by Ally Sky
"Next time, I want you to go to Mrs. Robbins and ask for her help."
"Okay."
"Okay." I spread my arms in a gesture of reconciliation. She hastens to cling to me resting her head on my stomach, reminding me, in one embrace, why everything was worth it.
"I love you, sweetie," I whisper to her. "Let's make dinner."
"I want pizza." She sniffs.
"We can definitely make pizza." I never spend money on Take-out. Not with my kitchen skills.
"I wanna watch TV."
"Sure, hon." I release her from my embrace, pick up the remote control, and turn on the old television that is doing me a huge favor and not dying on me. Viv climbs onto the sofa that is covered with a burgundy cloth blanket, the sole purpose of which is to conceal the stubborn stains I couldn't remove. I've owned it for six years and will own it for another six, if it's up to me.
"Frozen," she commands me with a smile. I turn on the DVD and the movie begins.
"I'm in the kitchen," I say, as if she could miss me. The kitchen is right behind her.
"Shh!" She puts a finger to her mouth as the film runs. I kiss her, go into the kitchen, take a bowl out of the cupboard, and get ready to make the pizza. Thank God for Anna and Elsa and small favors.
Hours later, I close the cramped bedroom door, crash on the sofa and stare at the ceiling. Nine o'clock in the evening, the kitchen is clean, the house is tidy and my child is asleep.
Just another day, like all the previous days and all those that will follow. This isn't how I imagined it would be. In spite of the effort to push those thoughts back to where they came from, they are getting the best of me tonight. I pray not to cry. Vivian might suddenly wake up and panic. She never sees me crying.
When she was younger, I would run to the bathroom and sob, my face buried in a towel. Now that she’s older I can't hide from her. She sees my red eyes and always demands explanations. I learned to stifle the lump in my throat and wait for the hours when she slept. The hours when I drop down on the couch exhausted, wondering how I got here.
At twenty-six this is my life. No college degree, no savings, no husband.
If only Vivian looked more like me, everything would be easier. If only she looked less like him. Sometimes I allow myself to wonder what would have happened if he hadn't approached me that day. If he hadn't appeared at my door that afternoon. What if it had all been a joke at my expense, that the captain of the football team had decided to play a little game with the “Library Geek” and made me sit at home waiting for him in vain?
But he didn't play, not even for a minute, and he didn't pretend I was air, as I expected him to, and the glances he threw my direction changed every day, and my breath accelerated every time he appeared. Each time he sat next to me in my bedroom and his thigh touched my thigh. He didn't understand the material, and yet he never gave up. He insisted and tried harder. I couldn't help but admire him even more. I couldn't help falling in love with him.
I never thought Colin Young would be my first kiss.
Never thought he would be the one who took my virginity.
The one for whom I would give up everything.
Life played a cruel game on me, devouring the cards, leaving me at the age of twenty-six crying quietly on the sofa for what I still can't understand.
Chapter 2
The furniture store is empty of customers. I finish washing the floor and join Henry, whose standing behind the cash register leaning against the dark, wooden counter.
Most days, that's how we spend our time. The shopping center where the store is located is usually crowded, but the recession combined with the furniture's prices stop the flow of buyers.
I can't blame them. I myself wouldn't pay what Mr. Blunt is asking for a sofa or a dining table, no matter how “high-end” it is. Our customers aren't stupid. They know as well as I do these days everything is manufactured in China or some other third world country, and I can't fool them. All Henry and I can to do is stand idly by and look out the window at the people passing by the store, not bothering to peek inside.
"If I'm left with no choice, I'll clean up apartments," I sigh loudly as Henry and I desperately evaluate our professional future. I have to support my daughter, and if cleaning apartments will put money into my bank account, that's what I'll do.
"I was thinking of applying to college again," he reveals to me for the first time.
"Really?" I find that I'm the only one despaired by the situation. My friend, I realize, has plans.
"I think the time is right." He shrugs. Henry would have no problem getting accepted, he's the brightest guy I know. How many people read two books a day and remember every word? If it hadn't been for the car accident his mother had when we were in our senior year in high school, he would have finished a few degrees by now and gotten a doctorate.
"I think you should apply," I cheer him up. He'd enjoy his studies.
"Maybe we'll apply together?" He is quick to offer, breaking my heart again.
"You know I can't."
"Because of Vivian?"
"Because of Viv, and 'cause I don't have the money, and I'm sick of asking my parents for help all the time." This, unfortunately, isn't going to change. I'll continue to lean on their help and money.
"Shame." He doesn't read the disappointment on my face. "You're really smart."
"She always was," the low voice coming from the door sends a shiver down my entire body. My pulse accelerates to a frightening speed and, as if in slow motion, I look up and pray that it will all be a mistake.
My eyes travel up the long legs hidden behind gray trousers to the muscular thighs. Then, to the solid abs protruding from a tight, black polo shirt. His chest is huge, and so are his arms—enormous and covered with tattoos that weren't there before.
"Elizabeth," he calls my name coldly. My eyes rise to his clenched jaw, his familiar lips, his blue eyes. The way he looks at me sends a wave of chill through me, as if someone is washing my bloodstream with ice water.
I stare at him with hate. Hate that has been burning threw me for five long years, Hate I didn't know existed until he did what he did.
I can't make a sound. My words refuse to come together to one coherent sentence. I stay silent, struggling to breathe. He doesn't look like the guy who left.
The jeans and t-shirts he used to wear have been replaced by these clothes, which make him look a hell of a lot more serious. His body was always muscular but now he has grown to a monstrous size.
Everything about him is different—from the blank stare he gives me to the neat haircut.
"Hello, Henry," he addresses my friend with the same remoteness he did me. Henry looks almost as stunned as I am and doesn't say a word. I'm sure he, who's heard me say a thing or two about the maniac in the past five years, doesn't like him, to say the least.
"You have some nerve," I squint at him as I manage to overcome the gap between my brain and mouth.
"Maybe we can go outside." Did he really just suggest that we move our drama to the huge parking lot, where everyone can see?
"I'm going nowhere." I don't take my eyes off the bastard who stands before me, all puffed up. "You can leave."
"We need to talk."
"'Excuse me?" I burst at him from behind the counter, making Henry jump. "We what?"
"You're surprised."
"Surprised?" I snort. "Nothing you do now will surprise me. I was surprised when you didn't show up for our wedding or for your daughter's birth or for any other event in the last five years."
"I think I'll leave you two alone," Henry stammers and turns his back on me, slipping into the storage, allowing me more privacy to explode on the scum that has appeared out of nowhere. I didn't think Henry would stay, he isn't the kind of guy who copes well with confrontation.
"You're expecting explanations." Colin doesn't take his eyes off mine and all I can see in them is distance. There is no trace of his caressing voice or the love he once gave me.
&n
bsp; "What explanation could you give me? Was the gym more important than your daughter? Because, apparently, that’s where you spent your time!" I give his huge arms another look. Yep, without a doubt caused by weights, a balanced diet, protein shakes and a whole lot of money, that I should have gotten for our daughter.
"You're busy." He pulls out a wallet from his back pocket and hands me a business card. "This is my number."
I crumple it between my fingers and throw it at him without thinking.
"You can shove your number." He takes a deep breath, puts the wallet back in his pocket, glares at me hard, and out come the words that crush my frail world into a thousand pieces.
"I want to see her."
"Forget it," I whisper as I try to breathe. My heart has trouble pumping blood all over my body, which makes me pale. "You won't see her, you lost the right."
"She's my daughter."
"Really?" I thank God for my anger, which prevents my tears from breaking out. "If she's your daughter, please tell me, where were you when my water broke in the middle of the night and my mother had to take me to the hospital while I was terrified to the bone?"
His steady posture doesn't change, his body doesn't move an inch, even as my words beat him mercilessly. "Where were you, when the monitor showed she was in trouble and I was rushed for a C-section? When I got out of bed, sore, stitches on my belly and went to see her in an incubator 'cause she couldn't breathe?"
"I deserve that," he answers in a steady voice, free of apology.
"Where were you when she was two years old and vomited so much she suffered from dehydration and I had to hold her when they stuck a needle in her vein? When I held her hand and there was no one there to hold mine, where were you, Colin?" My voice cracks as I shout, "Where the hell have you been?"
I want to hear his answer, but the ringing of an unfamiliar phone interrupts my racing thoughts. He reaches into his trouser pocket, pulls out his cell phone, and without looking away from me, answers confidently.
"Colin Young."
I have to figure out a way to make him disappear. To make him crawl back into the hole he came out of. If he thinks he can just show up here with delusional demands, he is wrong.
He wants to meet her . . . She doesn't even know who he is!
"Don't make me laugh, not more than a dollar. I'll handle it the minute I'm in front of my computer." His voice is steady and authoritative. "I know it's urgent, I'll get back to you as soon as I can." He hangs up and puts the phone back in his pocket.
"Let me guess, something came up." I cross my hands on my chest.
"Work."
"You have a job?" I mock him. "How nice."
"I have a business. Elizabeth, we need—"
"I don't know what you thought would happen when you came here, but you're wrong if you think I'll just let you show up in Vivian's life, just to disappear—"
"I'm not going to disappear," this time he interrupts me. "I'm staying in town, I'm back, and I'm not leaving again."
"You can't meet her," I insist.
"We need to come up with a solution."
"No solution, take me to court."
"I really would rather not to." His answer makes my knees shake.
"You won't do that to me."
"You need time."
"No time in the world will convince me to change my mind," I sneer at him. "No time in the world will change the fact that all you left behind was a note."
"I don't expect you to understand."
"I understand just fine," I raise my hand in front of his face, "you pretended to love me for four long years just to have a roof over your head and food on the table. When I think of all the things I did, everything I gave you . . . I should have listened to my father."
His jaw tightens in a second. I see his face darken and something passes through his gaze when I mention the man who raised me.
"Your father hated me from day one," he says, trying to hide the loathing in his voice. I know he's right but still, he has no right to talk badly about my father, who has saved me time and again over the last few years.
"My father loves me," I remind him. "He tried to warn me about you, tried to save me from the fate that awaited me, but you . . . crawled into my heart like a snake."
"The fuck I did," his words destabilize me. He never spoke to me this way. "You know it had nothing to do with me."
"You're all the same," I repeat the sentence he's heard more than once. My father told him to his face again and again. I should have to listen to him.
A football player?
You know why they can get away with it.
You know who they really are.
"I have to go." Colin realizes he won't get what he came for.
"Of course you have to go," I reply scornfully.
"Think about when I can meet her."
"There's nothing to think about," I shake my head. "You have to disappear."
"That's not going to happen. I don't expect you to forgive me, but we have a child, and I want to know her."
"Not in this life." I've got to get him out of here before the tears overcome me.
"I'll be in touch." He gives me a last icy look. "Goodbye, Elizabeth."
He turns his back on me and walks confidently out the door, and the dam brakes.
Oh God. Oh God. Where did he come from?
Breathe!
He thought he would just show up here and . . . and . . . and ask to meet my daughter?
My daughter! He isn't anything more than a sperm donor who broke my heart. I gave him four years of my life just to stand at the alter at twenty-one with a five-month belly in front of all our guests.
Screw him!
I wipe the endless tears.
I don't know him. I used to think I did, but I was wrong. I don't know what else he is capable of. As far as I'm concerned he might . . .
Oh God!
My heart is threatening to collapse, I grab my bag from under the counter. Henry emerges from the storage and stares at me with sympathy.
"I have to go . . . I. . ."
"Are you sure it would be wise to drive in your condition?"
I'm not sure of anything. It took me five years to get my life into some kind of order, and the bastard has just pulled the rug from under my feet again. I have to get to Vivian.
"I'm sorry, I . . ."
"Go, do what you need to, I'll back you up." Henry gestures toward the door. I run out of the store, get into my car and pray I'm not too late.
I curse every driver who moves too slow, every car that stops, every red light that refuses to change and makes me wait patiently. I have no patience, and I have no time, because if the bastard decides to pull a number on me . . .
I haven't heard from him in five years, and from nowhere he appears at the door and asks to see her. With what right?
I can't trust him. I mustn't believe a word he says, I have to protect Vivian.
With a screech of brakes I stop the car in front of the daycare and burst in, panting in front of Mrs. Robbins' stunned face, staring at me in confusion.
"Elizabeth, is everything all right?"
No. Nothing's all right and it won't be all right until I take my daughter from here, home.
"I have to get Vivian." My eyes are searching for my child, who is nowhere to be seen.
"Okay . . ." She hesitates. "Maybe you want some water first?"
What good will some water do me now?
"Mrs. Robbins, I know I look…" Hysterical. "I just need to get Viv, there's an emergency in the family." I blurt the perfect excuse I had prepared in advance to explain my situation.
"Oh, of course. I hope it's nothing serious."
"Nothing serious, no need to worry," I reassure her.
"She's in the backyard, I'll go and get her."
"Thank you." I take a deep breath. She was in the back yard, he hasn't reached for her.
Mrs. Robbins turns, walks out the side door and comes back after two min
utes, which I passed trying to arrange my red hair so that looks less terrible.
"Mama!" Vivian comes running and jumps to my arms.
"Sweetheart," I crush her into my chest, "I've come to pick you up early."
Real early, considering it's eleven in the morning.
"Where are we going?" She wrinkles her sweet face.
"Home." Straight home, without stopping.
What if he knows I've never moved? What if he appeared there?
Okay, I have to calm down, this paranoia doesn't help one bit.
I look up at Mrs. Robbins, who still seems unsure of entrusting Vivian with me, in my state.
"I'll be in touch." I give Viv a hand and walk her to the door.
"I'll wait to hear from you," Mrs. Robbins calls, as I step out the door and rush my girl into the car and fasten her seatbelt.
We've got to get out of here.
Please wake up. Wake up and find out it was just a bad dream.
The solemn prayers I carry in my heart as I press the accelerator never come true. In the backseat Vivian plays on my phone, while my eyes jump to the mirror to see if anyone is following us.
I breathe slowly, begging God not to cry again. I can't even run away. I don't have the privilege of disappearing, throwing a suitcase into the car and never looking back. In order to run away you need money, the kind I don't have. To escape, you need a plan, and I have a child. I can't tear her out of her life.
Why did he come back? Why couldn't he stay away, why was he so selfish and so inconsiderate? I am beating myself again.
The man I loved never existed. He was just a creation of my wild imagination. The outcome of a calculated blindness. I wanted to believe that someone like him could love me and was left with a child who doesn't know her father, a minuscule salary and an apartment to keep. He will pay for what he did. He'll pay big time.
"What do you mean, he just showed up?" My mother yells so loud on the phone that my ragged nerves are about to surrender again to tears. I stand outside my house so that my four-and-a-half-year-old won't hear a thing. I turned on the TV, turned up the volume, and snuck out, hoping that maybe my mother would have something smart to say.