Novel Straight 40_I Ran From My Ex, Straight Into My Best Friend’s Father

*

 40

 CATERINA

 “It’s nice of you to stick around to make sure your old man’s taking care of himself.” Dad finishes unloading the cold stuff into the fridge before standing up straight. He eyes me warily, as if he trying to figure me out. “However, you don’t need to take another day off work to look after me. I’m fine, and you can’t afford to lose your job.”

 “I know.” I turn my back to him before filling a pot with water at the sink. It’s a relief to be able to loosen my face up a little- it’s been more than an hour since we went out for groceries, and spent the entire time straining to keep my expression neutral. I’m exhausted, and my cheeks ache already. And it’s all because I can’t let him know what’s going on in my head.

 “Honey? Did you hear what I said?”

 “Hmm?” Turning off the faucet, I set the pot on the stove. “Sorry couldn’t hear you over the water.”

 “We’ll both head to work tomorrow, and when you get home, I’ll have dinner ready for you.” He pulls out a pitcher to mix up iced tea, something we always drank with dinner when I was a kid. The first time I ate dinner at a friend’s house, the fact that they wanted us to drink water, was horrifying, I thought everybody drank iced tea, the powdered kind from the can.

 It always made me feel like I was helping with the meal, pouring the powder and stirring it into the pitcher. Testing the sweetness. Mom would try it after me and give me a thumbs up. “Thank you so much for being such a big helper.”

 Between the constant reminders of her and the fear that I might’ve betrayed her with Gianni, it’s astonishing I can get through something as simple as fixing dinner for us. I zoned out a few times when we were at the store and kept trying to add things the cart after Dad had. Ugh.

 I have to shake myself out of the distraction gripping me these past two days. Like just now, walking into the house, I could have sworn somebody was watching me. It’s ridiculous, really, and just another way Gianni has sunk his nails into me. In real life. people don’t lurk around in the shadows, stalking girls and iming it’s because they love them. I have to adjust my thinking before I lose my sanity.

 It’s already bad enough I’m walking a thin line with Dad. Weighing every word I use, tiptoeing around the obvious. The way he let the house fall to pieces along with himself. The things he said about Mom and Gianni, which he still hasn’t uttered a word

 about.

 I wanted to give him the time and space to do the right thing on his own. I’m not deluded–I didn’t think he’d break down and pour the whole thing out, but this is a huge development and she was my mother. Don’t I deserve to know the truth?

 It’s a relief when he retreats to the living room at my suggestion and turns on the ball game. I can prac.in my head what I want to say once we sit down to eat.

 Dad, I’m going to lose my mind if you don’t tell me what you meant about nni murdering Mom. Yeah, sure, that’ll work. He won’t bepletely shocked at all. I’m still unsure if he remembers what he said before passing out. I want answers, but don’t think I can dump them on him like that.

 I guess the best way to go is to be gentle. Hey, Dad, you said a few things the other night, and I was hoping we could talk about it. I mean, that’s normal. It’s almost enough to make me lose my hold on the tes I pull out of the cab. Gianni. Mom. Impossible.

 But what if it is possible?

 I hate that question. It’s the reason why I haven’t gotten into it yet with Dad. Unable toe up with a motive, I can’t see it being true. Gianni wouldn’t murder an innocent young mother, for tuck’s sake. A sh of bitter disbelief zes through me, leaving in its wake a horrible taste in my mouth. He’s many things, but he’s not that sort of a monster.

 You’re assuming, she was innocent.

 Stupid subconscious. That could be the reason Dad doesn’t want to offer an exnation. It might mean sharing a lot more. I was eight years old–what did I know? So many things could’ve passed under my nose without me ever noticing. I don’t think I could handle having that picturesque image of her shattered, but have no other option. I need the truth. At the very least I need

 to know what makes Dad so sure it was nni who killed her.

 SU DUNUD 

 By the time the food’s ready, I’m not closer to having any sort of resolution than I was before. This is ridiculous. Grow some balls Caterina! Since when can’t I talk with him? Okay, so he can’t know about nni or about Luciano hitting me with his car or

 about where Luciano is now… fine, I can’t talk to him about most of what’s gone ontely.

 This isn’t the same. We’ve always been close, but especially over the loss of mom. If there is anyone & can talk to about her, it’s

 him.

 “Gosh?” Dad’s eyes light up at the sight of what’s waiting on the stove. It isn’t gosh, actually, just macaroni mixed with ground meat and tomato sauce. One of my favorites from when I was little.

 “I can’t help thinking about the past,” I admit as he fills up a te, “When Mom taught me how to make that. I’m so d I had the chance to learn.”

 “Me, too.” He’s smiling fondly as he sits at the dining table.

 “I feel like she’s still here with us at times like this.” Heavy–handed? Yes. I’mying it on thick, hoping he picks up the hint and runs with it.

 “It makes me happy to think of you keeping her memory alive.”

 Fuck. This is torture. He’s so happy, eating and smiling, and all I want is to ruin things by bringing up the painful past.

 Whatever’s happening, it’s visibly affecting him. And it’s not like Ican stay here forever, no matter how much he wants me to. I should at least find out what he’s going through if I’m going to eventually leave him again.

 It isn’t easy to ignore the rush of nostalgia at the first bite, tears threatening to fill my eyes. All of a sudden, I’m a little girl who wants to know why her mom had to die. I swallow back more than doodles before I can muster up the courage to speak.

 “Do you… remember anything about when I first got here a couple of nights ago?” I keep my gaze trained on my flowered te because it’s easier than watching the light drain from his eyes. Somehow I know if I look up at him, that’s what I’ll find. A man empty of life, of joy.

 ‘Not very much. Enough to feel guilty.” He clears his throat sharply before his fork ngs against his te. “Why? Did I say something stupid? You know, you can’t trust what a person says when they’re drunk. A person’s rational thought process isn’t there,”

 ties. Like, I don’t know what it’s like to be drunk. Like, I don’t know that a person is far more honest when intoxicated than sober. Rational thoughts make you lie; when you’re drunk, the truth pours out.

 He forgets I went to college, though he’s probably so deep in denial that he never imagined me going

 “Don’t bother trying to cover your ass in advance,” 1 war with a smirk while ncing up at him. “You mean you genuinely don’t remember anything? You were in your room, looking through pictures, talking about Mom”

 H

 At first, all he does is stare at me. There’s nothing angry or malicious about it. More like he can’t figure out what he’s looking at “I remember pulling the boxes down from the closet. I’m sorry it upset you. Sometimes I find myself feeling sentimental ”

 He cracks a brief grin, lifting his shoulders. “Now you know. Sometimes, your old man gets sentimental and has too much to drink. Or is it the other way around?”

 The silence between us drags on. His face falls when I don’t chuckle along with him. 

 “Is there anything you think I might like to know about the way Mom died? Like. I don’t know… maybe that it wasn’t an ident?” My voice is far more using than intended, but I can stop the emotions from slipping out.

 “Caterina-

 “The way you always told me it was?

 “You don’t understand.” His chair legs scrape over the floor when he pushes back and out of it. He’s trying to escape, to nM – from the truth, but I can’t keep living a lie. I just can’L

 I’m out of mine before he can make his escape. “No, Dad. I’m begging you I need to know the truth. What have you be keeping from me?”

 been

 The apples of his cheeks grow red, and his dark eyes narrow, “Did ever ur to you,” he murmurs in a deceptively low voice, that I have reasons for what I do? For what I share with my child?”

 ”

 “I’m not a child anymore.” My hands p against the tabletop hard enough to make our sses shake. “And I can’t forget what you said. You told me Mom was murdered. Is that true? Tell me the ruth.”

 The corners of his mouth twist in a smirk that battles me until he retorts, “Not if you ask the detectives assigned to the case

 “What does that mean?”

 “It means the official story is a car ident. It’s always been a car ident.” Does he know he’s rubbing his palms over his thighs? Like they’re sweaty. Like he’s nervous. My nerves are rattling, so I can rte to that

 I need to do this, even if it feels like I’m pulling the bandage off a healing wound. I’ll hate myself forever if I miss this

 opportunity.

 “What’s the other story?” I whisper, unsure whether I want the answer.

 He draws a deep breath that expands his chest and reminds me what a fit, powerful man he still is. It’s easy to look at your dad and see an old man, but the truth is, he’s only a year older than Gianni, I hate to think of him wasting away, drinking himself to

 hear death in a house full of filthy dishes and takeout containers. It’ll be worth it if it means suffering through what I’m about to so I can help him through whatever he’s dealing with.

 “The other story.” He lowers his brow, folding his arms as his jaw juts out like he’s pissed off, bitter. “The other story involves your mother’s autopsy featuring a bullet wound to the head. Her original autopsy.”

 I grip the table edge in fear of falling to the floor. “Original?”

 He nods. “As in the first autopsy, before the report was altered.”

 My band ils around behind me to grab my chair before 1 end up on my ass. “And you know that for sure? That the report was altered?”

 “I saw the original before the alteration. It disappeared from my desk, and everyone I asked pretended it was never there. All this time, they’ve been telling me it was never a gunshot wound. They’ve treated me like I was a poor, hallucinating widower

 “But…” It’s getting harder to breathe. My throat seems to be closing, my heart constricting a little more with every beat.” Why?”

 “That’s where Gianni Rossetties in.” His expression softens for the first time since this started, but only a smidge. “I’m sorry, honey. This is why I didn’t want you to know. I knew it would hurt because of Tatiana, but you deserve to know the truth He shakes his head. “I should’ve told you a long time ago, before you two became so close. Nothing good can evere of that family.” He’s vibrating with rage so intense the air practically crackles around him. The light hanging over the table casts eerie shadows over his face and hides his eyes when he lowers his brow again “nni knew I was after him. That I finally had something that I could pin on him. Watching him get away with his crimes… I couldn’t let it go, except the man was Tellon. He still is. Nothing sticks to him.”

 I shouldn’t have said anything. No, he shouldn’t have lied. How could I have known where it would go?

 40.3

 It should shock me to know Dad and nni had it out for each other, but I always assumed it had to do more with the illegal wrongdoings that Gianni got away with and my father’s deep moralpass of taking down corruption. This is much more than I could’ve bargained for. “He knew? You’re sure about that?”

 “I wasn’t exactly discreet,” he snorts. “He knew damn well I’ve made it my mission to take him down.”

 I’m starting to see it. I don’t want to. I want to close my eyes and pretend it isn’t so sharp.

 He put a bullet in your mother’s brain as a warning to me,” Dad concludes in a grim voice. “I know it must be painful to hear that. I’ve told myself for years that Tatiana is not her father, but it’s inevitable that she’ll start taking after him as she ages. No matter how good of a person or how different she tries to be from her father, his blood still runs in her veins.” His forehead smooths, and he smiles. “Now that I have what I’ve been looking for, I can finally put all of this to rest.”

 “And what is that?” I croak.

 “The original autopsy. Whoever was supposed to remove the original from the archives didn’t do their job very well. Nevertheless, it took a hell of a lot of digging to find it.”

 Every question he answers only brings up two more. “I don’t understand. Who would hide something like that?

 “A dirty cop. There’s corruption in the department, there has been for years. That’s how nni manages to skirt prosecution and why your mom’s autopsy was altered to keep him out of it. All these years, your poor mother hasn’t been able to rest h peace because that bastard is out walking free, doing more criminal shit. Money can make anyone innocent, but the truth is you can’t unsee it once it’s in front of you.”

 “Don’t do that,” I whisper, closing my eyes. “I can’t take it.” I don’t need him giving me ideas about whether or not Mom is able to rest, I might as well ask him to shove a knife into my chest, as it I need more reasons to regret every choice I’ve made over the past few months. It makes too much sense. I don’t want to believe it, but I can’t pretend the pieces don’t fit together.

 All except for one, but I can’t bring it up. It’s probably the most important piece of all. Gianni wouldn’t kill an innocent woman Not to send a message. I know him too well to believe otherwise. But you aren’t supposed to, are you? And that’s why I have to bite my tongue before I identally blurt out too much. I can’t defend him. It’ll look too suspicious.

 He wouldn’t

 He couldn’t.

 Even if it was thirteen years ago, he might’ve been a different manat that time. I refuse to believe this. Even if I’ve seen how easy it was for him to put a bullet through somebody’s head, even the threatened to hurt me, it was only ever a threat. Every part of my heart aches, telling me it’s a lie. My stomach churns violently, and I jump up and stumble to the sink just in time for the drain to catch my vomit. Oh god. This can’t be true. None of it can. Even if the alternative means Dad’s losing his grip on reality.

 “I’m sorry,” he murmurs behind me once I’ve finally stopped retching. “I am, honey, I didn’t want you to know. The truth is ugly sometimes.”

 That’s one word for it. I’m still shaking when I rinse my mouth out, slumped over the edge of the sink. Dad’s been after nni all this time, while I was busy fucking him. It’s too twisted. My stomach lurches again at the thought.

 The knock at the front door forces me to stand upright. My heart’s in my throat, and I’m suddenly sweaty. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. It’s the worst timing ever for him to show up. He wouldn’t show up here, least of all with my father here.

 Unless it meant kidnapping me and taking me back to his house. I can’t pretend that would never happen. Gianni’s capable of anything. Even… no, he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t murder an innocent. I repeatedly tell myself that and cling to the thought like a life vest, praying it’ll keep me above the rising water.

 Dad’s footfalls signal his walk to the front door–where his sudden, sharp announcement makes me turn to face the open door. “She can’t see you right now. We’re in the middle of something.”

 “I want to see her.” Instead of a deep, masculine voice, I hear my best friend’s voice. The relief that washes over me brings tears to my eyes “I need to make sure she’s okay,” she insists.

 He barks out a snarkyugh, like she’s an idiot for worrying. “Of course, she’s fine. Why wouldn’t she be?”

 “Excuse me,

 but I’d rather see that for myself.”

 “Excuse me,

 but this is my house and we’re not having visitors right now. We were having dinner.” He shakes his head, “Never mind, that doesn’t matter. You’re going to have to leave,” he insists in a firm voice as I enter the room, looking over his shoulder to see if it’s really her. If she’s really here.

 It’s not like I don’t know her voice. I merely need to see her with my own eyes to be sure. She’s standing on the porch with her arms wrapped around her middle, frowning up at my father and wearing a look that can only mean trouble for whoever stands in her way.

 “Either you’re going to get out of my way,” she retorts, “or I’m going around you. She’s my best friend and a grown woman, and if she doesn’t want to see me, then she can tell me herself.”

 I hate to break it to him, but she’s not going to give up

 Considering her father might have killed my mom, I’m not sure how to feel about it.

17kNovel

Novel Straight 40