“Everything okay?” Caleb asks as I set the phone back in its place.
“Yes,” I reply, my fingers tapping a nervous beat on the steering wheel.
My phone dings again, and I know I have to answer. If I don’t, it will only make it worse.
jigodie de tata:
If you don’t end it, I will send movers to pack you up and bring you home. And your boyfriend will be without a place to live.
“Want me to text back for you?” Caleb asks as I shove the phone under my thigh, my eyes stinging, my chest too tight. My entire body feels warm, my heart beating awkwardly in my chest.
“I’ve got it.”
“Is it your parents?”
“No,” I snap. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Tell him the truth? Let him go? End it?
Oh god, I have to end it. He’s going to come after us if I don’t. He’s going to take away everything I worked for. Everything I suffered for.
Oh fuck.
The phone rings, and I know I can’t ignore it. He’s mad, my unwillingness to bend the last few months making him volatile.
I hold it up to my ear, speaking in Romanian, so Caleb can’t understand what I’m about to do.
So I can hold on to him a few moments longer.
“You will go through with this,” he says, his voice low and threatening.
I swallow. “I will.”
“If you don’t, the money is gone. Everything is gone. I will make sure of it. No lawyer will be able to help you fight for it. I made sure of it.”
“I know. I’m going through with it. Just leave him alone.”
He’s silent, not promising anything, and I feel rage burn up inside of me.
“Leave him alone.”
“I do not care about the boy. I just care that it ends.”
“I know.”
“She’s visiting next week. Do not disappoint me.”
And then he hangs up, the ringing in my ears almost deafening. Panic surges through me just as anger rises into my throat.
I slam my phone into the cup holder, my fingers twisting on the steering wheel.
“Fuck!”
I slam my hand against it, the sting doing nothing to abate the pain I feel inside of me. “Fuck! Fuck this!”
Caleb stares at me, confusion and concern in his gaze. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
I breathe deeply through my nose, trying to control myself. “Nothing. I just need…fuck! Fuck! Fuck this!”
My hand slams down on the steering wheel once more, and then I try to regulate my breathing again, try to control my spiraling emotions. But it’s not working.
