Chapter 4
"I'm seeing someone." My hand begins to tremble, and I pull it off the table and hide it, hoping my voice will remain steady enough not to betray my panic.
"You have a boyfriend?" My mother is quick to show interest.
"Something like that," I deliberately diminish the relationship Colin and I have been engaged in for months.
Yes, I'm going out with someone.
Yes, he's my boyfriend.
No, I don't think it will go smoothly.
"What's his name?" My father asks between one bite and another.
"Colin Young." I don't think his name will tell my father anything, and I really don't think the investigation is over.
"And what does Colin Young do in his life?" My father proves me right.
"He's studying with me," I move uneasily in the chair, "we study together."
"When will we meet him?" My father looks up over the plate.
"He's very busy," I evade for another second and let him enjoy his final moments of peace.
"Busy with school?"
"Among other things," I take a deep breath and prepare for the storm that is about to break out. "With school and trainings."
My father freezes. His fork stays in his hand, hanging in the air, a piece of steak stuck on it and refusing to enter his mouth.
"Training?" My mother's voice is much calmer than the look on Father's face.
"He's . . . the captain . . . of the…football team."
My father's fork drops. He shoves his chair back and when he rises, the chair crashes to the floor.
He glares at me.
He doesn't say a word.
He leaves the house slamming the door and shaking the windows, my heart and my fragile world.
My mother is silent.
I have nothing to say either.
I hope he can see that Colin is different, that Colin loves me and I love him, that he's not like them.
He really isn't like them.
He's sensitive, goodhearted and funny, and if my father could only see it, beyond the intense hatred that strikes him, we have a chance.
A week has passed since my phone call with Colin, since my father gave me the lawyer's phone number who asked me dozens of questions that I didn't know how to answer. Couldn't he just throw me a number?
The silence on Colin's part drives me crazy. Not that I want him to call, but not knowing where he is or what he is doing bothers me. I wonder if he is giving me some much needed breathing space or leaving again.
He said he was staying.
But he has said many things, and I stopped believing them at all.
My phone rings at five in the afternoon, I answer while Vivian sits in the plastic little tub I set on the shower floor, playing with soap and water.
"Hello?" I put the phone to my ear, careful not to take my eyes off my child.
"Tell your father and his friends they failed their mission." The indignation in Colin's voice makes my heart start beating wildly.
"What are you talking about?"
"If they think some bruises and a shiner will scare me out of town, they underestimate me and my seriousness."
"They what?" I shout, and the phone falls from my shoulder to the floor. I hurry to pick it up with trembling hands. "Colin, I swear, I didn't have anything to do with that, I'll kill him."
"Mama, you said you were joking." Vivian stops playing and looks at me. God, give me a break!
"I'm still joking, sweetie, go back to your game."
"Was that her?" Colin's voice joins in, sounding as if a lump has been lodged in his throat.
"Don't change the subject."
"Elizabeth, please," he clears his throat.
For the first time since his return, I realize that he isn't calling me any of the nicknames he used to in the past. I'm not Lizzie or Liz and certainly not his love. I'm Elizabeth, and this formality no longer evades me.
"Would you mind letting me hear her?"
"Yes." I lean against the doorpost, looking at the blond girl, who looks exactly like the guy on the phone.
"Please, talk to her."
"No," I quietly refuse again. "Just wait until I get my hands on my father."
"You won't have any trouble recognizing him, he's the guy with the broken nose."
"You broke my father's nose?" I whisper in horror.
"There were three of them, waiting for me outside the gym. Not really fair play, if you ask me."
"I'm sorry, I swear I had no idea." I close my eyes. This is getting ugly.
"Give me a number, Elizabeth. I know you need the money, let me take care—" He cuts off midsentence.
"I'm working on it." I really need to sit on it and finish.
"I can deposit something in the meantime."
I'm about to refuse him. I don't want him to think I'm buying into this good guy pretense.
"Mama, I want out," Viv calls.
"I have to finish."
"I know." He knows his time is over. I hang up, put the phone on the floor and pull the towel from the hook to wrap my daughter, the little one that was mine and mine only, and now a stranger wants to become a part of her life.
"Mama," Vivian looks up at me over her dinner plate, a rebellious lock of hair falling over her forehead.
"Yes, Viv?" I bite into the roast chicken.
"Do you think my daddy's in heaven?"
I cough loudly as the chicken gets stuck in my throat. There have only been a few times that Vivian has asked me about her father, I suppose because she grew up without him and didn't know anything else. I have a feeling she's been hearing things this past week, even if she doesn't quite understand what.
"Your father isn't in heaven, Viv." I try to remain indifferent in the face of the storm gathering momentum inside me.
"Daryl said anyone who dies goes to heaven."
"Is that what Daryl said?"
"Yes, like his granddad. Daryl draws him." She fills her mouth with potatoes.
"What do you think?" I cast about.
"About people who die?" she asks, her mouth full. "I think they're going to heaven. Is that where my dad is?"
Another loud cough attacks me. I always knew that the moment would come, and with it the difficult questions. If only I could put this off a little.
"Your father isn't in heaven." I take a sip of water.
"Is he in hell?"
I wish.
"Your father isn't dead."
In fact he's not too far from here, and I keep him from seeing you. Maybe I shouldn't say that.
"So where is he?" She stops her chewing in anticipation of an answer.
"He left."
"When will he be back?"
Damn you, Colin!
"I don't know, darling, not all fathers come back."
"Louisa's father came back."
"Louisa's father went to New York on a business trip." Yes, we all heard about Louisa's father's trip, the one that became longer and longer because of a certain blond woman with impressive cleavage, or so I've heard. Louisa's father returned after six months and Louisa's mother was a sucker who took him back.
"Can I paint him a painting?"
"Louisa's dad?" I twist my face.
"My dad," she answers innocently. My heart is crushed, literally, crushed and burned.
"You can draw for him. Now finish eating your chicken." I look down at the plate and load my fork with potatoes. If only the subject won't open again.
"What the hell were you thinking?" I shout into the phone, standing on the porch at nine in the evening, after I've put Viv to sleep, letting my father understand exactly what I think of his behavior.
"I just told him to stay away." He doesn't get excited.
"From what I heard you got yourself a broken nose."
"A small price to pay. You're my daughter, and if you thought I would sit still . . ."
"I'm trying to solve this!" If my family doesn't stop interfering, someone will pay. "I told you, don't interfere."
"Don't you think you’re confused?" He laughs out loud, "I'm not your child."
"It's not your problem." I try to sound firm.
"I told you a thousand times, he is dangerous."
"Stop interfering."
"He needs to leave." He hangs up the call without letting me comment.
I swear loudly, go into the house and sit down on the couch, picking up Vivian's painting to a father she doesn't know. Blue sky, green grass and three figures holding hands. That's how it was supposed to be. Two people in love who brought a child into the world, and together they can whether the storm. I get up slowly, open the cupboard under the TV and hesitate for just a moment before reaching deep in and taking out the old photo album hidden inside. I sit down on the rug, put it on my lap and open it, looking at the eighteen-years-old girl whose hand is around the broad waist of the blond boy beside her. We were photographed at the summer fair, just before the school year was over. Just before I made the fatal decision that would change everything.
The girl I used to be smiles innocently from the photo. In her eyes, I see she believes everything can be mended. The world hasn't spoiled her and she is swept off her feet by a blonde boy who sells her illusions. Did he ever really love me?
The question occupied me for so many long nights while I laid in bed, my hands on my stomach and the baby in my womb kicking. How can one leave without giving an opportunity to understand?
He just…stopped loving me.
Perhaps one of us got sensible in time. Maybe I wanted to believe the illusion, and Colin couldn't pretend anymore. Either way, life went on, and my baby grew up to be a beautiful girl, full of confidence and smiles.
The boy in the picture disappeared only to return and raise those unanswered questions. To open the box where I locked my heart and stab it, one last time that would kill me forever.