Chase chuckles. “Actually, it’s Dylan’s. Consider it audial retribution for the way he spoke to you.”
I let out a laugh. “Okay, I’ll borrow it just until I save up for one of my own.”
“Deal.”
It’s late when I enter the apartment. I added an extra course to my schedule after feeling out the first week, so it has me on campus late twice a week. I’mtired, and all I really want to do is fall into bed. Then I hear it; the sound of my father getting sick—I guess bed will have to wait. Usually, he’s passed out cold by this time—it must have been a hard day for him. Then I remember.
Today would’ve been their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary; I’m such an idiot. How could I forget that? I knew this one was going to be especially hard for him. I’d even made a mental note to try and get him out of the house to avoid this exact thing—him drinking himself even further into a stupor.
Throwing my bag on the little entrance table, I head to the bathroom. “Daddy, are you okay?” There’s no real response, just a groan. “I’m going to get you some water.”
He grabs my hand before I step away. “I’m sorry.”
There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s sorry, it’s in his eyes, the disappointment he has in himself and the guilt he carries for letting me down—for letting my mother down. I want so desperately to fix him and take away all his pain, but I can’t. He has to want to do it himself; my sessions with the therapist I had when all this started taught me that. All I can do
now is hope; hope that someday he wants to live life enough to make the change.
“I know. I’ll be right back, and then we’re going to get you cleaned up and in bed.”
As I’m heading toward the kitchen, there’s a knock at the door.
Ugh, definitely not the best time.
When I open the door, my elderly landlord greets me with a smile. “Velyn, dear, how are you?”
“I’m well, Mr. Volpe, and yourself?”
He waves me off. “Good, good. Marta feeds me well. Tells me I need more chicken.”
I let out a laugh, but then remember that my father is still laid out in the bathroom. “What brings you by, Mr. Volpe?”
His look becomes sympathetic. “Cara, I come by for rent and look under the carpet like you say, but it wasn’t there.”
I shake my head. “Mr. Volpe, I prom—”
“Ascoltare,” he interrupts in his thick Italian accent. “I clean the floor by elevator, and your father, he come in with drinks. Bottles and bottles of drinks.”
My heart sinks, and dread takes over at the realization of what he’s telling me.
No, please, no.
I look to my landlord, tears brimming at my eyes, but I don’t care.
“Mr. Volpe, I’ll have to get back to you.” He offers a nod of understanding and backs away from the door as I shut it.
I head to my father with the heavy weight of what he’s done hanging over me. When I reach him, he’s propped himself up against the tub, head resting on his bent knees and his hands cupping the back of his head.
“Dad.” He looks up, his expression changing as he sees the tears in my eyes. “Dad, please tell me you didn’t use the rent money to buy alcohol?”
He looks to the floor with no affirmation or denial, but I don’t need one. His head hanging low tells me all I need to know.
In the morning, I stopped by to speak with Mr. Volpe, and he assured me that he understood and is allowing me to pay this month’s rent in installments until I’m caught back up. Thankful and beyond grateful, I now need to figure out how to make up that extra money; my budget’s tight already.
When I arrive at the diner, Joan’s behind the counter singing away to some song playing on the radio.
“Sorry, we’re not quite open yet,” she sing-songs to the beat of the music.
“It’s just me.”
She looks up, then reaches over to turn down the volume. “Vel, why are you here so early? Wait, you’re not even scheduled to work today.”
I let out a breath preparing for the lecture I know I’m about to get. “I need to ask for more hours. Actually, I need as many as you can give me.”
Joan remains quiet for a moment, then speaks. “You know it’s not going to change. Velyn, he’s a broken man. A man so broken he doesn’t even see what he’s doing to his daughter.”
“What can I do? I can’t make him unbroken, and I can’t bring back the one person that could. All I can do is be there for him.”
She holds my gaze, then nods. “What happened?”
I move to the counter, taking a seat on one of the stools. “He used the rent money for booze. I spoke with Mr. Volpe, and he was beyond accommodating, allowing me to pay in installments. However, now I need to make that money up in my budget.”
Joan reaches for her purse, pulling out her checkbook. “How much?”
“No, absolutely not. This is my problem and mine alone. No handouts, Joan. All I need are the extra hours if you have them…please.”
She lowers her purse, knowing the argument is one she won’t win. “Okay, well, Stu’s wanted to take the evenings and early mornings to work on the flooring in the house, so I could use the help with opening prep.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Velyn, that’s all late nights and then back here at four...in the morning.”
I let out a breath, knowing I have no other options. “I know…I’ll be here. Thank you.”
