Actions had consequences. Today was a lesson for my young bride.
Some things couldn’t be undone.
The moment my father answered the phone, he didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Where are you?”
“At the hotel.”
“And Vittoria is with you?”
“Yes.”
Nunzio Scala was not the type to hesitate, and yet, he did right then. “Is she still breathing?”
Nice vote of confidence, pops.“When I left her twenty minutes ago, she was.”
Through the phone, I heard my father let out a long, relieved sigh. “Good. That’s good.”
Was it? I tried not to feel insulted. “You don’t seem too concerned about your baby boy.”
“It was a flesh wound,” was all he responded with.
Yes, it was, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like a bitch. “I didn’t call to talk about this. How’s Ella? Are the boys doing alright?”
“I loaded the boys up on sugar, let them stay up late watching a movie. They crashed out about an hour ago. I didn’t have the heart to wake them so I covered them with a blanket and left them on the living room floor.”
“Good.” At least that was one thing off of my mind. However, I loathed to ask, “And Ella?”
“Eh.” I heard shuffling, as if my father was walking away from where he was. I know I guessed correctly when lowered his voice and said, “Well, first she demanded we take her back. She got mad when we didn’t. Then she switched tactics and, sweet as pie, asked whether I could call you. I told her you would call when you could. She stormed off, slammed a few doors and now, she’s not talking to me.”
Ah, yes. I snuffled out a laugh because pops was well versed in the Ella experience.
As soon as I laughed, I felt a sharp sting of pain right in the heart and then, my smile dropped and suddenly, it didn’t seem so funny anymore.
Poor kid. After her mother, she wasn’t the same girl. In her twelve short years, my daughter had experienced more trauma than most grown adults could handle. It wasn’t fair. If I could take it away and put it on myself, I would. Alas, that’s not how the world works.
I know people meant well when they said things like, “Don’t worry. It’ll make her stronger.” And maybe they were right. It did make her stronger, but it shouldn’t have had to.
She was a child. She didn’t need strength. She needed to be protected.
“Is she up?”
My dad scoffed. “What do you think?”
“Put her on.”
“Alright. Let me find her.” It didn’t take long. I heard him knock on a door before saying, “Ella? Your dad’s on the phone, sweetheart.”
Fast footsteps echoed in my ears, a light scuffle over the phone, and I couldn’t help my smile when she demanded angrily, “Papa?”
My grin stretched wide. “Ella Bella, it’s late. What are you doing up? You okay?”
At hearing my voice, she lost all of her sass, and then her voice trembled. “I’m okay. When are you coming to get me?”
Inwardly, I hesitated because I knew it wasn’t the answer she wanted. Outwardly, I kept my voice steady and firm. “Tomorrow, baby.”
Her breathing turned shallow as she asked, “Can you come get me now? I want to be with you.”
I closed my eyes and prayed for strength when I said, “No. I can’t come get you now, Ella. I’ll see you tomorrow though, okay?”