“Leave? Where?” her dad asks.
Eva snorts. “I'm accepted by Seattle University.”
“Where will you live there? We can buy you an apartment,” her mother says quickly.
Eva laughs without humor before snapping. "I don't want you to be fucking buy me anything. I just want you to remember you have a daughter. Or maybe, it doesn't matter now neither."
“Eva… we…” her dad starts but trails off.
“Will you live together?” The question comes from her mother and this time I answer.
“Yes, Mrs. Faye. Look. I know how this looks, but I love your daughter. And I believe she loves me. I want her to be happy, and she is happy with me, just like I am with her."
“You don't have to explain anything. They won't care anyway,” Eva snaps and turns to head to the bedroom.
Her parents and I stand there in a weird silence when she appears with her suitcase behind.
“Let's go.”
"Eva… I'm sorry-" her mom starts, and her dad interrupts her, "We're sorry, Evangeline."
“Please, don't leave. Not until we talk it all out. Not until you listen to us, please,” her mother says while crying. I bet no one has ever seen that woman cry before.
"You've lost your son, and you didn't know how to deal with it. And looking at me probably reminded you that day. So you decided to ignore me and focus on work, right?" Eva says coldly.
When her dad nods, she snorts. "Believe me, I know. In your absence, I had much time to make theories to help me forgive you. But staying here and talking won't make me forgive you so easily, Mom," Eva adds.
Mrs. Faye nods.
“Would you at least let us try to redeem ourselves?” her dad asks, putting his hand on her mother's back to support her.
“I doubt you'll want it, but…” she swallows before continuing with a softer voice, “Please, do, Dad. I want to forgive you and to be able to talk to you.”
Her parent's nod.
“Let us know the address you'll be staying. And if you need anything,” her mother says and comes to hug Eva. Their hug is awkward, but I see how it touches Eva.
“Use Eva's credit card for whatever you need. And… take care of my girl,” her dad says to me almost reluctantly before stretching his hand for a handshake.
And with that, we are both confronted and blessed. It was a strange moment. One I don't know is good or bad. But when I get to the driver seat of my truck, I see Eva's chin high and her eyes somehow clearer from the pain. Like there is clarity or maybe closure at their short and weird argument.
I have to admit, I was expecting more fight from her parents. I thought they'd be such assholes toward her and about our relationship, but all I really saw was a mother and father in pain they didn't know how to deal with.
“Can we go to West? I want to say goodbye to them,” Eva says as we leave her home behind.
My girl cares for those people so much, the last week we also made sure the staff will continue providing whatever is needed in the Westside. And I loved spending time with them, too. They were the family when Eva needed one.
When I link our fingers on my thigh, I smile at Eva and drive to the Westside, hoping she'll build the bridges back with her parents.
Epilogue
Eva
3 months later
To Eva,
My girl, my love, my future