Aubrey pulled her cardigan tighter around her middle despite the fact that it wasn't cold. Her knuckles were white as they held the soft, blue material in a vice-like grip. Her lunch was threatening to make an impromptu appearance all over her parent's white-wash porch. It was the first time she'd been home since the fiasco at the Acapella finals. Right now she wished she'd just come out with the truth straight away, instead of coming up with a string of lies and cover-ups. At least if she'd told them over the phone, she'd only be able to hear the disappointment in their voices and she wouldn't have to witness the look on their faces. She'd backed herself into an impossible corner, and the only way to escape was to fight her way out. Her father wasn't going to let this go easily, which was why she'd been standing on the porch for five minutes already but hadn't been brave enough to ring the bell. With a trembling hand she reached out and pushed the button. She did it fast, like ripping off a bandaid and within seconds she could hear somebody hurrying towards the door.
"Mom," Aubrey greeted the older woman who answered the door with a hug. She was tall and blonde like Aubrey though her face was harsher, and her smile not quite as warm. Still, Aubrey loved her just the same and found comfort in her familiar arms.
"Come inside, your Dad's in his study," Aubrey's mother explained and held the door open for her daughter. Aubrey smiled and surveyed the house. Everything was as she remembered; neat, tidy and not a thing out of place. The only thing that didn't quite belong was the black and white cat draped across the back of the couch.
"Get that damn thing off of there!" Aubrey's mother hissed when she caught sight of it. Aubrey hurried to the cat and cradled it in her arms.
"Hey Jude," she cooed to the tune of The Beatles classic and scratched between his ears. He nuzzled his head against her bosom and purred contentedly. With Jude in front of her heart like a metaphorical shield Aubrey continued down the hall to her father's study. The door loomed in front of her, more daunting than she'd ever seen it. She knocked five times rhythmically. It was the secret code she'd made up when she was little so her Dad knew when she was at the door. He spent long hours in his study and didn't like to be disturbed but he'd always made an exception for his Aubrey.
"Come in," boomed a voice from inside. Aubrey let Jude down before entering, her father didn't like cat hair all over his furniture.
"How's my little acapella champion?" her father asked before she'd even had time to cross the room to his desk. Winning was always the first thing on his mind; even when seeing his daughter for the first time in months. Aubrey was used to it, but this was the first time she'd ever come to him as a loser.
"About that Dad…" she started, deciding it was best to just get to the point. "We didn't win. I got nervous and vomited on stage. I just, I just didn't want you to be mad at me." She watched intently the sudden change in her father. His eyes darted from the computer screen to her and his body stiffened.
"What?" he growled, as if he may have just misheard. But he didn't wait for Aubrey to reply. "You begged us to let you go to college and study music and drama, you promised your spot on the Bellas would look good on your resume. You could have been a surgeon or a lawyer, Aubrey and you threw that all away to come last at stupid singing competitions?" He was standing now and his voice was raised. He was taller than Aubrey and incredibly intimidating. Aubrey was glad for the desk that acted as a barricade between them.
"I—, I—" Aubrey stuttered, unable to form cohesive sentences. Her shoulders were slumped as she tried to make herself as small as possible in embarrassment and defeat. There was only one person who could make Aubrey Posen back down like this, and that was the man she loved the most.
"Your mother and I gave you everything, Aubrey. Everything. What's my one rule? If at first you don't succeed…"
"Pack your bags," Aubrey finished for him. Some kids had been read bedtime stories, she'd been told this every night for her entire childhood. It was this philosophy that had been engrained in her since birth that had made her the uptight and controlling perfectionist she was today.
"But Daddy…" her bottom lip quivered riskily; crying was another thing that was not tolerated in the Posen household. "I did my best. I just got so nervous and all I wanted to do was make you proud of me but the pressure was too much." She was biting her lip hard to force herself not to start crying. Her father's rage was obvious as he refused to even look at his daughter.
"I raised my daughter to be the best. And when you told us you didn't want to go to Harvard I was okay with you wasting your potential on this aca-whatever nonsense as long as you were the best at it. But turns out you couldn't even be that. I've been nothing but supportive of you your entire life Aubrey. You're mother and I gave you everything. But right now I'm ashamed to call you my daughter."
His words stung as if he'd reached out and slapped her right across the face. Aubrey could feel the hot tears materialising in her eyes and wasn't sure how long she could keep them from falling. Even more concerning however, was the awful feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. She choked a little on phantom-vomit and tried to focus on something else. Her eyes settled on the row of photographs on the shelf behind her father. Her mother was in some of the photos, but mostly the frames were filled with a bubbly blonde girl with curls, and her father. Aubrey was an only child – her father's pride and joy. When she was young Aubrey had been glad it was just her, because that meant having nobody to compete with for her Daddy's attention. Now she realised a sibling to share some of the pressure would have been a lifesaver. A particular photo catches her eye. She's about six years old and holding a certificate. Her hair is in two plaits and her toothy grin reveals a gap in the top right corner. It was the day of her year one spelling bee. Her Dad had been too busy to come watch but she remembered racing into his office that afternoon, forgetting about knocking at all, waving the certificate high above her head. It had been the first time she'd won anything and she'd never forget how proud her father had looked as he spun her around in celebration. The rest of the photos followed a similar theme: Aubrey and her father after her first swim meet, Aubrey and her father at her high school graduation. Aubrey only had her father's attention when she was winning, which thankfully as a child, was always. This was the first time she'd let him down, and the first time she'd realised that the man she'd looked up to all her life maybe wasn't the hero she'd always seen him as.
"Daddy, I'm still your Aubrey. I made a mistake, but I'll come back fighting next year. I'll be captain of the Bellas and I swear we'll be better. I'll be better. Dad, please look at me!" Aubrey was pleading now, her voice cracking with emotion. Her father raised his gaze slowly and locked eyes with his daughter. For the longest time neither of them spoke but neither dared to break eye contact. It was an intense battle of wills, and if Aubrey had inherited anything from her father it was his stubbornness. It was her father who eventually broke the silence.
"Fine. You come back when you've made something of yourself, when you're somebody I can be proud of again. Until then, you're not welcome in this house."
Aubrey turned and fled out of the office, racing straight past her mother and outside onto the porch where she threw up over the railing and into the rose bush below. She hastily wiped her mouth with her sleeve and continued away from the house without looking back. The tears she'd fought so hard to stop were streaking down her face and her breaths were short and sharp. She wasn't her Daddy's little girl anymore and a part of her felt freed by that, which killed her even more.