Trying To Endure

Chapter Thirty-Five

"Someone Derek knows contacted our unit earlier today," he says. "I think it was his aunt. Derek spoke to me and asked to talk to you. He thinks you need it. Is everything okay?"

The circumstances of the Middle East are so horrendous, it is exceptionally challenging to get Dad for a five-second conversation. Derek, his aunt, his family, must have contacts.

Rhett's grapple to my throat is a sore burn. Roy's groping; my breasts hurt. Camila. Destiny. Aasvhi. Bodie. "No. Did Mum tell you what happened?"

"You broke Aasvhi's nose. Got into a fight. Got suspended ... I'm proud of you."

"Tell Mum that."

He chuckles. "I did and ... I love her, but you know what she's like. She was also right, baby-girl. You let your emotions take a hold of you—"

"I couldn't help it. They said horrible things—"

"Okay, okay, but at times you have to be the bigger person. Tell me everything that happened."

After I finished, Dad grumbled, "Some bitches, alright." I laugh loudly. "I bet your Mum and Aachchie wanted to join. You're with some friends right now, yes?"

"Yep." I tell Dad the history of the lake house. It's surprising Mum allowed me to come here. Maybe she knew I needed a break from home, a break with friends. When Ines came in her Porsche, when she hugged Mum, I saw a glint in Mum's eyes she never had with my ex-friends: she knew this group is better than the last. She couldn't figure out why.

"That's interesting." I can undoubtedly hear the reverence penetrating each word. "I never knew his family did that."

I grab a tissue from the kitchen counter, wiping my nose. I miss Dad. I miss him so much. "I broke up with Roy."

"Yeah, your Mum told me." He sighs heavily. "What a dickhead, you know?"

"You were right from the beginning."

"Of course I was. Roy chose gold. It was supposed to be lead."

I roll my eyes. "You and your Shakespeare ..."

"Hey, he's a famous writer for a reason—" A distortion in the background "Hey, hey—lads! Come on, calm down a little. I'm talking to my daughter."

"Heyo, how are you doing, Levesque's kid?" someone hollers. Silence. Then: "Sorry, chief."

Soft guffaws. Dad is quite intimidating and stern, a bit hard-headed.

Through the curvature windows, it is so dark, not even the awfully-close smudges of the meadow is visible. "Are you coming home soon?"

Dad sighs deeply. "I don't know, baby. I was hoping for Christmas but ... it seems unlikely."

Not another Christmas without him. No. I refuse. "Is it getting better over there?"

"No," he murmurs bitterly, miserably, hopelessly. "It never will. More bombs, shootings, deaths and more deaths. Little kids are dying — kids about Kais's age. Killed in front of their parents."

"Dad ..." Ishaan Ali's face plays like a movie in my mind's eye, manifesting in the architectural window. A soft beard, tall, slender, a cheeky smile. His happiness changes into a dead body, a body that was never found. Where the hell did the basketballers hide him? "You always tell us that silence is irrational and pointless."

I know a lot of things that could get me killed. Rhett touched me in plain sight, in the school's premises. He wasn't afraid to. Who knows what else he is capable of, or his friends for that matter? Makayla advised me to evaluate the outcomes of each decision, but now I don't even know. I'm so traumatised, it's draining.