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"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm in Italy."
"I know that much. Or I hoped you were, since it was the last place your phone pinged."
My shoulders scrunch into my neck. "I forgot you had me on your Life Share app." My dad and I both could follow where our phones were at all times. He must have checked the app when he hadn't heard from me in too long.
"I was worried sick," my dad says. "You were supposed to be back in LA three days ago, after your last work-leg. I tried to call you but you didn't pick up."
"You tried to call me?" I scrunch my face in confusion. "Oh, I bet the cruise ship was too far away from any cell towers."
"Thecruise ship?"
"It's a long story, Dad."
"What are you saying? Why are you in Italy? I called the embassy as soon as I found out you were in a foreign country. At first they brushed me off, saying you were an adult, so they couldn't treat you like a runaway child. But then I explained you weren't answering your phone, andthenit went off entirely!"
"Probably when I jumped into the..." I stop myself. Dad is already in a panic, telling him I jumped into the ocean will send him spiraling. "You reported me missing, that's why the police dragged me to the embassy."
"Are you in trouble? Do you need help?"
"No, everything's fine," I insist.
"Filia, don't leave me in the dark. You're hiding something. You never hide things from me."
Cringing at his pointed question, I push the phone closer to my lips, my voice going soft. "Dad... I sort of got fired from my job."
He inhales through the receiver. "You? How is that even possible? You're the hardest working person I know."
My chest grows tight as sorrow takes hold. I knew he'd say something like that. Sappy Dad mode is torture right now. "It wasn't about hard work. It was social politics." Swallowing a rush of sadness, I keep my voice level. "I'm sorry, Dad. I hate to disappoint you like this. I promise I'll figure something out when I get home."
"Honey, I'm not disappointed. I'm just happy you're okay! But why are you in Italy? Are you stuck, do you need a ticket to fly home? If this is about money––"
"No, no!" My laugh comes out twisted. "If it was about money I'd just ask Marco."
The line goes quiet. "Who is Marco?"
Ah, shit."Marco...um." I didn't mean to mention him. It slipped out. My finger curls on the phone's cord until my knuckle turns white. "Marco is a friend. He's been helping me out."
"A friend you never told me about?"
"That's because I only met him recently." I rock back and forth. "He's really nice, Dad. When I was panicking about losing my job and getting back home, he offered me a place to stay, paid for my meals, just...he's been taking care of me."
"Oh."
I don't know what to make of that simple word. Looking at the police woman who's still staring me down, I sigh. "Dad, can you talk to the embassy, let them know I'm not in danger and remove the report?"
"Sure, yes, but Filia, aren't you coming home? I'm looking now, I see flights to Los Angeles in a few hours. You can hop on one, I'll buy the ticket. Come home, sweety."
He can't see me shaking my head. "Not yet. I need more time."
"Time for what? Time with this Marco guy?"
My hand tightens on the phone. There's barbs in my tone. "Yeah. Exactly."
"Filia, you have a life here. Don't throw it all away for some fling with a stranger."
My jaw tenses as I grit my teeth. "I told you, I lost my job. I don't have anything I have to rush back to."
"You're capable of big things, Filia! Once you come home, I can help you get a new job. A better job! You'll excel at it, just like you always have. You aren't the type to make mistakes, honey. Don't make one now."
