Carry On

"Just because you had her for the past couple years doesn't mean she's not my daughter," Michelle snapped as she paced the room, picking up things as she went along. The floor of her studio was littered with different fabrics and color swatches as Fashion Week approached.

"Bullshit, Michelle. I fucking raised her. Therefore I have a say in what she does," Brian argued, earning a glare from his ex-wife.

"Let's not forget, Syn, that for the first eleven years of her life you were no where to be found!" She yelled and Brian raised a hand to her.

"Don't even go there," He warned.

"Let's see," She put a hand on her hip, "You missed eight birthdays, six Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays, her first day of school, and her elementary graduation," She listed, counting on her fingers as she did so.

"I was gone providing a better life for you!" Brian yelled, pointing an accusing finger at her, "You're the one who wanted everything! And I felt like I had to give it to you! I was gone because I was trying to give Liza a better life than what we had growing up. How, after all these fucking years, do you still not realize that?!"

"You were off fucking whores and getting drunk, Brian!" She yelled back and his eyes widened, "Don't think you can fool me with your sob story. Like you're the victim here!? I stayed up with Liza as she cried for you and you wouldn't answer the phone to say goodnight to her when we called! You were always with some whore of a groupie or too drunk to answer!"

"What I did on tour didn't effect you guys," Brian answered lowly, "And those days were long behind me when you left."

"Didn't effect us!?" She screeched, "It didn't effect your daughter who, for the first eleven years of her life, didn't know what to do on father's day when you were off on tour!? Do you know how miserable she was because kids always made fun of her at school!? She would come home crying, you Jackass, because she felt like you didn't love her!"

Brian breathed in and out slowly, "I tried to be there for her."

"Well you didn't try hard enough, did you?" She asked.

"I'm there for her now, and that's what matters."

"Are you? Because last I checked she was home alone and she jabbed a fucking knife into her arm. Were you there for that too!?" She screamed as loud as she could.

"I tried!" Brian exploded, "I tried to raise her like a normal child! I tried to keep her away from the fans and the press because I didn't want her hurt! And I tried my damn best to be a father and a mother because you left her!"

Michelle shook her head, "No. I didn't leave her, Brian," She stated, "I left you for all the times you left me to do everything while you go to go off and have your fun. I was forced to throw away my dreams for you, Brian. So you could go off and do what you want to do. So no," She shook her head, "I didn't leave her. I left you."

"Oh, because one phone call a month counts as you still being there for her," He scoffed.

"I can't help that I'm busy, Brian."

"Don't fucking pull that shit with me, Michelle," He growled, "I go to the studio, I plan a fucking tour, I come home and have dinner ready, I get her to where she needs to be, and I make sure she's not running around doing stupid shit like we were in high school. I'm the one who made her who she is today!"

"Yeah, suicidal!" Michelle screamed and Brian hissed, looking away. He blocked out the memory of seeing his daughter, sprawled across the floor with blood all over herself and his best friend.

"That wasn't my fault," He muttered.

"Not your fault?" She asked, "Don't act like I don't know what happened, Brian," She scoffed and he looked at her again, "I'm not an idiot. I know she had a concert and you probably flipped a shit at her because she, once again, didn't live up to your fucking impossible expectations. So she probably ran home and tried to take it out on herself because she wanted to get away from you," Michelle poked a finger into Brian's chest.

"I yelled at her, but this wasn't my fault," He slapped her hand away.

"You don't have the right to yell at her like that, Brian. She's not you!" She yelled, "Just because you have 'daddy issues' doesn't mean she has to as well!"

Brian stepped back, eyes wide, "What?" He breathed.

"You heard me," She snapped, "You know your fucking father ruined your childhood as he tried to teach you guitar. He tried to make you the best and you couldn't stand it. So now that you're some big bad rockstar, she has to live up to your expectations! That's not how you raise a child!"

"Then tell me how to raise a child, Michelle!" Brian yelled, "Because you seem to be a fucking expert on it, seeing as you left her when she was only eleven."

"I left you..."

"No," He interrupted her, "You left her. She watched you pack your bags and when she asked you to stay you turned your back on her," He stated darkly, "You saw her tears and you saw how hurt and broken she was, but you still left," He said. His breathing was rapid as Michelle continued to stare him down, "How could you do that to her?" He asked, "How could you turn your back and the girl who depended on you? How could you look back and not wipe away her tears? She's the greatest thing to ever happen to us, Michelle, and you threw her away."

They were silent for a long time. Staring each other down. Michelle didn't drop her hard gaze, and neither did Brian. Both of them were breathing hard, glaring.

"That's why you don't have a say, Michelle," He continued, "Because you turned your back on her."

Michelle said nothing as Brian turned around, grabbing his sunglasses off the table and walking towards the door. His shoes echoing as each step rang on the hardwood floors. He made it to the door, his hand on the handle when he turned around. He looked up and saw his ex-wife, pissed off as ever but with a look of sadness and hurt in her eyes, "I left the decision entirely up to her," He said softly, "But you wouldn't give me a fucking chance to explain that. I told her that if she still wanted to go when the week came, then she could go. So if she doesn't get on that plane, then this is all on you." He looked up at her and she adverted her eyes away from him, "Goodbye, Michelle."

-

"Here, Sweetie," Val said softly, handing me a mug of hot chocolate. Val was a whiz in the kitchen. Her hot chocolate doesn't come from powder in little packet. She literally sits at the stove and waits for real chocolate to melt into warm milk before she tops it with whipped cream and chocolate syrup.

"Thanks," I replied. I tucked my legs underneath me and held my mug close to me, absorbing the heat.

We sat outside in the backyard. Matt turned on the dimmer lights for us so we could relax as we watched the ocean sunset from the spectacular view they had in their backyard. Although Matt and I had a talk earlier that changed the way I saw him, he still wanted to be alone for a while. When Val got home he confessed to telling me everything before he went directly upstairs.

"Matt said your Dad is on his plane now," She stated quietly after some much needed silence.

"Okay," I muttered. I wouldn't feel releived until he was back home. It wasn't fair. He left me.

"Liza, you know your father would never leave you," She said.

Yes he would.
"I know," I whispered.

"I still have some hard feelings on my sister, Liza. Despite how much I love her," She sighed, "But we have to move on. Your Dad just wants what's best for you."

He wants to get rid of me.
"Yeah."

She sighed, taking in a sip from her mug, "How's the arm?"

"Fine. I'm going to school on Monday. Finally," I stated.

"You have a lot of work to make up, huh?" She asked sadly.

"Yeah," I sighed, "And reports come out next week. I have a lot of work ahead of me," I sighed and she nodded.

"You've always been a hard worker, Liz. We're proud of you," She smiled.

"Thanks, Auntie," I smiled back.

I sighed, finishing my chocolate. By the time my mug was empty the sun was gone, and only the night remained. Val didn't have to say anything to make me feel better. She just needed to be there with me, and that's what she did. We sat in a comfortable silence, and I felt the wind around me. I felt it whip lightly at my face and I smelled the ocean air. I could feel goosebumps rising on my arms.

It was a reminder that I was alive.

It wasn't long before we headed inside, "The guest bedroom is yours. I'm not sure what time your Dad will be here. It might not be until morning. It's a long flight from New York to here," She explained.

"I like the couch," I muttered.

"Are you sure?" She asked and I nodded. She smiled lightly at me before kissing my forehead, "Good night," She said softly before making her way up the stairs.

I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.