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Once I finally wake up, she’s already gone to work a few hours early, to play with some baby goat that got in whilst we were in Belgrade, and looking at the time I realize I’m almost late for mine. Turning around, I see that Ronan left me a note on her pillow:
I’m sorry I couldn’t wake with you, you can blame
that on work. There’s a breakfast burrito for you in the fridge.
Spare key is in the pink pot with the biggest cactus, take it.
Lock up when you leave, and use ittonightto get in.
I get off work at 8.
And that’s exactly what I do. The store is actually doing amazing. I hired a couple of teens to work in the front, and they have sold over thirty guitars over the course of 10 days. And some drum sets too! Big boy money is incoming for all of us. I am happy day in - day out. The only thing bothering me is sneaking around we have to go back to, once the parents return to Oaks Creek.
Tiana is away, Jensen went back to boarding school, leaving his boy-toy behind the closed gates, but he supports us anyway. My dad would love to see Ronan and I hanging out, though I don’t know how he would feel about the nature of our relationship if he ever found out. Our culture cares only about blood relations, so I guess he wouldn’t be upset about us being together, since we share no DNA. He is really, really big on young love, so I guess we would have his support too.
The only one we are actually hiding from is her vile mother. And as if she knew something was up, she calls Ronan every fucking day, even though she ran her away. I feel like she calls her just to spite her, or to spit in her face. I can’t ask my dad if they resolved their issues once we left, but their relationship seems a few degrees colder now.
We all had dinner together twice since they came back, and the second time was way worse. Two days ago Christine had told us a wonderful story, about her ex husband, or should I say the reason he left.
The explanation for her behavior at the villa. She keptberatingRonan, saying she was too annoying of a child to be around, so he couldn’t take it more than the first few years of her life.
I noticed the change in my dad once she was done talking. He was dumbfounded, so to say, looking at her with such disappointment, as if he couldn’t believe she is acting like thisagain. Like she promised to change but didn’t, which proved to me that this was really serious in his eyes too. He is not having it. He got up, kissedRonan’shead, apologized for the whole situation and walked away, leaving Christine to run after him.
Later that night he called me to apologize again, but it wasn’t his place to apologize. I still feel like he takes too much credit for Christine’s behavior and I do not like it, not one bit. I told him to rethink his marriage, since there were some more uncomfortable situations he wasn’t aware of, and I promised to elaborate soon. Before hanging up he told me he is already questioning the last few years of his life. The disappointment in his voice always breaks me. We rarely heard it growing up, so we all know how meaningful it is. He falls for the first time in the last 18 years, and the woman turns out to be a lying narcissist.
Ronan has spent every moment since that dinner in bed, crying. The amount of guilt she feels is insane, and there is no way for me to prove to her that she, as a child, couldn’t have made a grown man leave.
***
She is lying on my sofa, sniffling, watchingThe Notebook.Something in my chest aches seeing her like that. I would do anything, and I literally mean anything, to take her pain away. Dropping my eyes back to the cutting board, an interesting idea pops into my head.
“Do you want us to find him?” I ask her.
“Find who?” She lifts her gaze to me, stopping the movie.
“Your dad. We find him and you get to ask him everything you want to know. You deserve that.”
“I don’t know. He left already. That’s a clear sign that he does not want to talk,” she scrunches her nose.
“We don’t know that. You don’t know that, Ljubavi.” I say, cupping her cheek.
“I… I only know what my mother told me.” Her eyes find me, and she looks even more lost. Knowing her mother, it’s all lies.
“Okay. So, shall we do this?” I grab the laptop and lean back.
“Yeah,” wiping her nose, she snuggles close to me.
We start by brushing through social media first, and since she doesn’t have Facebook anymore, we use mine.
Peter Robinson, the father of Ronan Robinson. As I process his name, I realize this is the first time I’ve heard her surname and shame surges through my veins. Ronan Robinson,Rory,that’s where it comes from. I smile to myself, kissing her hair.
There are A LOT of Peter Robinsons on Facebook, but once limited to Tempe, Arizona, there’s only 20. We are looking for a guy in his early forties, since he is younger than Christine. He has blonde hair and green eyes, he’s big and tall, or that’s what her kid brain remembers. This should be easy.
***
It’s not easy.
Most of these men have basically no photos of themselves on their profiles. I am pretty sure we had three of them with a Jason Momoa profile picture.
