Of Ice and Diamonds
Chapter One
Exile
Everything was falling apart, and- because there was only so much I could cope with by throwing up- I decided to run. I mean, what else could I do? Serena had had enough of me and chose her Brooklyn boyfriend over her best friend, Nate had dumped me because he found out what had happened between Chuck and me, Chuck had basically called me a used horse and said he was finished with me, and all my friends had betrayed me- even little Jenny Humphrey had turned against me. As far as I was concerned, I was ruined on the Upper East Side, and the only solution was to get out and away. So- out of pure desperation- I swallowed my pride and told my mother I wanted to live with my father and his boyfriend. She had argued against it at first, but when she saw how distraught I was she had called my father and arranged it right away. I was on a plane and out of Manhattan within twenty-four hours.
My dad and his boyfriend, Roman, met me at the airport in their Land Rover. They were in khaki and corduroy, looking every part the gay, hick-town couple they had become. It made me sick as I strode across the tarmac towards them, but they were happy to see me- smiling brightly and waving- and I had really missed my dad, so it wasn't all bad. The moment I was close enough, my father pulled me into a tight hug, and I felt tears well up in my eyes. It was so nice to be comforted- especially by the familiar smell of my dad's cologne and detergent- after the hell I had left behind in New York.
"Bear," he whispered into my hair. "It's so good to see you."
I rubbed my cheek against the thick material of his sweater, quietly saying, "It's good to see you too, Dad."
"Deed you 'ave a good flight, Blair?" Roman asked in his French-accented English when I pulled away from my dad.
I looked at him and tried my best to smile genuinely, saying, "It was fine, thanks Roman."
"Come on, let's go home," my dad said, and we quickly gathered up my bags and packed up the car.
The ride back to my dad and Roman's house took about an hour. We talked about the house, my mom, where I would be going to school, their cat Cat, and, briefly, about how school at Constance had been going, and about Serena and my friends. Neither my dad nor Roman brought up the giant elephant in the car- why I was coming to live with them in their Podunk little hick town, why I was leaving the city in the middle of the school year, etc.- and I offered them very little information. Constance was fine, Serena was fine, my friends were all fine, everything was fine. And when we stopped talking about all that, we passed the rest of the ride in silence.
My mom and dad separated when I was a sophomore. He had been seeing one of her male models, Roman, behind her back, and she kicked him out of the house when she found out.
At first he had stayed at Roman's loft, trying to stop by and sit down with my mom every day when I was in school. After that failed, he stopped by once a week and was ignored every time. And every day throughout the whole ordeal, he tried to get in touch with me. He would call the house or my cell phone, but I didn't want to speak to him. He had lied to us- had lied to me- my whole life, and I never wanted to see or speak to him again.
But then one day he waited for me outside of Constance until school let out, and then he followed me as I walked home. As we walked he had talked to me- tried to explain to me how hard it was for him, how he loved me no matter what- but I wouldn't listen. I hailed a taxi and left him somewhere near the steps of the Met, dejected.
Eventually, meetings with lawyers followed. My mom became more stressed, Dad stopped showing up at the building, there was screaming over the phone, crying at night, and throwing up more and more. He filed for divorce and she told him he was a 'lying, fucking bastard,' and he told her he was moving away with Roman- out of the city, out of New York- and he wanted me to be in his life. She told him to go to Hell.
Before he left though, he gave me a letter. In it, he apologized for hurting my mother and me and told me that he loved me- would always love me- and that he never wanted to lose me. He tried to explain why he did what he did- tried to explain that he finally felt like he was living the life he wanted, and that it would only be complete if I was a part of it too. He told me he was moving out west with Roman- to a small town on the Olympic Peninsula- and that I would have a room there if I ever chose to visit.
We started writing letters and talking on the phone that summer, when I had licked my wounds enough and realized how much I missed my dad. This year, while I was ready to make him a part of my life again, my mother was more reluctant, but around Christmastime, everything fell into place- Mom and Dad started getting along, Mom and Roman got along, I got along with both of them, and everything was nice and amiable.
That day- the day I moved out of the city- was the first time I had ever gone to Forks though, and when I got there, I really wished it was only a visit. With every mile and every hideously green tree that passed though, I realized how real it was, and I felt more and more nauseous as we neared closer to the house.
The town was so small, the houses so quaint and little, the people so ill-dressed and friendly, and it all added insult to injury.
"This is it, Bear," my dad said- proudly!- from the driver's seat. "This is Forks."
I wanted to vomit.
Dad and Roman's house wasn't so bad. It was on the edge of town, near a huge forest, and it was pretty big- but not massive- in a classic Tudor style. There was a porch along the front, where wicker furniture was set up, a white Audi in the driveway, and a fat, orange cat in the big front window. All in all, it looked like a sanctuary- the first piece of luxury I could see in this No Man's Land- and I felt my anxiety abate slightly.
Roman and my dad managed to haul all of my stuff up to my room, and then they left me to settle and get unpacked.
When I was left alone and they were both safely downstairs, I sat down on my bed and looked around my room. It was simple, painted a faint mint green, with gauzy white curtains, thick white bedding, and a dark oak sleigh bed with matching dresser and vanity table. On the wall above my bed, my dad had hung up two framed photographs of Paris, and two of Audrey Hepburn. I smiled at them, but then looked away, remembering my suitcases on the floor.
I don't think I had ever packed or unpacked a suitcase in my life. Usually I had Dorota to do that for me. But it was clear no one would be doting on me here, and I was expected to do things for myself. With this realization in my mind, I stood up, kicked my suitcases out of the way, closed my bedroom door, crossed over to my private bathroom, closed the door, cranked up the shower, and threw up any leftover food from the plane that might have been digesting in my stomach.
Later that night, after dinner with my dad and Roman, I was lying awake in bed, staring at the picture of my dad and me in front of Versailles- a picture from eighth grade that he had also set up on my night stand for my arrival- and letting myself wallow in my misery. Just before midnight, there was a knock at my door, and my dad walked in.
"Hey," he whispered, leaving the door open a crack. "I brought you something."
He pulled a portable DVD player and a DVD from behind his back and came over to me, sitting down on the edge of my bed.
The DVD was Breakfast at Tiffany's.
"I thought it might help you get to sleep," he told me, smiling.
I smiled back, feeling my throat constrict with unshed tears, and I croaked, "Thanks, Dad."
"It's good to have you here, Blair," he said to me, softly and sincerely, his eyes shining as he stared down at me.
Swallowing past the begging tears, I smiled sadly.
"What's wrong, Bear?" he asked, reaching out and stroking my cheek. "What is it?"
I knew he was asking after my current sadness, and why I had come to live with him, even though he hadn't come right out and asked that particular question. In any case, I shook my head.
"Blair."
Swallowing again, I felt my eyes fill up with tears and I blinked them away, saying, "It doesn't matter."
"It does," he insisted gently. "What is it?"
"Dad, everything's horrible- everything in the city," I told him, feeling every defense and guard I had put up fall right away at my dad's concern. "Nate and Chuck and Serena- they all hate me- everyone in school hates me."
He knotted his eyebrows, saying, "What do you mean? You came out here because of the people at school-"
"And my friends!" I said, my voice watery.
"Blair-"
I cut him off again, "Dad, everything was ruined for me, okay?" I shook my head as a tear dribbled out of my eye. "Please don't ask me to explain, just trust that I needed to leave- that I needed to get away from the city."
He stared at me for a long moment, and then nodded slowly, "I can understand that- after all, why do you think I'm here?" He patted my leg and said, "I'm glad to have you here, Bear- whatever the reason- just let me know if you need anything- if you want to talk."
"Thanks, Dad," I whispered.
He nodded, leaned forward, gently kissed me on the head, and then left my room.
That night I fell asleep to Breakfast at Tiffany's. And I cried silently throughout the whole movie.
