The next morning, my iPhone woke me with a jolt. Groggy from a long deep sleep my body needed all week, it took me a few moments to realize my terrible blunder. In horror, I saw my father’s name flashing on my iPhone screen. Too terrified to do anything, I stared at the screen in shock, not even tapping the ignore button, just staring at the screen while it rang.

As soon as the call was sent to voicemail, I opened my phone to find my father had already called me 36 times that morning. 36 times. The first call was at 5:12 AM. My heart leapt out of my throat when I saw that it was already 12:19 PM. I’d missed morning prep for brunch. Brunch had started nineteen minutes ago.

How could I have been so irresponsible?

In my exhaustion, I had slept right through my alarm. I had never overslept before in my life, not even a single day in the first weeks after my mom had left. She had been my alarm clock for school. When I woke myself up naturally without the need for a clock or a mother, I comforted myself that there was one less thing I needed my mom for.

Every morning, I’d wake Joseph up, who as a child, was not a morning person. It took fifteen minutes of shaking him, turning on the lights, and finally splashing water on his face to get him out of bed. He, a couple years younger than me, needed a mother, and I stepped in as best I could to fill that role.

Panic rose up from the stomach into my chest as I looked at how many voicemails my father had left. There was no way I could handle listening to his disappointment and betrayal that would surely be in his voice. My mind jumbled, trying to figure out how to fix the situation.

Joseph had sent me a slew of texts. The first one at 5:20 AM.

-Where R U?-

-Dad is pissed!-

-Jas, R U ok?-

-I’m getting worried…-

-What are you doing???-

-WTF. You’re freaking me out. You ok?-

-Text me ur ok!-

-Hellooooo!!!-

Feeling terrible for lying to my dad and little brother, I stopped scrolling through Joseph’s texts. They were worried about me, probably thinking I was dead somewhere in a ditch. I’d never spent a night away from home. As a little girl, I adamantly refused the invites for sleepovers, too worried about who would make breakfast for my dad and brother in the morning.

Who would wake Joseph up? Who would make my father’s espresso in the morning? Who would make sure Joseph was dressed properly for the weather?

I tapped my screen to text my little brother back. Suddenly, my phone rang again. As if it had burst into flames, I threw it down onto the comforter still staring at the screen: DAD.

My dad was most likely worried and upset, but since those were complex emotions, he would just be furious.

Alex woke up just then, rubbing his eyes and groaning. “What’s going on? Who keeps calling?”

Abruptly mute, I just pointed to the phone with my hand clasped around my mouth. Alex looked at the screen: DAD. His eyes popped open, fully awake. He sat up with a resolute look on his face. “Just tell your dad I will take you home right away.” My phone continued to ring, each ring intensifying my anxiety. My nausea felt like it would soon turn into actual vomiting. Alex picked up the phone and handed it to me. “Also, tell him I need to talk to him, man to man.”

What was Alex talking about? Talk to my father? That definitely could not happen.

Alex’s ridiculousness snapped me back to reality. I grabbed the phone and answered. I strained my voice to sound nonplussed. “Hello? Dad?”

My dad’s bellowing voice thundered into my ear. “Where the hell are you? Joseph told me you were sick and asleep in your room. But guess what?” I cringed at his rhetorical question. “You weren’t in your room this morning.”

“Dad…” I stammered.

My father continued hammering into my ear. “Do you know how worried I’ve been all morning? Do you know how many times I’ve called Shands Hospital? Every hour! Asking if you’re there: dead, unconscious, or maimed!”

When he took a breath, I finally edged in a few words. “Dad, I was feeling better after a good night’s sleep so I got up early for a run.”

He grumbled, “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

"I had my phone on ‘Do Not Disturb.' I hate being interrupted when I'm running. I just forgot to turn it back off."

My father grunted into the phone. I knew my father’s grunts well. This grunt meant, “Oh, okay.”

To add believability to my lie, I casually added another one, “Is everything okay? Joseph told you I’d be staying home today, right? I’m feeling better, but I just don’t want to get anyone else sick at the restaurant.”

I could hear as my father shifted positions on the phone. He was most likely pacing in his den. “Yes. Everything is okay. Your brother didn’t tell me that.”

“Ok. I’m just at CVS right now to pick up some maxi pads. Do you need anything?” At the mention of womanly troubles, my father always retreated quickly.

On cue, my father mumbled into the phone, “No. See you at home.”

As soon as my father was off the line, I scrambled out of bed hastily, trying my best to ignore Alex’s irate expression. Retracing my steps from last night, I searched for my clothes. I picked up my bra and tank top in the hallway. Alex followed behind me, fuming. “When are you going to start standing up for yourself?”

Clasping my bra, I did my best to hold in my own simmering anger. Coolly, I responded, “It’s not the time to talk about this.” I continued on the search for my clothes.

Alex stepped in front of me, grabbing my black work pants off the living room floor before I could get to them. “How long do you think you can go on like this? Working yourself to death? Hiding from your father that fact that you’re in college?”

Ripping my pants from his grip, I turned away from. “Until I graduate.”

Alex flung his hands in the air in frustration. “That is ridiculous!”

I snatched up one of my socks that was somehow dangling from a ceiling fan blade. "You don't understand the entire situation, Alex. You don't know my father."

Alex talked over me, determined to get out whatever was on his mind. “And only spending less than an hour a day with each other? Seriously, is that all you can ever give me? What kind of relationship is that?”

I saw my other sock next to the coffee table. Leaning down to pick it up, I said, “That’s all I can give you right now.” I scanned the room for my shoes. “And you knew what you were getting into, Alex.”

He stepped around to face me. The fury in his eyes washed over with calm. “That was before I fell in love with you.”

I released a frustrated sigh. “I love you too.”

He lifted my chin with his hand. “But I want more.”

He wanted more? Couldn’t he see I was doing the best I could to make everyone happy? How could I give more to anyone?

I pushed away his hand and went back to getting dressed. “I want more too, but you don’t understand. There is no way I can be independent right now. I have to follow what my father says. He’s the one who puts a roof over my head and food in my stomach.”

Alex folded his arms defiantly. “That doesn’t mean he can rule you like he does.”

Alex’s arrogant opinion annoyed me. “It does mean that. He gives me a car to drive and money to spend.”

“He forces you to work for him. Can’t you see how unfair that is?”

“He is not forcing me, Alex! You have no idea what my father has gone through to take care of us. El Buey is part of our family’s very fabric. I care about the restaurant and the family business.” The elevated volume of my voice surprised me, but I was livid. “El Buey isn’t some cute mom and pop restaurant. It’s Michelin starred! Do you even know what that means?”

Alex stormed out of the living room into his bedroom. “No! I don’t know what the means! Michelin? Like the tires? That doesn’t make any sense!”

I bit my tongue. There was no use in fueling the fire of this fight. I knew Alex meant well, but he needed to understand his meddling in my family affairs was not going to make things better for anyone. There was so much more texture to our family’s dynamics than what he was seeing on the surface and there was no time to explain it to him.

We rode in silence on the way to my house. Alex’s forehead was creased with irritation. Wanting to just get home as quickly as possible to deal with my dad, I ignored him. All I needed Alex to do at that moment was get me home.

In my head, I rehearsed the lie I would tell my father if he asked me any more questions about last night and that morning, repeating my alibi over and over.

When we pulled up to my house, Alex parked in the driveway. I panicked, looking at each of the front windows of our house for my father’s face. “What are you doing?”

Alex opened his car door gruffly. “I’m finally going to introduce myself to your father as your boyfriend.” I watched in dread as Alex made his way up the driveway to our front door.