Inevitable Ever After

Part 15

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I slide into a free meeting room before I answer the phone. Nobody else needs to hear this.

Then I stare a good long while on the screen before I can really muster up the strength to pick up. "I am at work."

"Yes, when are you not," Caroline says, voice full of retort. Almost like a mother that worries about her kid. If only there wasn't the annoyed sub-tone.

"What do you want?" I ask, rubbing my forehead.

"Have you signed the waiver?" Caroline talks over me. "I spoke to the lawyer today, and he said he still hasn't heard back from you."

I hold back a groan. It has been, what, a day? Two? Steve Edwards probably has to work on more cases than just ours.

"I signed and express-mailed the documents."

"Mailed?" Caroline repeats. "I thought we agreed you would bring them over in person."

Now I can't help but groan. I still remember that night in my apartment vividly – how she threatened me and how I totally lost it. We certainly did not agree on anything. "Well, I signed. It's on its way. Can't be more than a couple of days now." Which is nothing compared to the long terrible year it took to get to this point. Who knew law stuff could be that tiresome. Hundreds of reviews until every word in every sentence was acceptable for all parties involved. In movies it always looks so easy.

Caroline snorts. It's an awfully twisted sound over the phone – befitting for the evil witch that she is. "Somehow I doubt that."

"I signed." Gave her everything my father left me. Everything she wanted. "What else do you want me to do?"

"I don't want anything else, I want you to do the one thing we agreed on."

I pull a face, wasn't expecting an answer to the rhetorical questions. "Look, I'm busy. I have to go. I'm sure everything will be worked out soon enough."

"One way or another," Caroline breathes into the phone just as I press the button to end the call.

I stand frozen.

There she goes – threatening me again. The logical part of my brain knows its groundless. There are laws these days, and police and autopsies when someone is murdered. She can't actually poison me. She can't actually kill me.

Not to mention, I won't stay dead, if the fairy tale is to be trusted. I will be witness in a trial to her attempted murder. Maybe she wants to see me dead, but she wouldn't ruin her own life over it.

Every other part of my body snaps to hyperventilation. I shake and tremble and no matter how much I breathe it's not enough oxygen. Caroline doesn't need to kill me – I will die on my own, right here, right now. The walls of the meeting room start to spin around me. Somehow everything gets darker.

I tap for a chair, almost knock it over, and slump down.

Then the tears come. Sobs mix into my erratic gasps for air.

Because somewhere deep down the reality sinks in.

I gave up what my father left me. I cut the last string connecting me to him. He is gone for good and so is his barber shop and all the memories we gathered there. I will never again sit in one of the red satin chairs, getting strange looks from all the other customers. I will never again quarrel with my father over his lacking understanding of advertisement. I will never again smell that scent – a mixture of lavender soap and old spice beard oils.

I let go.

I didn't want to let go.

But I selfishly put myself over what he had wanted for me.

And it doesn't change a damn thing. The fairy tale curse will still destroy my life. It will still continue to take everything from me. My freedom. My father and his shop. My best friend.

Jared.

Juliet was wrong when she said I will understand when I meet my happily ever after.

I already lived mine. Then the curse took most of it away from me.

And now I will lose what little is left. 

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