Chapter 5 - THE PRICE OF ADMISSION
I walked out of the dining room,
the crystal chandeliers throwing long,
shattered shadows,
across the walls of the hallway.
I could hear the muffled voices behind me,
the sudden eruption of frantic conversation,
as the family tried to digest the news.
I reached the entry hall,
where my simple coat hung alone,
between a fur stole and a tailored wool overcoat.
As I reached for it,
I heard footsteps behind me,
quick and heavy.
It was Blake.
“Audrey, wait!”
he called out,
his face flushed,
his tie askew.
I turned,
holding my coat over my arm,
watching him approach.
“What is it, Blake?”
He stopped a few feet away,
looking at me as if I were a stranger,
or perhaps a goddess he needed to appease.
“I’m sorry,”
he said,
the words sounding forced,
like he was reading them from a script.
“I didn't know the numbers.”
“If I had known… I never would have said those things.”
I looked at him,
truly looked at him,
and felt a profound sense of pity.
“That’s the problem, Blake,”
I said,
my voice soft but firm.
“You only respect the numbers.”
“You don't respect the person.”
“If I were still struggling,”
“if my company were failing,”
“you would still be in there,
laughing at my bus pass.”
He opened his mouth to protest,
but the truth was written in the sweat on his forehead.
“Your apology isn't for me,”
I continued,
“it’s for the missed opportunity.”
“You’re worried you won’t be invited to the next round.”
“You’re worried your Ferrari won’t get you through my door.”
He looked down at his shoes,
the expensive Italian leather,
suddenly looking very thin.
“I’m leaving, Blake.”
“Don’t follow me.”
I walked out the front door,
into the cool Connecticut air,
the scent of pine and damp earth,
filling my lungs.
The Ferrari was still there,
gleaming under the porch light,
a monument to a life of surface-level vanity.
I pulled my phone from my pocket,
and within seconds,
my Uber app showed a driver two minutes away.
As I stood at the end of the driveway,
I looked back at the house,
the warm light in the windows,
representing a world I no longer belonged to.
My father appeared in the doorway,
framed by the golden light,
watching me go.
He didn't try to stop me.
He knew that the daughter he had raised,
May you like
had built a wall of her own,
and he was currently on the outside.
