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I want to help. I don't want to encourage these people. The muscles in my stomach are tightening. I'm walking a tightrope as I open the door, then pull the blinds over the window. Ken will understand my need for privacy.
“Christ.” My father’s eyes flutter closed, his head falling back as soon as he realizes it’s me. “I don’t know what I expected, although it definitely wasn’t you.”
My resolve breaks at the sight of him and the sound of his frustration. Everything I was thinking of saying, all the measured calm words, they’re nothing but an afterthought. “Nice to see you too, but it doesn’t appear like you’re having that great of a time.” I pause, walking around the desk to be right in front of him. “What did you think you would accomplish by showing up here?”
It’s like we’re on some twisted crime show, only he's sitting on the wrong side of the desk—and he's restrained, like the criminal. “Isn’t it bad enough that you lost your job? Now you show back up and start spouting off shit and making a scene?”
His eyes fly open. “You know?”
“Yes, I’ve known for days.” Maybe I shouldn’t have said it that way, nonetheless at least it’s out. “And I don’t care if you’re upset. I was worried about you and needed answers. Little did I know there is much more that I need to worry about.”
He only sighs. “I don't need to be lectured.”
Funny. I expected him to be this blubbering, slurring mess, but he's as straight and sober as I can remember ever seeing him. There are dark circles under his eyes, but the eyes themselves aren't bloodshot. They're clear, focused. He even shaved today. He still looks unhealthy—he's lost weight, his skin is ashen, and his clothes are starting to bag on him. Thankfully, he's sober. However, more than anything… he’s tired and at his wit's end.
My heart hurts for him. That's what leaves a tremble in my voice. “Dad. I know… I know you’re trying to do everything you can to bring justice to Mom, but this has to stop.”
“How?” There's as much pain in his voice as in mine. “How do I stop myself? Because trust me, baby, I would love for this to end. I just… I need somebody to tell me how to overcome it, since I can't do it. I can't. I know your mom would want me to. Only I can't. Every time I consider letting it go, this voice at the back of my head reminds me that someone is getting away with all of this.”
“There are other ways to do this. But coming here? Accusing people?”
“I had to shake them up somehow.”
I can't believe I'm about to say this. But to say anything else would be disingenuous and might do more harm than good. It's challenging to go against what good sense tells me I should do.
I've been heeding to good sense for too long, anyway. And look where it got me.
“Listen to me,” I whisper. “If you honestly think somebody here covered up what happened to Mom, do you think the best thing to do is put the attention on yourself? To make a scene? Now more people are going to be asking questions.”
“No,” he scoffs. “They’ll dismiss it and call me a joke. Like they have been for forever.”
“I understand, though I need you to think with your head and not your heart. For your own safety.”
His gaze tone turns accusingly, “You're not going to tell me I’m out of my mind?”
“I can’t possibly tell you that you’re crazy, not even if it feels that way. You’re entitled to feel how you want to feel. All I have to say is if what you're saying is true, then you need to be careful. Not draw attention or make a scene. I want to help you however I can.”
“I wish I could believe that,” he murmurs before sighing in that ‘disappointed dad’ way. “There’s no point in lying, Bianca. We both know that's not true.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.
“Don't we?”
“You're going to have to stop speaking in riddles.”
“I know. I know about everything.”
Like a guilty child, immediately, my thoughts go to the baby as guilt threatens to consume me. I grip the edge of the desk to balance myself while my knees threaten to crumble beneath me. “What? How could you know about that?”
His eyebrows shoot up so far, so fast, they look like they want to leave his head. “He didn't tell you? I thought for sure that was why you didn't come home.”
Straightaway I know we’re talking about two different things. Now I'm more puzzled than ever. “If you're referring to Callum, he told me nothing. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Huh. I wonder why...” He shrugs like it doesn't matter anyway. “Your old man made a fool of himself, again. I was certain the asshole would tell you right away. Surely he’d never miss the opportunity to make me look like an idiot.”
