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I remember if I can make it onto that plane, survive the flight, that the arms waiting for me are strong, loving, and all mine.
I use my memories of our first kiss, of the first time I saw her again, of the last time I saw her to help me put one foot in front of the other to get on that plane so I can get back to her. And then I figure out what the fuck I'm going to do.
38
* * *
Langley, VA
We’ve been at the CIA headquarters now for more than twenty-four hours. My mother is beside herself. She has screamed, begged, cajoled, all to no avail. We haven’t been able to see my father.
Until now.
They have taken us back one by one. We haven’t been allowed to talk to each other after our meeting with him. I agreed to go last.
They said once we are all done, we will be able to see each other and leave.
It’s all so strange. His lawyer says he's not under arrest, but he can’t leave with us. Addie is in with him now, while I'm sitting here in this brightly lit room with comfortable chairs—an attempt to make it seem welcoming—by myself, coming out of my skin with anxiety.
Because I know Anthony is safe with Rabea, the only other thought that permeates my brain besides this disaster with my father is Dean.
I haven’t heard from him again. I'm confused and worried. He sounded distracted when we talked. I hate that we’re not together right now. I really do need him. But I can also sense that he needs me. I haven’t ever been a particularly romantic person. But my relationship with Dean seems to transcend all of the definitions I ever placed on my heart.
I don’t know how to define what he means to me other than by its vastness. And then I can only say that the depth and breadth of my love for him is fathomless. He's a part of me. We have always been able to see past the exterior. See past what everyone else sees when they look at us, and just see the human heart beating in time to our self-doubt, our worry, and our brilliance.
I know without a doubt that as long as he draws breaths, Dean is the only person I want to navigate through this messy journey we call life with.
I turn my phone over again and call him one more time, it goes straight to voicemail. I don’t bother leaving a message. It would be the same as the others I’ve left today.
I’m just slipping my phone back in my purse when the door opens and Agent Walker walks in.
She was with the group that brought my father in. I saw her briefly when we arrived, but I haven’t seen her again since.
“Ms. Dennis, I'm here to take you to your father. Your sister, Adelaide, is done and is in a room with your mother and Lillian. When you’re done with your father, we will take you to them, and you will be escorted out of the building.”
She's a striking woman, beautiful skin a shade darker than my mother’s milk chocolate complexion. Her eyes, mouth, nose, and cheekbones all work in perfect harmony to make her look like a Nubian goddess. Those eyes, though, are completely devoid of any warmth as she speaks with me.
I simply nod, and we start to walk out of the room.
“Agent Walker, why are you here?” I ask as we enter the hallway.
“I’m on the task force that has been looking for your father,” she responds shortly.
“Yes, but you’re with the FBI. Why are you at the CIA headquarters?”
She stops walking and puts a hand on my arm to stop my progress. She looks at me, and for the first time since our brief acquaintance I see her smile.
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” And then she winks at me and starts to walk again.
I wish I could muster some amusement at her response.
“That’s really helpful,” I mumble.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Dennis. Your father will tell you everything he can. I'm sure you’ll understand perfectly then.”
When we reach the end of the hallway, she turns to me once more. “Are you ready?”
I nod, but I know nothing could ever make me feel ready for what’s about to happen.
