Twist (Off Balance Book 4)

by Lucia Franco

  My phone beeped and I pulled it away to look at the screen. Dad’s Cell.

  "Hey, Dad’s calling me. I gotta take this."

  "Oh, yeah it's cool, grab it. Just wanted to tell you I'm rooting for you. You're strong, Sis. You got this. I have an appointment to be tested to see if we're a match. Anything you need, even if it's just to talk or curse me out, hit me up. I'm your guy."

  A sad giggle rolled off my lips. A tear slipped this time. "Thanks, Xavier. We'll talk later?"

  "Later, little sis."

  I clicked over.

  "Hey, Dad."

  "Sweetheart, why haven't I heard from you? I've been waiting all day."

  "Because you already know," I responded quickly. Turns out he’d known before I did. He knew what I was walking into. "What else is there to talk about? You know everything."

  Dad was silent for a moment. "You're upset with me."

  "Yeah, a little. You should've told me. At least you could've prepared me. I've been in a state of shock ever since this afternoon."

  "I wanted to, believe me, but I felt the doctors should be the ones to deliver the diagnosis so they could better explain." He paused, then said, "I was also worried you might panic and not show up."

  I mused over his words. "I guess you have a point. I wouldn't have not shown up, but it would've been nice not to be blindsided either."

  "I truly am sorry," he said, his voice full of regret. "Is that why I haven't heard from you?"

  "Yes and no. I'm just all over the place right now with my thoughts, trying to figure out how I got to this point. Dad?" Emotion clogged my throat, making my voice sound shaky.

  "Yes?"

  Tears filled my eyes and I broke down faster than I could stop it. "I'm scared." The confession was a shattered whisper on my lips. My breathing deepened and I started crying. "I'm really scared. I don't want to die."

  "Oh, sweetie." His voice broke, which only upset me further. "I'll be there first thing in the morning. Please don't cry. I promise everything will be okay."

  "But that’s the thing." I sniffled. "You don't know if it will be okay. No one knows. My life is in limbo now and it's terrifying. For the first time in my life, I'm seriously petrified of what's to come. I can taste the fear and it's suffocating me."

  "Adrianna, I'll do everything in my power to help you." Dad drove his words home with absolution. I cried harder at the struggles I was facing. My future was now—and would forever be—an uphill battle. "You just have to be strong like you've always been. Keep pushing on. Don't let today affect tomorrow. Take your medicine and focus on gymnastics. I'll handle the rest. You will have everything you need. I can promise that."

  "You’re not going to tell me to give up the sport?"

  "Sweetheart, I know how much it means to you, and I spoke in depth with Dr. Kozol. It's not unheard of for a pro athlete to still compete with illnesses like yours. It's rare, but not impossible. You'll have to work with him and his team. And you'll have to be completely open and honest about everything. No more pushing through the pain."

  "I thought I was just overworked. It comes with the territory of training elite. I thought nothing of it."

  I sniffled, trying to pull back my emotions. On top of everything, the pain I had been feeling, the nausea and blood, Dr. Kozol informed me was due to a kidney infection. It was causing one of my kidneys to swell. My body was failing me, and failing me fast.

  "How could I be this sick and not know it?"

  "Adrianna, you can live a healthy, full life. Yes, there will be complications, but there are also precautions you can take to prevent them, or at the very least, slow them down."

  I exhaled a heavy breath, then let it all out and told my dad what I'd read.

  "Don't read any of that garbage on the internet. I should have every form of cancer known to man if it were true. In fact, I should be six feet under rotting away." He paused. "You know, if you decide you want to come home for a little while to take a break, you can do that."

  I shook my head as if he could see me. "No, that would only put me behind and I'm too close to risk that. Thanks, though."

  "I'm not sure you're aware, but with your Amex Black Card, you have a personal concierge on call twenty-four seven. They're paid to do whatever you want and get whatever you need—as long as it’s within legal parameters, of course."

  I was aware of that, but I’d never used the service before.

  I wiped away my lingering tears with the back of my hand.

  "You don't have to come tomorrow. I'll be okay."

  "I'll be there," he insisted.

  I softened. "It's okay, Dad. You'll be bored. I have back-to-back practice the next few days anyway, and then I leave for competition. I'll hardly have time to see you or talk to you."

  "I'll be at your competition, then. If that's the only time I can see you, then I'll be there."

  Damn it. The tears started up again. "Okay." My voice sounded so small.

  "Sweetie," he murmured, "don't cry. We'll get through this together."

  "I love you, Dad."

  "Love you too."

  I drew in a deep breath and attempted to shelve my emotions again. "Dad? Please, don't tell anyone else. Family is one thing, but no one else."

  "Adrianna, your coaches need to know."

  I sat up straight. "No."

  "Adri—"

  "Dad, no. I don't want them to know. They’d make me change my training schedule again. I've come too far for that."

  Dad was quiet for a long minute. "They need to know you're starting dialysis."

  I gasped, my jaw hung open. "No, I'm not. I'm not doing dialysis right now." Anger dried up my tears. "The trials are right around the corner, and the Olympics only last like two months from start to finish after that. I'll begin treatment once it's over."

  His voice hardened. "Use your brain, Adrianna. You don't have the time to wait to start treatment. I've already made the appointment for you. You're going."

  My nostrils flared. "Dad!"

  "Adrianna." He said my name with frustration. "I will not lose you. You'll be at that appointment whether you want to or not. How are you going to enjoy being a gymnast if you're dead?"

  I slammed my mouth shut, my teeth grinding together.

  That was heartless.

  "Dad, please." My voice was low, broken, and the stupid tears were back. "It's only a few months. I can handle a few more months. After everything I read online, if I start now, I won't be able to compete. I'll lose everything I've worked for because I won't have the strength to continue. I'll be even sicker. Please, I'm begging you to just give me more time."

  "Sweetie, you simply don't have the time."

  I swallowed hard and clenched my eyes shut. I hated that he was right.

  "Please." I cried softly. "I'll do anything you want as soon as I know about the Olympics." We were both quiet for a long moment. "Please, Dad, please give me a little more time."

  His voice was low, grim. "Adrianna, I just can't allow you to wait."

  Tears were streaming down my cheeks. "Dad, a few more months won't hurt. I'll go to the doctor every week if you want me to instead of every three weeks just for a checkup. I'll bring a doctor to meets with me. Please don't take my gymnastics dream away from me. In a couple of months I'll have to say goodbye forever. Don't make me say it now, because that's what you'd be doing if I start dialysis."

  I was crying uncontrollably. All I needed was a few more months and then I would give myself up to the diseases and do whatever my dad and my new team of doctors wanted me to do. Until then, this was all that I was asking for. I would be fine until then. I knew I would.

  Dad let out a heavy breath while I held mine. "I don't think this is a good idea."

  "If I feel like I've taken a turn for the worse, I'll call you and tell you. I'll go to the doctor. Anything, just don't make me start treatment now." I paused when I thought about when the Olympic Trials were. "I just need a few more months, that's all I'm
asking for. It won't make that big of a deal if I take my medicine and go to my checkups. Plus, by then, I'll know if I made the team or not. Just give me a little more time."

  "Adrianna, sweetheart…" I could tell he was caving. "So much can happen in two months."

  "Nothing is going to happen. We wouldn't even be having this conversation if I hadn't gone to the doctor."

  "But you did go and it changes everything. Your health is at risk." I heard the sound of ice clinking against a glass like he was taking a sip of his drink—drifted across the line. "I know what gymnastics means to you and I don't want to take it away, but as your parent, I'm responsible for your well-being."

  "Dad, please, I'm begging you."

  He groaned like he was torn. "If anything changes, or you need to talk, you better call me. I don't care if it's the middle of the night or if you already called fifteen times, just call me."

  Hope surged through me. I sniffled. "Does this mean you'll let me wait to start treatment?"

  He hesitated. I could tell he wasn't happy about this. "I don't like this idea, but I'd do anything for you, Adrianna. I hope you know that. You have a long road ahead of you. I just want to see you get well and keep you happy." I smiled sadly to myself. "Keep your head held high," he said, but he didn't seem too sure of himself.

  My head was a messy configuration of emotions that I couldn't compartmentalize like I typically was able to. It was too much at once, but he was right. I needed to keep my head held high and focused. I'd gotten my way but needed a subject change before he changed his mind.

  "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Dad!" He chuckled and it loosened the tightness in my chest. "So, um, not to change the subject, but I have a question about Mom."

  "Your mother isn't—"

  "No. I mean my real mom. Sophia."

  Clearing his throat, he seemed caught off guard. "Oh? What did you want to know?"

  I'd have to start asking family if they were open and willing to match test for me, otherwise I would end up on a long list of hopefuls and possibly never get a donor.

  "How did you meet her?"

  He let out a sound somewhere between a huff and a scoff. "Are you sure you want to have this conversation right now?"

  "Why not? My life is already shit. What's one more thing?"

  He sighed deeply into the phone. I imagined he was rubbing his forehead. "She was my assistant."

  "Was she legal?"

  "She'd just turned eighteen when she had you."

  So, no, she wasn't. I’d had a weird feeling she was young after I’d met her, but I hadn’t expected her to be that young.

  "Did you love her?"

  "Love…it's a tricky thing."

  I laughed under my breath. Didn't I know that.

  "Do you still talk to her?"

  Silence stretched for such a long moment to the point I thought he hung up. Just as I was about to call his name, he spoke. "Yes, I do."

  "How often?"

  "Quite often, actually."

  I rubbed the ache in my chest. Judgment and distrust blackened my vision as all the lies I'd been told over the years flashed through my head.

  "How did she end up in your office that day when I came to see you? Before that when I asked about her, you told me you didn't talk to her."

  "It's a long story, but I'll sum it up for you. After you were born, I foolishly thought we all could work out joint custody since it'd be in the best interest for you, but I should've known better." Dad’s voice trailed away like he was deep in memory. "Sophia was young and poor with nowhere to live, and Joy used that against her to keep her out of your life. Sophia begged me not to take you from her…and I couldn't. It takes a selfish person to deny someone their child. So, I worked with her as much as I could and lied to Joy about it. My arrangement with Sophia went on for years until Joy hired a private investigator to keep tabs on me. Joy built a fictitious case against her, insisting she was mentally unstable."

  My brows rose. This shit just got better and better. To our rich, little island, we were the picture-perfect family. Behind closed doors, we were all living double lives.

  Two

  "What?" I said. My voice elevated to a shocking level. "What was she trying to prove?"

  "I tried to reason with Joy and asked her to put herself in Sophia's shoes and pretend it was Xavier. You know what she said? 'I feel no pity for the whore you cheated on me with.' That’s when I knew it would never be easy. In order for Joy to stop the harassment, I gave her the one thing I knew would placate her. Money. Reluctantly, I gifted Joy for her selflessness, but also to act like a mother to you. I thought everything would be okay, but it was far from that."

  Gifted. "You mean you paid her off." I scoffed to myself at the sheer ignorance of it. "You paid off your own wife."

  "Sophia fell into a terrible state of postpartum depression after you were born. It lasted a long time." Dad ignored my comment. "I felt guilty, like it was all my doing. When I stopped seeing her, she became irrational, highly unstable, and on top of her sister's death, she threatened to run off with you and disappear. I knew she loved you dearly, but I couldn’t chance that. I told her if she wanted to seek mental health treatment that I'd pay for it, which I did. I gave her a fully furnished condo once she was out of the inpatient facility, and money to live on so she didn't have to worry. She tried to refuse both and fought me over it because she saw it as payment for you. I assured her it wasn't like that." Dad was quiet for a moment. "During this time, I became a total disaster. My business took a huge hit, I was drinking heavily, and I had a child with someone who wasn't my wife but I was madly in love with. I wanted a divorce. Joy knew that and used whatever she could to her advantage. She insisted I file for full custody so we could give you a healthy and stable home with your brother. She was so sincere…and I believed her. I just never expected Joy to exploit my affair or to use my child for her gain."

  I frowned, feeling so low inside. What a bittersweet tragedy my birth caused. It wasn't a happy occasion like the new life of a child should be. It was one full of misery and adultery. I was unwelcomed, and that only further solidified the isolation I fought deep inside throughout my childhood.

  "Sophia and I started talking again once she was better." His voice was quiet.

  "How long ago was that?"

  "Oh, I'd say over ten years ago. At least."

  My brows shot up. "What!" I yelled into the phone. "Over ten years ago? Is that why Joy is the way she is? I'm assuming she found out."

  "She didn't find out until a couple of years ago actually. That's when things started to get really tense between us. She hired another private investigator."

  "Sounds like she has them on standby."

  "She does. It's her weapon of choice. She loves collecting evidence that would ruin someone." He took a sip of his drink again judging by the sound of the ice clinking against the glass. "Sophia and I, we've always had this connection that Joy could never break, no matter how hard she tried. I love Sophia and have loved her since the moment I met her. That will never change."

  I grew quiet, feeling bad for my dad and Sophia. The longing in his voice for a love with my real mom curled around my heart like a wet piece of satin and saddened me. Joy may have been the only mother I've ever known, but now a lot of things that happened over the years made sense. She may be married to a multimillionaire and want for nothing, but she is still, and clearly will always be, the other woman. I'm sure that had to harden her heart.

  Dad continued. "After living with Joy for so long and seeing her for who she really is, I needed to know what she was up to, so I hired a PI myself. I knew she wouldn't find much on me, other than being with Sophia."

  "Did you find anything on her?" I clutched the phone in my hand, unblinking as I waited for his answer.

  "I found out a plethora of things she was hiding, including offshore bank accounts."

  "I can't believe I never knew any of this."

  "You weren't supposed to
know."

  Fair enough. "I take it Joy won't bother being tested for me."

  "She doesn't know about it yet."

  I wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad about that.

  "Maybe that's a good thing." I licked my dry lips. "I know I don't know her all that well, but do you think Sophia will be open to being tested?"

  "It may not seem like it because you don't really know her, but Sophia will do anything for you. She's just a little sensitive right now after hearing about your illnesses. It brought back memories of her sister." He paused. "Sometimes when I look at you, all I see is Sophia," he admitted. "You guys could pass as sisters."

  I choked back my emotion. Sophia once told me I looked like her sister. "Where does she live now?"

  His voice dropped to a low, quiet tone after another long pause. "North. A few towns over."

  My jaw took a dive, heart flailing into my stomach. My real mom lived a few towns over, and I never knew. I couldn't stop the questions from flying out of me.

  "Does she ever ask about me?"

  "All the time, sweetie. All the time."

  I blinked long. "Does she still want to see me? Has she ever asked?" I held my shaky breath as I waited for his response, terrified of what he would say.

  "She has asked about seeing you…" I could tell he was thinking carefully about his words before he spoke them. "I know Sophia would love to see you again one day, but I told her it would need to be up to you. She completely agreed."

  I let out a long and heavy sigh, trying to wrap my mind around the last couple of days. From Kova saying I needed to start with my mother if I wanted answers, to being diagnosed with kidney disease and lupus, to effortlessly being able to talk to my dad about my real mom, I had so many questions left that I wasn't sure I'd ever get my thoughts in order to ask all of them.

  "Does she have other children?"

  "No. She didn't feel it was fair to bring other children into this world when she couldn't have you."

  "Why didn't she fight to have me as I got older and she got better?"