Whether I like it or not, I will be going with Phoenix to visit our dad.
We go to dinner as planned, but the entire meal is filled with tension. Everyone is being polite, but there’s a giant elephant in the room. When dessert is served—my favorite, crème brûlée—I finally address what nobody wants to talk about. “Why am I going to visit Dad now?”
“I’m not sure,” Phoenix says. “I’ve only been told to bring you to him.”
“And if I refuse to go?”
Phoenix hits me with a don’t make this difficult glare. “You don’t have a choice.”
“Mom,” I plead. She always has my back when it comes to my father. If anyone can keep me from having to go, it’s her.
“I told you we would discuss this later,” she says, taking a bite of her dessert.
“I have to take her from here,” Phoenix says.
My mom’s eyes widen. “Now? I thought we could return home first.”
“We’re flying out of Peretola,” he states. “The plane leaves at seven o’clock.”
“Maybe I can go first and then you can follow after,” Alex suggests, ever the peacemaker.
When we met, I was arguing with another student about a performance we were working on. She felt I was being too dramatic for the character, and I felt I wasn’t being dramatic enough. Alex walked over and played mediator—agreeing with her instead of me. Afterward, he introduced himself, to which I gave him the cold shoulder, upset he didn’t agree with me. He laughed and told me he would never be anything but honest with me, and he’s been a part of our group ever since. What started out as friendship eventually grew into more, and about two months ago, we made our relationship official. He’s sweet and thoughtful and caring, and I can see a future with him.
“I wanted to go with you,” I whine, annoyed that once again my father is messing up my plans. This is just so typical of him. He is such a mess, and it always spills over onto his family. Last summer I made plans to visit Cambridge with some friends. We set up our flights and made our hotel reservations, but because my father had issues with his business, he had to push my trip to visit him back, and I couldn’t go to Cambridge.
“Go see your dad, and once you’re done, we’ll transfer your plane ticket over so you can fly from there to Chicago,” Alex says. He reaches his hand under the table and squeezes mine gently.
“Can I do that?” I ask Phoenix.
“I don’t see why not.” He shrugs then glances at his watch. “We really need to get going, though.”
“I haven’t had time to pack.”
“I’ve been told it will all be handled,” Phoenix says.
“How long is the flight?” Alex asks.
“Five hours,” I say, slumping into my seat, frustrated. I’m twenty-one years old. My dad shouldn’t be able to dictate my life anymore. And if I were more of a bitch, I would put up a fight. But it’s just not worth it to argue. Growing up, I’ve witnessed on more than one occasion the way he treats those who argue with him. The last thing I want is to get on his bad side. My father and I have a weird relationship. When I was younger, I was his little girl. His sunshine. But once my parents divorced, it was as if I was made to choose sides. And I chose my mom’s. Ever since then, our relationship has become strained. He’s changed so much over the years. He used to be a man I could go to with my problems, but over time, his own problems have taken over his life, leaving little to no room for me. I miss him and hate him and love him all at the same time.
“Call me as soon as you arrive.” Alex presses a soft kiss to my lips. “The time will fly by and soon you will be in Chicago with me. I can’t wait to show you around.”
Everyone stands and exchanges hugs and kisses. Reluctantly, I go with Phoenix, while my mom and grandparents head back to Rome, and Alex heads back to his apartment to pack for Chicago.
The town car takes us to the airport, but where I expect us to be dropped off so we can check in and go through security, we’re instead driven around the back and onto the tarmac.
The driver pulls up to a huge sleek silver plane. Across the tail reads Global 8000 with a large letter D across the side.
“We’re flying on that?” I ask, confused. There’s no way our father can afford a seat on this plane, let alone chartering it to pick me up.
“It was given to us on loan,” Phoenix says, stepping out of the car and then taking my hand to help me out.