Page 12 of Finding Fate
The back of the house is devoted to the more modern amenities like the in-ground pool and jacuzzi and full outdoor living space for cooking and socializing, while the side that starts into another lot is an immaculate flower garden, filled with color and scent and a large fancy water fountain in the middle of the pavers. It has a walkway that moves throughout the space, benches throughout, one of which overlooks a fishpond, statues of cherubs making it a spiritual place, and a small gazebo that lights up when the sun goes down for meditation and yoga. My mother had it done. It was her space.
When she left, Dad kept it up, but I often wonder why. Landscapers come weekly to tend to it, even though it’s become a waste of space. He never goes in it. Neither do I. I admire its beauty from here; though it’s been a while. Maybe in part because I’m mad that she was a coward and took the easy way out. Ran off to the Caribbean islands with the pool boy—who was younger—claiming she was in love I think, and took what inheritance money she could get in cash before my other grandparents cut her off for breaking her vows. Some of that is speculation. Dad won’t talk about it. What a cliché.
It sounds nothing like the loving mother I knew—leaving a daughter like she doesn’t exist. I can’t wrap my head around it, especially after giving birth to my son and him being taken from me. I’d never leave him willingly. I still have this theory that she got pregnant during an affair and had no choice but to leave before embarrassing her entire family—who are just as prominent and prideful as my father’s side.
My dad may be a hard man, and we fight more than we get along, but he was good to her. He didn’t deserve that humiliation. Despite them having an arranged marriage, I could tell he loved her. Never laid a hand on her, gave her everything she ever dreamed of, and never stepped out on her. If she wanted to love who she chose, then she should have done sobeforeshe took vows with someone—like me. He’s going to break me or I’m going to break him, but we’re going to spar until one lays down their sword. It’s not going to be me until I have nothing left to fight with. He can send me to Greece to live with my grandparents or he can whip me ‘til no pride is left, but one of us will give.
With that said, it doesn’t mean I don’t love him. He’s taken care of me my entire life, and he’s only ever laid a hand on me with a belt, on the backside, in a controlled environment, and doesn’t leave the room without making sure I’m aware of why I’m being whipped and reminding me he loves me. Still, it hasn’t been often, and usually he doesn’t whip as hard.
My grandfather didn’t show him the same affection following physical discipline. I think with everything he does he means well, in his own backward way. I’m just not going totellhim I love him again until he deserves to hear it.
When I sit it hurts, but I figured out if I don’t move once I do, I can deal with the belt whelps left behind. Silk pajamas are the only thing I can stand touching it, the shorts and spaghetti strap top covering my body without adding too much material, letting the air blow through the vent and kiss my injured skin, which adds a cooling effect to the mint body oil gel I put on from my en suite bathroom—the areas I could reach anyway.
My long black hair has been on top of my head since my milk bath to keep the strands from sticking in it. Sad part is, I’ve missed all of this—home, my old friends, my life, my dad even. We had a good relationship until he found out about Maddox. From the time my grandparents moved back to their home country after retiring, we’ve spent weeks visiting here and there. It’s a beautiful country. He used to come home randomly and tell me to pack a bag and would surprise me with a sporadic trip like skiing in the Swiss Alps or vineyards in Venice. My favorite was seeing a bioluminescent bay when we went to Mosquito Bay on Puerto Rico’s island of Vieques. Kayaking through the electric blue glowing water is a wonder to anyone, but to a kid it’s an experience that can’t be replicated. That was the thing I loved about my dad. Because our family originated somewhere else, he wanted me to be immersed in different cultures. To see that there is amazing life outside of one’s own homeland.
But I’ve missed Maddox more than anything the world or my dad has to offer me. Six years is a long time to miss someone. And not a day goes by that I don’t think about our son. I carried him for nine months; felt him move, talked and read to him, let him listen to music.
My entire pregnancy I stayed here with tutors to homeschool to hide it. I wasn’t allowed out except for the handful of times that I had to go to the clinic for labs or something that couldn’t be done here at home, and I was always accompanied by someone. One of the Obstetricians in the area lives in our subdivision. Due to my age my dad worked something out with her for home prenatal care.
For anything else, I could order online or have someone get it for me. When you have that much time on your hands, you find ways to busy yourself. Time is all youdohave. My unborn son became my best friend. He’s five now, almost six. I wonder how he sounds, what he looks like, if he has a loving family that gives him hugs and kisses every day. I drive myself crazy sometimes worrying that he’s not being taken care of. I often wonder if he’s happy and thriving or feels like something is missing.
Some days I hope they never tell him about us, so that he never has to think I didn’t want him, but then other days I hope they do, and that he comes to find me. And if he does, I pray like hell he’ll forgive me. I bet he started kindergarten this year. I hope he’s smart and likes school. I wish for him a full childhood with lots of good memories to reflect on one day when he’s made something of himself, because that’s the only way I can live with myself—knowing he had a better shot with a grown family than a fifteen-year-old kid trying to raise him.
I swipe the tear as it falls down my cheek that always comes from thinking about him. I keep him in my heart. He did listen to it beat inside me from the second he could hear. If my dad were as smart about me as everything else in his life, he’d realize he could have me the way he wants me—even without my son—if he’d leave my love life to me and get out of it.
The deadbolt turns on the external side of my bedroom door. Bummer. I thought he’d be asleep by now since he’s standing guard instead of whatever the hell else he’s always done a few times a month in the middle of the night. I always assumed that was his ‘single’ side of living. I’m not stupid enough to think my dad doesn’t get laid from time to time. He’s a very attractive man for his age, and if he dates, he keeps that life separate and quiet.
He’s offered me food or water a few times, trying to smooth things over, but it feels more like prison to me. I passed. Not hungry. I didn’t even have this much restriction in fucking high school once I had no baby to hide and Maddox was gone. Maybe because he knew I wasn’t stupid enough to risk another pregnancy, given I had lost one baby, and he knew Maddox meant more to me than to run around spreading my legs for other guys in the school. That left partying. He let me. I had nothing left to lose.
The door opens. I continue looking out at the gazebo’s white lights, feeling a gaze on me. Steps sound as he comes closer. “Gabby,” a deep voice says from behind me, causing me to close my eyes as my heart rate picks up. “We came for you.”
A drop falls off my lashes as a laugh tumbles out. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to hear a familiar voice. “Konnor?” I whisper, afraid to open my eyes and he not be there. “How did you know to come find me?”
“Because I know you. You’re my friend.”
Before I can think, I jump up from the seat and run at him, throwing my arms around him. Man. He smells like a man. He smells like a memory. When he was staying with us it was the first time I had a piece of happiness without Maddox. I had a real friend. Someone I could talk to and open up with, and also someone I could listen to in return. He was dealing with relationship issues at the time. He found his happiness, yet he’s still my friend. I start crying, not meaning to. I rarely cry. Crying doesn’t change our circumstances. We do. He hugs me back. “Thank you.”
He tightens his hold around my neck, holding me to his muscular chest. “Maddox is wrecked, Gabby. He thinks you left him. I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Figured as much. I should have woken him up.”
“Konnor, we need to go. I don’t know when her dad is coming back.”
I pull away from him at the sound of her voice in my doorway. Light from the hall is filtering in, and she’s looking at us. I walk toward her and stop. She’s blinking at me with her hand on the doorknob, like she’s unsure of what to say. “Presley, I think it’s time I properly introduced myself.” I wrap her in a hug. “I’m Gabby, and I’m sorry. I didn’t know you then, but you can trust me with him. Thank you for not taking my friend.”
I wait, and slowly, her arms wrap around my waist, a little awkwardly, and then she whispers, “Thank you. I’m okay with starting over if you are. Any friend of Konnor’s is a friend of mine.”
I nod against her. “I’d like that.”
“What the fuck happened to your back, Gabby?” Konnor asks.
I tense, suddenly aware I’m standing in a little bit of light. “Where did you say my dad was?” I ask Presley.
“He left. We figured this was our only opening. We need to go.”
I let go of her and run to my closet, switching on the light. “Gabby.” Konnor barks out, coming closer. “Why are there marks all over your legs and back?”
“We’ll talk about it later.” I pull down the book bag from the top of my closet and grab a handful of casual clothes, underwear, and a bra, stuffing them inside, before slipping on a pair of shoes, and then pull back the shelving section that swings open to reveal a built-in safe. My dad has them all over this house stashed with money for emergencies. I put in the combination and open it, grabbing a few stacks of cash, and then lock it back and put it all back in place like it was, returning my room to darkness.