The Liar Next Door by Nicola Marsh
Thirty-Four
Celeste
After the last time Vi asked me about her father and I snapped at her, she hasn’t broached the subject. But we barely make it home and close the front door before she says, “I don’t want to share Luna’s daddy. I want mine. Can we call him?”
Pain stabs my heart for all we’ve lost but I need to put on a brave face for Vi. She’s blameless in all this and I won’t allow the drama of my relationship with Roland to taint her. I wish things could’ve been different for us but Roland had left me no choice but to flee.
I have to protect my daughter at all costs, but that doesn’t stop me from sobbing into my pillow most nights when I lie awake unable to sleep because of how we ended.
I lead her into the kitchen, sit, and pull her onto my lap. “We’ve been through this. Your dad doesn’t want to see us anymore.”
“But he loves me. Even if he hates you.”
I’m shocked by her vehemence as she glares at me, her bottom lip thrust out in a stubborn gesture so like Roland my chest aches with remembrance.
“Why do you think he hates me?”
“Because I heard you yelling at him that last time we saw him, before I went to that birthday party and he didn’t visit anymore. Daddy hates loud voices. I know that. So he must hate you.”
“He doesn’t hate me.”
But what I hate is that Vi overheard us fighting, I hate that Roland did this to us too, and I need to make her understand.
“Sweetheart, sometimes parents don’t always agree. And rather than using calm voices like we tell children, we argue and it can get loud. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Yes it does.” She folds her arms and her usually soft, pliant body is rigid on my lap. “It means you hate each other.”
I sigh, knowing all too well how hard it is to rationalize anything when Vi is in this mood.
“But we love you.”
“Daddy likes to talk to me. He told me many times. He says he likes hearing my voice, so why can’t we call him?”
My obstinate daughter isn’t going to give in so despite every self-preservation mechanism telling me not to call, I do it for Vi. I pull up his number, relegated to contacts and out of my favorites on my cell, and hit the call button. Vi starts jiggling excitedly on my lap and I set her on her feet. I know what will happen. Roland won’t answer. My name flashing on his screen will ensure it.
When his voicemail kicks in, I hold the phone out to Vi so she can leave a message. She’s disappointed but this is better than her pestering me to call him again.
“Hi, Daddy, it’s me, Violette. I miss you. I wish I could see you. I want to talk to you. I have a new friend. And I’m doing ballet now. We have a park outside our house. It’s fun to play there. Bye.”
Tears prickle my eyes as I hit the call end button. I may despise Roland for what he did to us but he’s still Vi’s father and I have to remember that.
“When will I see him again?”
I stare at my daughter, filled with self-loathing that I have to lie to the only person in this world I love. “I don’t know, sweetie. But you’ve left a message. Let’s wait and see, huh?”
Vi appears mollified and scoots out of the kitchen without a backward glance. I hear her running upstairs and I sag against the back of the chair.
Not having Roland in our lives any longer will get easier with time but as an acute ache spreads through my chest, I realize I miss him as much as Vi.
I shouldn’t. He’s no good for us.
I ran away to Hambridge Heights for a fresh start and that’s what I need to focus on. Building a new life for Violette and me. Our family.