CHAPTER FORTY
THE PHONE CALL
The ceiling blurred in and out of focus. I rolled out of bed and stood in front of my wardrobe. The grief resurfaced with sharp urgency, jabbing at my sides. I sank to the ground, anchoring myself against the carpet, and waited for the tears that never came. Instead they puffed up inside my chest, pushing outwards like a thousand tiny hands.
There were voices downstairs. It was late and the sun was starting to dip. It took me a minute to recall what day it was – Saturday. I used to love Saturdays. Pots were clanging in the kitchen. Mrs Bailey was making dinner again. She wasn’t a good cook but she had come by every day since it had happened. She had rallied, and I felt bad for judging her so harshly in the past. Millie was downstairs. She had stuck by me every day and even though I could find little to say to her – to anyone – the familiarity of her accent wafting through the house brought me some comfort in the darkest moments.
I scrolled through my phone. They had found it in the parking lot after that night. They said it got separated from me in the blast – the technology somehow miraculously surviving intact – but I knew better. He had left it there for me. Don’t think about him.
I had four missed calls from an unknown number. I clicked back into the home screen. My mother and I stared back at me, flashing identical cheesy smiles, our heads touching against each other so that our hair blended into one golden halo.
The pressure on my chest tightened. I stowed my phone away and scrambled back into bed. There was no point in getting up when the day was already disappearing. I turned on to my side and stared unblinkingly at the wall. Flames started to creep into my mind, the searing hotness pulsing through my bandaged arms. I blinked until my head pounded from the effort and the flames melted away.
The house phone was ringing downstairs. A fit of coughing seized me, and I spluttered into my pillow, trying to stifle it. I came away from the fabric feeling woozy. The pressure intensified, closing around my chest until my lungs felt like they were being crushed into small papery balls. I shrivelled up, pulling my knees into my chest and bowing my head against them.
‘Are you asleep?’ Millie was at my door. I raised my head and blinked her into focus. Her hair was piled on her head, her face drawn tight with exhaustion.
‘I’m awake.’
She edged inside, the phone clutched in her hand. ‘It’s your dad again …’
‘No.’
She perched against my bedside table. ‘Soph, you need to talk to him.’
I shook my head. My voice was unsteady. ‘I can’t, Mil.’
Her face crumpled, the concern turning to anguish. ‘You need each other right now, Soph. You can’t go through this alone. You shouldn’t have to.’
I imagined what it would be like to have my father there with me, to hug him and not have to worry about prison guards pulling us apart. What a wonderful thing to stand against the tide of grief and anchor ourselves to each other. But that was before everything. Now, when I pictured him, I saw Vince Marino. I saw a liar.
‘I’m not alone,’ I mumbled. ‘I have you.’
She clutched my hand in hers. ‘I don’t know what to do, Soph. I don’t know how to make it better. Please.’ She squeezed my hand. ‘You need to let him in.’ It sounded reasonable, but Millie didn’t know what I knew. She hadn’t seen what I had seen inside the diner. The switchblades. The ruby ring. My father had been feeding me lies my whole life. He wore his mask so carefully I had never thought to look beneath it.
She replaced her hand in mine with the cordless phone. ‘Talk to him,’ she urged. ‘He doesn’t get a lot of time on these calls and he’s been trying you all week, Soph. Please talk to your dad.’
She left, and I looked at the phone in my hand, listening to the faint droning of a man I didn’t really know at all.
‘Soph? It’s Dad. Are you there?’
I opened the locker drawer and took out Evelina’s ring. I had stuck it in my pocket during a moment of madness at the diner. It was the only thing that had made it home with me. Everything else was rubble and ash.
‘Soph? I know you’re there. Can you pick up, please?’
I studied the ring as it glinted in the palm of my hand. The ruby was blood-red. Sempre. But nothing lasts for ever.
‘Come on, Soph.’
I pressed the receiver to my ear. ‘Hello, Vince.’
I caught the end of his sharp inhale. ‘Soph—’
‘Hey, here’s a funny thing,’ I interrupted. ‘I’m a Marino.’
‘I know you’re angry—’
‘And did you know,’ I continued, my voice rising, ‘there was a secret safe in the diner?’
My dad’s breathing quickened, and I could almost feel his panic thundering down the line. ‘Listen, I’ve applied for furlough. I’m going to try and get out so we can—’
‘And did you know,’ I said, my voice rising higher still, ‘that before your Marino family burnt down our livelihood, I found a bunch of Falcone trophies? A switchblade for every unmarked grave, I’d bet.’ I drowned out his answers, getting shriller and louder. ‘Did you know there was a ruby ring in there? Did you know that ring belongs to Felice Falcone’s missing wife? Did you know there’s a list of Falcone targets written in your handwriting? Did you know Angelo Falcone was actually murdered? And did you know that all my life you’ve been one huge fucking liar?’
His reply was lost in the air. I hurled the phone at the wall and it broke, falling to the floor in bits of plastic.
I slammed the ring down on my bedside table. I thought that would have made me feel better, but it didn’t.
But at least now he knew.
Now there were no more lies between us.