Chapter 18 - St. Catherine’s
Two years after Vivian tried to send Lily away, Ethan drove her to St. Catherine’s.
Not as a student being transferred.
As a sixteen-year-old attending a three-week summer architecture institute.
Lily wore the silver heart locket.
Her pale-blue phone case had cracked and been replaced twice, but she had bought another in almost the same shade.
The black suitcase sat in the trunk.
Ethan had asked before loading it.
She had said yes.
At the campus entrance, Lily stared at the stone buildings.
“Still want to do this?” Ethan asked.
“Yes.”
“Immediate answer. Suspicious.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
They checked in.
Real school address.
Real admissions staff.
Real dorm.
Lily signed her own program rules where allowed.
Ethan signed parental consent where required.
No one took her phone except during studio sessions by classroom rule.
No seventy-two-hour silence.
At the dorm, Ethan stood awkwardly.
“Do I hug you?”
“You can ask less formally.”
“Can I hug you?”
“Yes.”
He did.
Then lingered.
“Dad.”
“I know.”
“You have to leave.”
“I know.”
“You look like I’m being deployed.”
“I’m leaving my child with teenagers.”
“I am teenagers.”
“Exactly.”
Lily laughed.
“Go.”
Ethan reached the door.
She called:
“Dad.”
He turned too quickly.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For leaving.”
He smiled.
“You’re welcome?”
She laughed again.
After he left, Lily sat on the bed.
For one second panic rose.
Suitcase.
New room.
Father gone.
Then her roommate walked in carrying three pillows and a plant.
“Please tell me you’re Lily.”
“I am.”
“Great. I’m Priya and my mother thinks dorm rooms cause vitamin deficiencies.”
The panic broke.
Three weeks changed something.
Lily loved the studio.
Hated communal bathrooms.
Stayed up too late.
Designed a community library model.
Called Ethan every few days.
Not because she had to.
Because she wanted to.
Halfway through, Vivian sent a message through the permitted contact channel.
Owen says you’re at St. Catherine’s. I hope it feels like yours this time. No need to reply.
Lily read it.
Then replied anyway.
It does.
Nothing more.
Vivian sent back:
Good.
That was all.
At the final exhibition, Ethan, Tessa, Owen, and—after Lily thought about it for two days—Vivian attended.
They stood in different clusters.
No fake unity.
No staged family photograph.
Lily preferred that.
Her project won honorable mention.
Ethan acted as though she had won the Pritzker Prize.
Priya whispered:
“Your dad is intense.”
“You have no idea.”
Vivian approached the model after everyone else.
“You’re good.”
“Thanks.”
“Your mother studied design too, didn’t she?”
“Landscape architecture.”
Vivian nodded.
“She would have liked this.”
Lily watched her.
Once, Vivian had used Nora’s memory strategically.
Now she said the sentence and left it alone.
No claim.
No comparison.
“Maybe.”
Vivian smiled.
“That’s all I meant.”
Then walked away.
On the drive home, Ethan asked:
“Would you ever attend here full-time?”
Lily stared.
“You are asking me about boarding school.”
“I have grown.”
“You have become reckless.”
He laughed.
“I mean for eleventh or twelfth grade.”
Lily thought.
“No.”
“Okay.”
“That fast?”
“You said no.”
She smiled.
“Local school.”
“Done.”
“You can have opinions.”
“I have many.”
“Then why aren’t you arguing?”
Ethan looked at the road.
“Because I finally learned disagreement does not require me to turn your answer into a problem.”
Lily sat with that.
Then:
“I might apply here for college programs.”
“Now who’s manipulative?”
“Shut up.”
They laughed.
At home, Lily unpacked the black suitcase.
At the bottom she found an old luggage tag.
From the morning Vivian tried to send her away.
The printed destination remained faded but readable:
CEDAR HOUSE ADOLESCENT ASSESSMENT CENTER
Lily stared at it.
Then carried it downstairs.
Ethan looked worried.
“Where did you find that?”
“Suitcase pocket.”
“Want me to throw it away?”
Lily thought.
Then tore it in half herself.
Not violently.
Not dramatically.
Just paper.
She put it in the trash.
“I don’t need it.”
May you like
The suitcase stayed.
---
