Chapter 34
City Girl's POV:
My father was on the other side of the door. All I had to do was step through it. Feet frozen to the floor, nervously swallowing even through a dry throat, and fingers wringing together continuously. I couldn't move. I didn't want to. But I had to, because I was in the one place I didn't think I'd ever be, and I couldn't turn back now. Not with Xavier all of a sudden gripping my hand tightly. The guards were waiting for us to step through the door, to see the inmate that was waiting for us on the other side, but the nerves and anger and even some fright that was settled within me was preventing me from taking another step forward.
How the hell did I end up here?
*****
The day had been going well and as routinely as it possibly could. It was a few days after Zoe's wedding—she and Carlos were spending their honeymoon in Italy and making us jealous by sending tons of pictures—and I had obviously returned to work. Things were great; my best friend was married, work was as good as ever, and I was still basking in the aftermath of Harry and I finally dropping the love bomb on each other. I was happy and content with how things were, and certainly wasn't expecting it to be unhinged so quickly.
When I had arrived home for work, I found that my couch was being occupied by my mother, who was watching a rerun of Criminal Minds. She shut the TV off immediately, though, when I shut the door behind me and stood up to face me, a worried expression on her face that I immediately recognized. "What's wrong?" I questioned, a frown scrunching my eyebrows as I set my purse down on the couch once I was near my mother.
Mama took a breath, as if preparing herself to say the words she needed to, which would make her concerned features make sense. The distressed expression she wore spiked my own worry, dozens of thoughts running through my mind as to what could have happened that made her seem so anxious. "It's your father," she answered.
The tension in my shoulders immediately dissipated as they slumped at her words, quite a bit of the the worry being replaced by mild annoyance. Really, I didn't have time being worried about my father—or spare a thought towards him. Mama knew this, but at the same time, the genuine concern that was painted across her face made me think that this wasn't like every other conversation the two of us had about my dad.
Still, I couldn't help but distastefully respond, "Seriously, Mama? I told you, I don't—"
"He's been hurt, Vera," Mama interrupted me, the serious tone in her voice shutting me up immediately. There was a look in her eye, akin to dread, and I clamped my mouth shut as my brows scrunched together once more. Taking note of my confused expression, she released a breath before continuing. "In the yard today he, uh, got confronted by some other inmates and things got bad. He's been stabbed."
My eyes widened at that, unexpectedly feeling my heart stop for a moment as Mama's words registered in my mind. Stabbed? That sounded like some bad, cliche joke that I would've laughed at if it weren't for the utterly fretting expression Mama wore. Before I could say anything, she said, "The man who did it has been put into solitary but your father's in the prison infirmary." She paused, the worried frown on her face deepening and it made me realize just how much Mama still cared for my dad. I don't know why or how, but she did, and I wondered just how hard it is for her to know that he's been hurt. "It's pretty bad. The guy got a few hits in so your dad's gonna be in the infirmary for a while. But he's allowed visitors. We need to go see him."
Gaze darting to meet Mama's, I stared at her for a few moments, unblinking as I tried to make sense of a situation I was totally unprepared for. My dad, who I hadn't spoken to in years, was in the infirmary because some other inmate had actually stabbed him. Sounds like a bad prison movie, honestly.
"Mama—"
"I don't want any arguments, Vera," my mother snapped, her tone glaringly serious to match the change of expression on her face, eyes hard in determination. "You've put this off for long enough, and he's seriously injured. You're going and that's final."
"I wasn't going to argue," I hastily informed her, watching as her hard expression softened at my words, looking mildly confused at my sudden compliance. Biting the inside of my lower lip briefly, I let out a sigh and ran my fingers through my hair. "I'll go with you guys. To see him. I'll come."
The relief was clear on her face, shoulders slumping slightly as she shot me a suspicious look. "Really?" Mama inquired, "You're not even going to put up a fight?"
I offered a small, almost guilty smile because I knew she expected me to argue with her since I always did when she brought up my father. Giving her a hard time about this had become second nature, but now that things were suddenly so serious—more than they already were, I guess—I didn't want to fight my mother on this anymore. Not when she was so visibly worried about the man that put us through ridicule. "I—No, I'm not," I answered after releasing a short breath. Shrugging lightly, I added, "You're right; we should go see him. Especially if he's hurt."
Mama still looked a bit suspicious, even mildly confused, and I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Why the sudden change of heart?" she questioned, lowering herself to sit on the armrest of the couch next to her and looking up at my standing form.
A light yet frustrated sigh escaped me, rolling my eyes towards the ceiling before looking back at my mother and her curious expression. Did she seriously want me to explain myself to her?
Guess so, after all the years of rejection I threw her way.
"Because he's hurt," I answered matter-of-factly, pursing my lips at the unsatisfied look on Mama's face. "And. . . You're right. It's time that I go see him. I've been putting it off for too long"
Mama's eyes widened slightly at my words, words that I had to practically choke out because I couldn't believe I was saying them. For eight years I had managed to stay where I was and away from where Dad resided, and now that was coming to an end because I was finally listening to my mother's pleading. I don't know who was more shocked—me or her.
But he was hurt. He had literally been stabbed by someone else, and maybe that was a wakeup call for me. Don't get me wrong, I was still incredibly angry, hurt, and embarrassed at what Dad had done, and although he had emotionally hurt and betrayed us, that didn't mean I wanted him to be in any physical danger. Or that I was okay with someone going after him with a knife.
And despite the obvious relief Mama was showing, I still couldn't help but think to myself what the hell I had just agreed to, and if I truly was ready to go see my father after nearly nine years of him being imprisoned.
So when she left after telling me to come to the house around noon tomorrow, I immediately went down to Harry's apartment, and the British prince almost instantly took notice of the distressed expression on my face and led me to the couch, where I proceeded to tell him about what had just taken place in my apartment.
Jagger was curled in my lap once I had finished speaking, sitting sideways on the couch with my legs folded under me as I looked at Harry. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" I found myself asking.
Harry offered me a smile that seemed like a mix of encouraging and sympathetic. "What I think doesn't matter in this situation, love," he earnestly responded. "What does your gut tell you?"
"That I should down a bottle of wine before I see him."
The green eyed boy let out a light chuckle at my words as I smiled half-heartedly. Shaking his head, Harry said, "Come on, now. You obviously agreed to see him for a reason, which is quite a big deal since you've avoided visiting him for eight years."
I sighed, dropping my gaze to the black puppy on my lap, who had grown in the past few months since Harry had gotten him. He wasn't asleep, just relaxing in my lap as his small tail wiggled every now and then. "I guess because he's hurt," I finally explained, feeling Harry's gaze on me as I kept mine lowered. "I mean, he's always been there, you know? I never went to see him or contacted him, but he was there. And when Mama came and told me someone stabbed him—there's a part of me that was kind of afraid, I guess?"
In a knowing tone, Harry prompted, "Afraid of what?"
Biting my lower lip briefly, I shrugged slightly before admitting, "Afraid that that was it. That he'd die without me seeing him for so long." I let out a groan, tilting my head back and looking up at the ceiling. "I don't know—I'm confused."
That was an understatement.
*****
And here I was now. For the longest time, I had made such a big deal about being angry at my dad, for refusing to see him because of what he had done to his family. He hurt and embarrassed and completely shocked us with his drug escapades that ultimately got him locked up. I was adamant on never wanting to see him, yet here I was, going against what I had said over the past eight years.
We were in the grey cemented hallway of the prison, nothing but a door separating Xavier and I from our father. Mama was already inside, giving us—mostly me—a few minutes to get my wits together before entering. The visitor's tag felt unnervingly heavy as it remained clipped to the neckline of my shirt, and part of me wanted to throw it to the ground and get the hell out of here.
But it was too late, because with one squeeze to my hand, Xavier used his free one to turn the doorknob and open the door. The two guards didn't spare us a glance as Xavier walked in, prompting me to follow behind him as I took in a deep, preparing breath. This was it.
Following Xavier through the door, I saw that it was a single roomed infirmary. The guard that had signed us in said that Dad was in the visitor's infirmary, where only one inmate got to be in it at a time when he had people visiting him, before being moved to the main infirmary which is much bigger and has more beds. This one, though, was just a room with a sink and cabinet counter on one side, two chairs, and a bed with a heart monitor on the side. One chair was occupied by my mother, and the heart monitor let out beeps every other second as it connected to the man occupying the bed.
Hesitantly, my eyes wandered over to the figure sitting on the bed, flitting past my mother who was looking at me and Xavier with a hint of concern in her eyes. But I didn't look at her for long, because my gaze landed on the man I hadn't seen for something short of ten years.
My father sat up on the bed, leaning back against some pillows as his head turned towards us upon hearing the door open. I swallowed the lump forming in my dry throat, taking in his appearance; obviously, he seemed a lot older than I remembered him to be. His short dark hair was now peppering with grey, some lines on his face that show much he's aged. A five o'clock shadow littered his jaw where a small yet noticeable purple bruise had formed, but his eyes were the same. The same hazel ones that I never seemed to have forgotten.
The grip I had on Xavier's hand tightened, though he gave no reaction, as my eyes remained glued on the older man sitting on the bed. He wore the dark grey inmate uniform, and aside from the bruise on his jaw and the I.V. stuck to his arm, he didn't show any signs of injury. But I knew that wasn't the case—he was probably wrapped up under his shirt wherever he had been attacked.
"Xavier. Vera."
His voice, deep and slightly hoarse but strikingly familiar, snapped me out of my overwhelmed daze as I looked at him, feeling my stomach tighten in knots. A mildly incredulous yet hopeful and joyed expression took over his face as he looked at my brother and I. His only two children whom he hadn't seen in years.
I couldn't find any words to say, though I knew hello would be the proper start. Thankfully, Xavier took over as he cleared his throat and evenly responded, "Hi, Dad."
Dad's hazel eyes flickered over to Xavier, and I felt brief relief over not feeling his intense stare on me for now. My heart was wildly beating in my chest, you would think I was in the face of grave danger, but it was all nerves and years of sadness and anger sending my heart into overdrive. I'm surprised I was still standing upright at the moment.
"You guys have grown up a lot," Dad commented matter-of-factly, but the wonder and amazement were evident in his tone. The regret was detectable, too.
Part of me wanted to scoff and say obviously to his statement, but I still hadn't found my tongue. Xavier, who seemed to be holding himself together a lot better than I was, didn't give away anything in his expression as he answered simply, "Yeah." He took a step further into the room as the door shut behind us, with me having no choice but to follow him reluctantly. "Are you okay?"
Dad instantly began playing off any pain he may have been feeling. "Oh, yeah, yeah. I'm alright," he responded. His eyes then met mine, and if I had felt frozen before, I was practically glued to the floor and the blood had ceased pumping in my veins as our gazes locked. He, expectedly, made the first move as he offered a small and hesitant smile as he said, "Vera. You've grown up so much—I hardly recognized you."
Yeah, I bet. That was both of our doing; him going to prison and myself refusing to set foot in this building until today. "Yeah, time flies," I responded in a stiff, awkward tone. Though I could kind of make sense of my jumbled up feelings, I didn't necessarily know how to acknowledge them in my manner of speaking towards my estranged father.
There was a brief, obviously awkward, silence until Mama stood up and said, "Sit down, kids," as she gestured to the two chairs, before sitting down on the bed by Dad's feet. She was so comfortable to sit by him, as if they weren't divorced or he wasn't in prison for selling drugs, and it reminded me that unlike me, this wasn't her first time coming here.
Rigidly, I sat down in the plastic chair closer to Mama and further from Dad as Xavier took the other, my hands on my lap as I nervously yet absently wrung my fingers together. It was insane how I could practically feel the nerves in my body constantly jumping, accompanying my jittering knee.
Once we were seated, the welcoming smile was still on his face, but the hesitation behind it was clear. "I'm so glad you two are here," he stated earnestly. I couldn't help but notice that smiling made him appear younger; not like someone in his early fifties. Dad's hazel eyes met my dark brown ones as he added, "Your mother tells me you're the Head Editor at your publishing firm, Vera. That's amazing."
My eyes flickered over to Mama, who was offering a pleading yet encouraging smile towards me, and I forced myself to let a tiny smile slip as I nodded and responded, "Yeah; the youngest they've seen."
Dad shook his head in awe. "Fantastic." The sincere admiration was evident in his tone and expression, and something twisted in my chest at that. He knew he was in the wrong and he was being all pleasant and walking on eggshells, and that just made me want to scream even more. In general or at him, I wasn't completely sure. Dad then looked at Xavier as he smiled, "And how's that granddaughter of mine? She's, what now, five?"
"Almost, yeah," my brother nodded, pausing for a second before surprising me by pulling out his wallet and asking, "Wanna see a picture of her?"
I couldn't help but watch in unfiltered incredulity as Dad happily nodded and Xavier pulled out the photograph he had of Felicity in his wallet; a professionally taken portrait they had done on her fourth birthday last year. Watching as Dad took the picture, he smiled fondly as he looked down at it, and I wondered if this was the first time he was actually seeing a picture of his granddaughter. Somehow I doubted it, because if Mama came to see him every so often, I'm sure she's shown him pictures. But I guess it was different since Xavier was the one showing the photograph.
"She's beautiful, bud," I faintly heard Dad say, though I honestly wasn't paying attention because my gaze had dropped to my hands in my lap as I anxiously picked at my yellow painted nails.
I wanted to run out of here. Sitting in this dingy room with my family that hasn't been a complete family in years was starting to feel like too much for me to handle. Having a simple conversation with my father was something I couldn't bring myself to do, which wasn't all that surprising to me.
Apparently some time had passed with me staying quiet, because I was suddenly brought back to reality by the sound of my dad's voice as he lightly commented, "You're quiet, Vera." My eyes met his instantly. "You were always a talkative kid."
All of their eyes were on me, waiting for a response, and I couldn't bite my tongue back as I let slip coldly, "I guess my dad getting arrested for drugs didn't leave me with much to say."
Mama's eyes widened in warning and Xavier sucked in a breath at my words, while my lips thinned and Dad's expression fell slightly. I could feel my expression harden and blanken at the same time, refusing to give sign of any type of emotion, as Mama rolled her lips into her mouth and shook her head, looking away and up at the ceiling. She knew this conversation was only a long time coming, but she still wasn't prepared. She's not the only one.
Sucking in a breath, I bit the inside of my cheek and looked down at my hands once again, unable to bring myself to look at my parents and brother. The tense silence hung in the air heavily, weighing down on us as each of us tried to find something to say to break it.
Appropriately, Dad was the one to speak up first. "I know you're angry at me, Vera, and I deserve that." I scoffed lightly at the obvious fact, eyes still on my hands. If I kept picking at my nails I'd have to redo them. "You can't possibly understand how sorry I am for what I did."
"Then why do it in the first place?" I snapped, head lifting to finally look him in the eye, my brows forming a glare. Mama and Xavier were silent as they watched my patience disappear. "What the hell were you thinking? How was selling drugs a good idea in your mind? How could you have been so stupid?"
Mama bristled. "Vera—"
"I looked up to you," I continued, ignoring her tone of warning as my eyes narrowed even more, a look of disappointment mixing in with the anger in my tone. "And then to find out you were dealing in cocaine and heroin?" I scoffed once again in disgust. My heart was hammering with every word I spoke and tears of anger were burning in my eyes, though I refused to let them fall. "You understand how ridiculous that sounds, right? You turned out to be someone completely different, and the rest of us were judged by everyone around us. We couldn't even explain to people what happened because we didn't even understand it! How could you do that to us?"
Letting out a sharp breath once I was finished, I shook my head, running a hand over my mouth as I tried to calm myself down. No doubt the guards outside the room heard every word I said, but I didn't care. Mama's expression had turned to one of sadness and she looked like she was about to let a couple of tears loose, biting her lower lip and keeping her gaze fixed on her lap. Xavier's jaw was tightly clenched, head turned and eyes on the wall as his Adam's apple bobbed. He was trying to keep himself together, too.
But my dad held the look of utter guilt and regret on his face. His eyebrows were drawn together in remorse and he was looking at me with a look on his face where he knew he had let us all down. The silence fell upon us once more as we sat in the aftermath of my words, the only sound being Dad's heart monitor eliciting the beeps of his heart rate. My throat felt dry after finally letting out some of what I had been wanting to say for years to the man I hadn't wanted to see, and I looked away and blinked, pushing back the tears I had successfully not let fall.
"I deserved that," Dad finally said, his tone quiet and somber. I rolled my lips into my mouth, still facing the opposite way of him as I braced my hands on my thighs. "And I don't deserve your forgiveness, I know that. But I'm still going to apologize, Vera, because I am so sorry. What I put you, Xavier, and your mother through wasn't fair at all. You deserve a better father than that."
A bitter breath escaped me as I finally looked at him, shaking my head once as I frowned. "Telling me what I deserve isn't going to change anything," I pointed out. I've had enough. Standing up, I held my hand out to Xavier, who looked at me in confusion until I said, "I'm gonna wait in the car. Give me the keys."
If possible, Dad's expression fell even more, but I ignored it as Mama started, "Vera, you—"
"Let her go, Zara," Dad cut her off, giving Mama a small albeit sad smile as she looked at him and Xavier dropped the keys to the car in my hand. My fingers fisted around the cool metal as Dad looked at me and said, "I'm glad you came, Vera. I know none of this has been easy."
My jaw clenched briefly as I made my way towards the door. Hand on the doorknob, I looked back at him, licking my lips before reluctantly saying, "Feel better," before opening the door and stepping out.
The next few minutes rushed by as I made my towards the entrance of the prison, dropping off my visitor's tag before stepping outside in the warm New Jersey air. It wasn't until I got to my brother's car and shut the door once I was in the passenger seat where I felt my willpower crumble.
And then I cried.