Chapter 131 - Vivian
Vivian woke feeling disoriented. It was the second time in a week she’d woken up on the living room couch, though this was the first time everyone else had made a slumber party out of it.
The love seat was too small for Gabriel, though he mustn’t have cared. Both his legs were hanging over the arm rest as he lay on his back, snoring softly.
Both Sebastian and Laurent had made beds on the floor, something she was sure Gabriel should have also done; there was no way he wouldn’t be sore after sleeping like that all night.
This left Samuel as the odd one out. It didn’t look like another bed had been made up on the floor, or anywhere else. He must have gone to his own bed, she told herself as she stretched her arms above her head for a moment, letting them drop back down afterwards. She’d slept like the dead — not a single dream — and yet she still felt drained. Falling back asleep didn’t feel like an option, so she swung her legs off the couch and waited to see if any of her brothers would stir. When they didn’t, she got to her feet and tip toed out of the room.
Vivian knew she was hungry, even though she didn’t feel like eating. All she’d consumed yesterday had been a couple of sandwiches, and a lot of marshmallows; not exactly a balanced diet. Even if she lacked an appetite, she knew eating was still the best thing for her to do. It also gave her something to focus on that didn’t remind her about the previous evening.
Upon entering the kitchen, Vivian found her father sitting at the island counter with a mug of coffee and his laptop. Looking up from his work, he gave her a warm smile. “Good morning.”
“…morning,” she replied after a second, feeling awkward. How was she suppose to act now that they knew she’d witnessed her mom’s death? That she was to blame. For his part, Samuel did seem any different than usual, so Vivian decided to do the same.
Venturing to the fridge, she rummaged for a minute before deciding on yoghurt. Light, simple, easy; the breakfast of emotionally drained teens.
After she grabbed a spoon, Samuel motioned for her to take the seat next to him. Another brief hesitation later, Vivian took the offered seat without a word.
“How did you sleep?” Her father asked, as he closed his laptop and gave her his undivided attention.
Spoon in her mouth, Vivian shrugged her shoulders before taking it out. “Alright, I guess. I… still feel drained.”
“That’s not surprising,” he nodded slowly. “You had… a rough day.”
That’s a bit of an understatement, she noted, eating another spoonful of her breakfast. There were a lot of questions she wanted to ask him, now that he knew the truth, but Vivian was too scared to put any of them into words. Yes, he’d promised he’d never let her go, but that didn’t mean her part in his wife’s death hadn’t bothered him. He could still blame Vivian, but keep her around because he was her father. He could do what she always did, and bury those feelings deep down where no one would know.
“You’re spiralling.” Samuel nudged her shoulder, breaking Vivian’s train of thought. “What were you thinking about?”
No longer interested in the yoghurt, Vivian set it on the counter and let out a sigh. “How can you just… accept… me like this?” She found herself asking. “I’m… broken. And didn’t tell you about… about Mom.”
“Everyone is broken,” he told her after a few seconds. “Some more than others. When Annie disappeared, it broke me. Your brothers… I can’t say I was the best father in the following years, or even now, but that doesn’t mean I’m worthless. What you went through — witnessing Annie… your mom’s last moments — broke you, just like her disappearance did me, and you’ve been dealing with it the best you can.
“Since the day she vanished, it’s felt like a part of me is missing,” Her father paused, crossing his arms on the counter and letting out a chuckle. “And last night… last night you gave me some closure. It feels like…” He trailed off for a second time, tilting his head just a bit. “Our family hasn’t felt whole since your mom disappeared. We never knew what happened — if she’d been kidnapped, murdered… or maybe she’d just run away — and that meant we could never really move on. Knowing that she… Knowing that she gave her life for you? It gives a weird sort of meaning to her death… It helps me accept that she is, truly, gone.”
“…but isn’t… doesn’t that hurt…?”
“Of course it does,” he laughed a little. “It hurts a lot, but it would hurt so much more, if I was told the body of a daughter I hadn’t known I’d had, was found. Never getting to know you, never getting to hear that Annie fought until her last breath… That would be… I don’t know if I would be able to get over that.”
“… but…”
“But nothing,” he replied, shaking his head before looking over at his daughter.
Vivian pursed her lips. It was obvious he didn’t understand what she’d been trying to say, not that she blamed him. She hadn’t been able to say the words out loud, in such a way that they made sense. “You don’t understand…” she muttered, hands clenching on her lap. “He killed her because I wasn’t his kid.”
She hadn’t been looking at Samuel, and was caught by surprise when he placed his hands on her shoulders, gently turning her so they were facing one another. “Who killed her, Vivian? Who is ‘he’?” He asked, his eyes locking on hers. There were more questions in those eyes, but Vivian was frozen in fear at what she’d said. Why was she being so stubborn, pushing him to blame her, only for her to say the wrong thing yet again?
How was she going to get out of telling him who Paul Oglivie was to her, who he’d been to her mom? If Samuel learned the identity of her mom’s killer… There was no way he could take on the police and win. It was better to keep that information to herself. “Uhm…” She wet her lips, unable to look away from her father. “That’s… He’s…”
As if he realized the pressure he was exerting on her, Samuel loosened his grip on her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… be forcing you to tell me anything you aren’t ready to talk about.”
Vivian nodded, finally able to look away. Putting her arm on the counter, she played with the spoon she’d abandoned. “… She told me… about all of you,” she found herself saying, eyes never leaving the spoon as the light reflected off it differently depending on how it was held.
“… did she?”
Nodding, Vivian continued. “Yeah… she was always telling me stories, you know? And almost all of them had all of you in it. Mom never… actually said it until…, but, after a while, I understood that she had another family she’d been forced to leave behind. I understood she missed them, but… I was always… so glad that I had her for myself.”
“Can you… tell me one of her stories, Vivian? I think I’d like to hear one.”