Page 5 of Culmination
Of the man I once loved and thought he felt the same of me.
A sinister—albeit alarmingly charming—smile spreads across his face as he brings his hands together, steepling his index fingers, watching me with hawklike eyes.
“Hello, Gabriella. I’ve been expecting you.”
His emphasis on the second-to-last word doesn’t escape my attention.
Without thinking, I move my hands to my belly, my fingers crossing protectively over my middle.
His lips turn downward at my motion. “And I hear you’re expecting as well.”
And just like before, my world goes black.
“GABRIELLA.”
The sound of my name echoes from somewhere in the recesses of my mind, slowly awakening me. Instead of the gray Chicago sky, when I open my eyes, I see that same blue-tinted world that surrounded my mom when I dreamt of her before. Only this time, it’s a different voice. It’s not my mom.
It’s my dad.
It has to be, even though I haven’t heard that voice in so long. I’m so desperate to believe it’s my father that I barely notice he’s calling me by my full name, not his usual sweet Brie nickname.
“Daddy?”
I can hardly believe my eyes when they lock in on him watching me from a mere ten feet away. The vision of him is my favorite, the one I always have when I’m thinking of him. He’s dressed in a dark-gray pinstripe suit with a handkerchief in the suit pocket. Pink, of course—courtesy of me. The hat adorning his head reminds me of a 1940s gangster, which was the exact look he was going for.
The memory hits me square in the chest, so hard that I feel as if the wind’s been knocked out of me. Dad wore that very suit the first time he took us to Philadelphia and to visit the prison. He didn’t wear the suit to the penitentiary; Mom put a nix on that. But when we went out that evening to my first Broadway show,The Newsies, he brought out his inner Capone. Well, at least he tried.
In hindsight, I wonder if he knew exactly who he was working for at the time.
A ringing sound from off in the distance jars me from my thoughts. I glance up and see my father watching me with panicked eyes. It’s a look I’ve never seen on him before, and it chills me to the bone.
“You’re not safe,” he insists, his throaty whisper echoing all around us. “You must wake up.”
Ignoring his warning, I shake my head and attempt to take a step closer to him, only to find some sort of invisible barrier keeping me from moving forward. Undeterred, I stretch my arms out towards him, begging for him to come closer. Though this may be just a dream, I want his arms around me. I want to feel the protective cocoon of my daddy’s arms, even for a stolen moment that isn’t real.
Just as I think he’s going to reach me, his image flickers. His eyes widen and he furiously shakes his head as he begins to fade away.
“No!” I shout. “Don’t leave me, Daddy. I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t understand any of it.”
“I know, baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
His chant continues until he disappears completely from my sight. Tears spill over onto my cheeks and evaporate into plumes as soon as they hit my skin.
I hate this place, whatever in-between my subconscious brings me to. I vow never to dream again.
I vow…
My eyes grow tired, and I can no longer keep them open. “Daddy…”
“Gabriella.” There’s a short pause. Then the voice becomes more alarmed. The words, “I’m so sorry. So sorry,” resound over and over again.
It’s the same chant from my dream, but it’s different somehow. This time, the voice is less ethereal. It’s deeper, gravelly, and I realize that someone is holding me. My dream father couldn’t reach me, but here, in the real world, someone has scooped me up and keeps me in his lap as if to take away all the pain.
Rafe must’ve found me. I sigh, sinking into his tight embrace. As his hand comes to the side of my head, he tucks me close to his chest, rocking back and forth.
“I’m so sorry, Gabriella.” His voice is a constant whisper with traces of agony, regret, and something else.
Longing.
