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Concern laces Scarlett’s response. “Oh no. Is everything okay?”
“It’s just a temporary thing, I hope. My dad found out about me getting some money from Ray and showed up at my house. A fight broke out between Eric and my dad, and I just need to take a breather,” I say.
Scarlett’s tone softens. “Don’t worry about work. Take all the time you need. I’ll manage here, and you can update me when you’re ready.”
“Thank you.”
The weight of the world seems to press down on me as I hang up the phone. Eric tightens his arms around me, pulling me closer, his silent presence a comforting reminder that I’m not alone in this storm.
I lean my head against his chest, my fingers tracing aimless patterns on his shirt. “Eric,” I whisper, my voice heavy with uncertainty, “do you think I’m making the right choice, taking a day off?”
Eric gently tilts my chin up to meet his gaze. His warm blue eyes hold nothing but unwavering support. “Hailey, it’s been a rough week. You deserve a break.”
I nod, but even with his reassurance, doubt gnaws at the edges of my mind. I have always been the one who keeps everything together, who pushes through whatever life throws my way. Now, I feel like I am falling apart.
“Don’t you need to go to work?” I ask, my voice still quivering.
He sighs, running a hand through his tousled hair, clearly torn between his responsibilities and his concern for me. “I do,” he admits. “I’m not able to call off this week.”
I nod, understanding the practicality of his situation. “I’ll be okay here,” I assure him, though my confidence wavers.
“You sure?” Eric asks one more time, his eyes searching mine for any sign of doubt.
“Yes,” I say, mustering as much conviction as I can. I know I have to face the turmoil in my life head-on, and this is a moment to prove it to myself.
With a tender kiss on my forehead, Eric reluctantly heads toward the door. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“I will,” I say, watching him go, a mixture of emotions churning inside me.
* * *
Scrolling through my phone,I smile at the funny videos and cute photos of Scarlett on social media. I tap her name, sending her a message.
Me
Hey, dinner Thursday?
I look at the clock and notice it’s already 3 PM. My gosh, it felt like 6 AM was five minutes ago.
While waiting for Scar to respond, I go to exit the message app when I see my dad’s old texts underneath hers. With a shaky thumb, I tap them open and scroll all the way from the beginning, reading everything he’s ever said to me, recalling where I was and what I was doing during each message he sent.
Dad
I hate you and your mother, go to hell.
My dad’s hurtful words echoed as I diligently wiped down the coffee-stained tables at work. Customers walked past, oblivious to the sadness inside me as I discreetly checked my phone.
Dad
Do I really have to pay child support just to have a relationship with you? That’s fucked up.
His hateful words flashed across my screen while I sat at my mom’s table with her and Ray. I chose not to react, keeping these hurtful messages to myself.
Dad
What do I need to do to fix our relationship?
Another message while I was in the tub, bubbles all around, and a fruity drink in hand, my attempt to escape the stress of work overshadowed by the ongoing emotional turmoil caused by my dad’s verbal abuse.
