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I laugh lightly and run around the island to hug him tightly before bringing the sweater and my luggage into my bedroom, shutting the door behind me.
My room is exactly how I left it, bright and yellow. My whole adulthood, I've tried to create a positive environment for myself. Whether it be through home decorating or academics, I've done everything I could to create something bright to look towards.
I immediately start stripping my clothes and throw them, along with my suitcase, in the closet. I put on my leggings that have holes in the waistband and slip on a t-shirt with my school logo on it, pulling on my warm cardigan over it. Home, finally.
I sit on my bed for a moment. The quilt is patchwork with all of my favorite old t-shirts. Ricky's mom made this for me too a while ago. I need to call her soon. I pick up my phone and see several missed calls from Ricky and his mom, all the first couple of days while I was gone. I shoot her a quick text to let her know that I'm okay and will call her soon.
My room is quiet and I turn on my rain machine to give me comfort. I've had this for years and listen to it while I'm studying or sleeping. It felt so quiet without it. It felt so quiet without a lot of things while I was gone.
It's strange how only a week's time can feel much longer. Given the events that took place during my time away, I'd say it'll make time stretch forever. I don't feel like the same person. I feel like a stranger stepping back into her past.
I plug my laptop in so it can be fully charged when I'm done hanging out with Ricky. This week left me with new knowledge that held no information, so I'm going to find it out on my own.
I walk to the living room and find that Ricky is already on the couch with my tea and popcorn. I smile and sit with him on our old, worn couch. The cushions are so beaten down that the wooden bar beneath them presses into your ass, but I don't care. It's my couch and I'm finally home.
We watch the show in silence for a few minutes, but I see him staring at me periodically. I know he didn't fully buy my story, but he's just giving me rest. Regardless of what's happening, he reads my emotions and knows how to operate around them.
"I'd love nothing more than to sit and chill with you, girl, but it's your birthday and we need to go out tonight. We missed it at midnight."
I want to groan in protest, but we've planned this night for years. No matter how mentally drained I am, I owe him this. I owe myself this.
"Why don't we watch a couple episodes, I finish selecting a few classes online and then we get ready?"
He smiles at me and touches my hand, giving it a tight squeeze.
"Anything you want, birthday girl."
I smile and we finish those episodes. I've had two cups of tea and feel a little jittery, but I made the executive decision to head to my room and lock the door. I need to get some research done to calm my worries. I'd rather be worried about new information than anxious and completely unaware.
I power up my laptop and get on my search engine, immediately typing in my father's name. Several reports pop up, mostly new articles. They stretch all the way back into the late nineties. He's been arrested three times and currently has a warrant out for his arrest. All of his counts are charged with money laundering and drug trafficking, yet not a single report of any homicides.
These fucking assholes only get caught with dirty money and illegal drugs? I keep digging for a homicide report, but give up after an hour goes by. It seems Juan Carlos was last seen in Mexico City. There are countless photos of him, so he's obviously not been too smart to stay hidden. I stare at a picture of him, but can't find much resemblance to myself. Just my coloring mostly.
I decided to Google Dante's infamous name. Numerous reports for El Oscuro pop up, but they're only warrants. Mostly for trafficking drugs and guns, not even much about money laundering. Definitely nothing about homicides.
There are also no photos of him on the internet. Not even a last name, birthday or sighting. The only thing that I can find are reports that he was born in Columbia. No shit.
I scour the internet for nearly two hours, trying to find anything on this man, but coming to dead ends. Reports only show drug busts from his workers and all they can link to him is his fucking street name. He's done an excellent job at keeping out of the spotlight.
It's not really a surprise, he's been quietly watching me since before I was even born. I slam my laptop shut and lay on my bed in frustration. I still have nothing, except now I just have more anger.
I almost hate him more than my father, both of them guilty of being criminals and fucking controlling liars. Liars who have done nothing but control my very life.
I hear a faint buzzing sound and look at my phone, but the screen is black. The buzzing continues and I search around my room for the source. I open the door and call out for Ricky.
"Is that your phone going off?"
He pops out of the hallway, toothbrush in his mouth.
"No, I'm playing music."
I nod and shut the door, still hearing the buzzing. I walk towards my closet and the sound grows louder. Opening up the door, I hear it coming from the suitcase.
What the fuck?
I throw it on my bed and unzip the large pocket, finding a smart phone buzzing on top of clothes in dress bags. The screen lights up and displays the wordsPrivate number. I shouldn't answer this, but it's in the bag that he packed and I'm going to.
"Hello?"
