The perfectly decorated Christmas tree stands in the corner and countless gifts underneath. I sigh in agony, of these gifts when the time comes, 4 are meant to be unwrapped, the rest is decoration ...

“Merry Christmas!” My mum comes out of the kitchen, hugs me and presses me a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks Mum." I reply, shaking my head slightly.