I’m feeling increasingly alone now. I call, but it diverts straight to voicemail.
The world is now tunneling around me. Of all the times for a panic attack, now’s not it. Worse, I can’t be this person, this weakling who reels with a little bit of truth thrown her way.
And it’s Valentino’s truth. Not my dad’s. I have just one side of the story here. Why am I choosing to believe him and not the man who has lovingly raised me for my entire life?
Anger surges, and I get up from where I slumped on the floor.
The phone rings in my hand. The screen reads ‘Tina’—it’s the name I assigned to Valentino’s number, so it won’t look suspicious if someone sees a call or text thread between us.
My heart is in my throat as I rush to answer. Seeing him reaching out battles with the anger inside. A part of me knows he’s not lying, that he’d never lie to me. Which makes the liar my father… I quell the thought and bring the phone to my ear.
“Val,” I say, breathless.
“Naomi. We can’t be talking right now.”
His voice is as hard as ice. I blink and falter.
“What…what do you mean?”
He sighs. “Things have happened.”
“What things?” My voice is escalating.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Val, please. After everything—”
“Stop, Naomi. This is serious.”
“And we aren’t?” Did I shriek?
“That’s not what I meant.”
So…we are serious?
“Please, Val…”
“We have to cool it for some time.”
“Why?” After what we had this weekend, he’s playing hot and cold with me now?
“Your father’s going to be here soon.”
“No. He’s coming home tomorrow—”
“He isn’t. In fact, he’s turning up right now.”
Indeed, there’s the sound of a car drawing up in front of the house.
“I have to go,” he says. “We can’t be meeting anymore.”
I can’t get in a word before he’s cut the call. I’m numb for a second, then a surge of rage makes me throw the phone at the window. Pathetic, because neither the glass nor the phone breaks.
The front door closing snaps me out of the maelstrom of misery trying to take hold inside of me.