Heart in a Box

by Ally Sky

  "Would you mind letting me hear her?"

  "Yes." I lean against the doorpost, looking at the blond girl, who looks exactly like the guy on the phone.

  "Please, talk to her."

  "No," I quietly refuse again. "Just wait until I get my hands on my father."

  "You won't have any trouble recognizing him, he's the guy with the broken nose."

  "You broke my father's nose?" I whisper in horror.

  "There were three of them, waiting for me outside the gym. Not really fair play, if you ask me."

  "I'm sorry, I swear I had no idea." I close my eyes. This is getting ugly.

  "Give me a number, Elizabeth. I know you need the money, let me take care—" He cuts off midsentence.

  "I'm working on it." I really need to sit on it and finish.

  "I can deposit something in the meantime."

  I'm about to refuse him. I don't want him to think I'm buying into this good guy pretense.

  "Mama, I want out," Viv calls.

  "I have to finish."

  "I know." He knows his time is over. I hang up, put the phone on the floor and pull the towel from the hook to wrap my daughter, the little one that was mine and mine only, and now a stranger wants to become a part of her life.

  "Mama," Vivian looks up at me over her dinner plate, a rebellious lock of hair falling over her forehead.

  "Yes, Viv?" I bite into the roast chicken.

  "Do you think my daddy's in heaven?"

  I cough loudly as the chicken gets stuck in my throat. There have only been a few times that Vivian has asked me about her father, I suppose because she grew up without him and didn't know anything else. I have a feeling she's been hearing things this past week, even if she doesn't quite understand what.

  "Your father isn't in heaven, Viv." I try to remain indifferent in the face of the storm gathering momentum inside me.

  "Daryl said anyone who dies goes to heaven."

  "Is that what Daryl said?"

  "Yes, like his granddad. Daryl draws him." She fills her mouth with potatoes.

  "What do you think?" I cast about.

  "About people who die?" she asks, her mouth full. "I think they're going to heaven. Is that where my dad is?"

  Another loud cough attacks me. I always knew that the moment would come, and with it the difficult questions. If only I could put this off a little.

  "Your father isn't in heaven." I take a sip of water.

  "Is he in hell?"

  I wish.

  "Your father isn't dead."

  In fact he's not too far from here, and I keep him from seeing you. Maybe I shouldn't say that.

  "So where is he?" She stops her chewing in anticipation of an answer.

  "He left."

  "When will he be back?"

  Damn you, Colin!

  "I don't know, darling, not all fathers come back."

  "Louisa's father came back."

  "Louisa's father went to New York on a business trip." Yes, we all heard about Louisa's father's trip, the one that became longer and longer because of a certain blond woman with impressive cleavage, or so I've heard. Louisa's father returned after six months and Louisa's mother was a sucker who took him back.

  "Can I paint him a painting?"

  "Louisa's dad?" I twist my face.

  "My dad," she answers innocently. My heart is crushed, literally, crushed and burned.

  "You can draw for him. Now finish eating your chicken." I look down at the plate and load my fork with potatoes. If only the subject won't open again.

  "What the hell were you thinking?" I shout into the phone, standing on the porch at nine in the evening, after I've put Viv to sleep, letting my father understand exactly what I think of his behavior.

  "I just told him to stay away." He doesn't get excited.

  "From what I heard you got yourself a broken nose."

  "A small price to pay. You're my daughter, and if you thought I would sit still . . ."

  "I'm trying to solve this!" If my family doesn't stop interfering, someone will pay. "I told you, don't interfere."

  "Don't you think you’re confused?" He laughs out loud, "I'm not your child."

  "It's not your problem." I try to sound firm.

  "I told you a thousand times, he is dangerous."

  "Stop interfering."

  "He needs to leave." He hangs up the call without letting me comment.

  I swear loudly, go into the house and sit down on the couch, picking up Vivian's painting to a father she doesn't know. Blue sky, green grass and three figures holding hands. That's how it was supposed to be. Two people in love who brought a child into the world, and together they can whether the storm. I get up slowly, open the cupboard under the TV and hesitate for just a moment before reaching deep in and taking out the old photo album hidden inside. I sit down on the rug, put it on my lap and open it, looking at the eighteen-years-old girl whose hand is around the broad waist of the blond boy beside her. We were photographed at the summer fair, just before the school year was over. Just before I made the fatal decision that would change everything.

  The girl I used to be smiles innocently from the photo. In her eyes, I see she believes everything can be mended. The world hasn't spoiled her and she is swept off her feet by a blonde boy who sells her illusions. Did he ever really love me?

  The question occupied me for so many long nights while I laid in bed, my hands on my stomach and the baby in my womb kicking. How can one leave without giving an opportunity to understand?

  He just…stopped loving me.

  Perhaps one of us got sensible in time. Maybe I wanted to believe the illusion, and Colin couldn't pretend anymore. Either way, life went on, and my baby grew up to be a beautiful girl, full of confidence and smiles.

  The boy in the picture disappeared only to return and raise those unanswered questions. To open the box where I locked my heart and stab it, one last time that would kill me forever.

  Chapter 5

  Standing in front of the ATM, I stare at the my bank account's balance and roll my eyes.

  Twenty-five thousand dollars. More than I've ever had, but if someone thinks he'll buy his way back into our lives, he's in for a painful awakening.

  I planned on spending my lunch break sitting on the bench in the car park eating the sandwich I'd brought from home, but I lost my appetite. I take out my cell phone, dial and wait.

  Breathe. Breathe, and don't lose your cool.

  The mantra I memorize doesn't help. My phone is pressed to my ear, I'm waiting nervously for my ex to answer and get a good one from me.

  "Elizabeth," he answers in a steady voice. He has no idea what is coming his way, because the girl he left behind and the girl I am today are not the same.

  "Do you think I'm a whore?" I fire with disgust.

  "What the . . ."

  "I asked, do you think I'm a whore?" I repeat the words just to shock him more.

  "Since when did you start talking like that?" His tone tenses.

  "Since I had to raise my child alone!" I imagine my words hitting him hard. "What made you think you could come here with your money and buy us?"

  "That's not what I did."

  "That's exactly what you did. We got along fine before you returned. No one needs your favors or you!"

  "That's not your decision." He manages not to raise his voice.

  "You won't come here and wave your dollars in expectation that I'll follow them blindly."

  "I've known you long enough to know nothing will blind you."

  "You don't know me. You don't know what I went through because of you." The words rolls from my tongue in anger. "Because of your lies, the girl I was is dead. You killed her, Colin. You stole my future and you're hallucinating if you think giving me mone . . ."

  "It's not your money, it's Vivian's money." His semantics don’t work on me.

  "I'm not one of those dumb cheerleaders who followed you 'round school. Maybe you should have married one of them and
not ruined my life."

  "I didn't expect you to welcome me with open arms, but she is my daughter, and I will do as I see fit, when I see fit." He takes a deep breath, "And next time you call yourself a whore . . ."

  "Don't make me feel like one." I struggle not to stammer.

  "I'm not doing you favors," he says in a cold tone. "I'm fulfilling my duties."

  "Until when? The next time you decide you don't love anymore?"

  "You're still not listening," he says nervously, "I'm not leaving."

  "I listened to you for four long years and see where I ended up?"

  "I see quite well," he sounds impatient. "It seems the only one who doesn't see is you."

  "Please don't hurt her," I plead.

  "Hurt her?"

  "She's just a girl, she doesn't know anything, don't get into her life if there's any chance you'll get out of it."

  "I've told you and I'll tell you again, I won't approach her without your permission, but I ask that you allow us to meet. Not today, not tomorrow, but sometime in the near future, let me meet her."

  "Show me you're trustworthy," I answer without hesitation.

  "That's exactly what I intend to do."

  "Are you sure your business is legit?" Because I wouldn't be surprised if I found out that he was involved in the mafia, or some other organized crime, or any crime when you think about it.

  "The business is legit. Are you sure you haven’t heard our advertisement on the radio?"

  "I don't know," I reply in an insulting tone, "let me think about it, since I don't really listen to the radio, and all my time is devoted to my daughter."

  "I understand," he answers quietly. That just shut his mouth.

  "That's the problem, Colin, I don't think you do understand. I don't think you know what it's like to hate someone so much you'll pay any amount of money to make them go away."

  "You forget where I came from." He is serious.

  "I never forgot where you came from, just as I never forgot your promise to never hurt me like," I cut my sentence at once. I hate him, really, and still, the girl I used to be prevents me from pressing that point. To mention the life he had. For a few moments there's silence between us.

  "Are you there?" I ask.

  "Just wondering if there are any more skeletons you want to get out of my dusty closet."

  I deserve it. In spite of what he did, there are things he doesn't deserve to have slammed in his face.

  "I'm sorry."

  "Call me when you have the numbers." The call ends.

  I went too far, and now I hate myself. The secrets he shared only with me shocked me to my bone. I swore never to compare, never to mention the past, and I didn't keep my word.

  I know everything between us is diminished by what he did, and that his abandonment was the worst thing he could do, and yet I know his scars, I know where each and every one is placed, and he didn't need a reminder.

  I take a deep breath. How easy it is to come back out of nowhere, crash into other people's lives and come up with demands. Did he stop for a moment and think about me? During those years, did he ask himself how I was doing? How Vivian was? Because the way it looks from here, he hung out and made money, and let us struggle. Now he wants to come back? I don't think so, mister. I don't think so.

  Henry realizes that something is wrong when I return to the store with a sagging face. He glances at me over his shoulder and mumbles something to the impressive customer who takes interest in the round coffee table that has been standing in the corner of the store for months. I approach both of them, ready to help Henry and perhaps justify the salary I receive mainly for keeping the place clean. The tall woman makes him agitated. I see him shifting weight from one leg to the other and biting his lip. I also know that if Henry's parents had not been Mr. Blunt's childhood friends, he would probably have been fired long ago

  "Good afternoon," I greet her, trying not to stare at her shiny blond hair. She looks like someone who has the money to buy the table. Hell, she looks like a thirty-year-old who has the money to buy a sofa, a dining set, and a few pictures and mirrors. All I can hope is that I am not mistaken and that our client is potentially furnishing her house.

  "Hello," she reaches her hand in a gesture that confuses me. "I'm Danielle."

  Why does she think I should know her name? And why is her black dress sitting on her illegally well?

  "Elizabeth," I shake her cold hand, fighting instinctively to pull my hand back in recoil. "Can I help you?"

  "This nice guy just helped me understand."

  "Henry," I correct her.

  "Yes, Henry." She smiles and reveals her straight teeth. "Like I said, Henry helped me figure out some things."

  "Maybe I can help too," I insist.

  "You're expensive." She doesn't beat around the bush.

  "Quality costs, Danielle." I'm not taken aback by her statement. I hear that claim from every customer who enters.

  "Very expensive, Elizabeth." She tilts her head sideways teasingly. Okay, I don't like her. As far as I'm concerned she doesn't need to buy anything. She can just get out empty-handed and sleep on the floor in her unfurnished house.

  "Are you working on fees?" Her question undermines the little confidence I have.

  "No," I answer in a steady voice, barely.

  "No wonder," she mumbles to herself, her eyes quickly examining the variety of furniture that has been standing in the same place for months.

  "How can I help you?" I don't think she's going to buy anything. She must have just been bored and came into the store to spend an hour of her life harassing Henry and me for fun. Another former high school cheerleader who teased others for sport.

  "Henry has already answered all my questions." She smiles at Henry, and her smile makes him chew his lip even more.

  "Maybe I can show you something else. What exactly are you looking for?" I make one last effort to sell her a piece of furniture she probably doesn't need.

  "I don't think so." She shakes her head and her blond hair moves from side to side elegantly. My mother would love her, her makeup and her upright posture. Of that, I have no doubt.

  "Maybe another time." I hold out my hand to shake hers in order to end the encounter.

  "Maybe." She squeezes my hand tightly, her eyes on Henry. "Thank you for the help, young man."

  Young man? I hold back a laugh. She doesn't look much older than us. Who does she think she is?

  "You're welcome." Henry manages not to stammer, and she reaches forward, waiting for him to shake her hand next. He stares at her hand, her long fingernails painted in shiny red nail polish.

  "Will I wait long?" She laughs and wakes him from his coma.

  "Excuse me," he grabs her hand clumsily and squeezes it, "nice to meet you."

  Oh Henry . . .

  "Very nice." She laughs again. "Have a good day."

  She releases her hand, smiles at me for the last time and walks away confidently, her high heels knocking on the parquet floor, until she reaches the door, opens it and walks out.

  I let out air demonstratively, a long, desperate breath.

  "What was that?" I ask Henry without expecting a real answer.

  "Customer," he murmurs, "a scary one."

  "Was she? Scary?" I twist my face.

  "She asked a bunch of questions, tried to confuse me, maybe she was a little successful."

  "Confuse you?" I laugh out loud, "Henry, you know every nail in the wall."

  "Did you see her?" He stares at me with a look I have not seen on his face for a very long time.

  "Henry?" I raise an eyebrow mischievously.

  "She's beautiful." He manages not to stammer again. "Very beautiful."

  "Very beautiful," I repeat his words.

  "She's smart too, her questions were good. She wanted to know how big the store is, how many people come in every day, what our average sales are."

  "Jesus Christ." My brain works quickly and processes the data that Henry s
eems to have missed because the girl is beautiful. "She's not a customer, Henry, she's renting the store!"

  His hand leaps to his mouth and his eyes open in horror.

  "You think?" he filters the words through his fingers.

  "Yes." My heart is accelerating. "She's going to fire us, for sure."

  "Crap," he doesn't take his eyes off me. "I should have lied to her."

  "No." He couldn't have lied to her, even if he wanted to. "It was bound to happen sooner or later, even though I would have preferred someone else to rent the place, and not . . . her."

  "Because she's beautiful?" Henry doesn't take his hand from his mouth.

  "Because she's vain, self-confident and very unpleasant," I sharpen my point.

  "She was actually nice."

  "She called you a young man." I stare at him reproachfully.

  "Oh, that." He finally lets go of his mouth.

  "Yes, Henry, that, and the tone in which she spoke." I'm sure he missed that too.

  "I guess it's time to enroll in college." He shrugs his shoulders in disappointment.

  "The sooner the better." I sigh loudly, my insides making an impressive somersault.

  I'm going to be fired. I know that.

  Cleaning apartments here I come.

  Who the hell calls me at eleven o'clock? I pull my phone out sleepily, glancing at the screen.

  Colin? He must be angry at our last conversation. Angry at me and the promise I broke.

  My heart drops as I get out of bed, walk out of the bedroom into the hallway and answer quietly.

  "Hello?"

  "I want to see her," he fires without waiting.

  "You can't."

  "I don't care how you organize it or under what conditions, I—"

  "Is it because of what I said this afternoon?" I sit down with my back against the wall. "That's why you woke me up?"

  "No." He's lying, I know that. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

  "You woke me up because of what I said."

  "Don't look for reasons, I want to see her because she's my daughter," he replies firmly.

  "I'm sorry if I touched a sensitive nerve," I hasten to apologize again.

  "You didn't touch anything, what's in the past stayed there."

  "We both know that's not true." What happened will never be locked in the past.