THE PRICE OF VENGEANCE

chapter 4

THE CONCERN OF THE FATHER

Isabella's point of view

My eyes stung while I read Sophia's text message. As I ate dinner alone downstairs, David had devoted the night evening to doing her boys' homework. He had treated with patience and kindness to children who were not even his. He had visited them all, but he was not with me anymore.

I turned off my phone and deleted the unread message. The house was too empty, too quiet, and too full of broken dreams. I tried to sleep by putting my pillow on top of my head, but my mind was in overdrive. I was going to call Dr. Martinez tomorrow again. I was going to confront whatever messed up with me tomorrow. But tonight I wanted to be invisible.

When sleep eventually arrived, it came with terrifying nightmares. I dreamed that Sophia's kids and David were laughing together. I dreamed about cold, untouched meals. In my dream, I was a specter in my own life, as people around me were smiling while I simply vanished like smoke in the air.

The doorbell rang at nine in the morning. I wore my crumpled black dress, hair tousled and make-up smudged, and went stumbling downstairs to the ground floor. I could see my father's old pickup truck parked in the driveway from behind the glass. As usual, he was occupying the porch with a paper bag of fresh vegetables from his garden.

"Papa," I whispered with a strained smile and opened the door. He had his usual look: work uniform, roughed hands, and kind eyes behind wire-framed glasses. But his smile disappeared when he recognized who I was. His face contorted with concern, he stepped in and dropped his bag.

After all these years spent in America, he questioned in a firm voice still retaining a trace of his accent, "Isabella, what is the matter with you?" "You look ill, baby. Are you okay? The way he would when I was young and had a fever, he touched my cheek with his rough palm.".

I lied, "I am fine, Papa," and moved back away from him so he would not notice how thin I was. "I am just working too hard. You know how busy it gets. Now, I could lie so well, as if I practiced my whole life. I had learned to pretend that I was fine.

Papa's keen eyes saw everything as he made his way around the house. At the sink, he saw that the delicate plates were still on the drying rack. The wax from the candle on the table was noticed by him. He saw David had put his coffee cup on the counter, now cold. Above all, he saw that despite both of us being present, the house seemed empty.

"Where is David?" Papa asked, but he was already aware. When Papa came to visit, David was never at home. David was constantly out and too busy to spend time with his loved ones. Even though Papa had never said so before, he had noticed.

"He is working," I hastily said. "Today is a big meeting. enormous client. One more untruth. This morning, I had no idea where David was. As he did every day now, he had gotten up and left before I awoke. I used to wonder if he slept at the workplace or even went home.

Papa gave a nod, but his expression was stern. As if he lived there, he picked up his luggage and I went into the kitchen. "I brought tomatoes," he said, scattering the summery-smelling red fruit on the counter. "As well as green beans. She canned some for you, your mom. When he came to visit, he always brought food, as though he was worried that I was not eating.

Papa brewed coffee the old-fashioned way, black and strong, while we sat at the kitchen table. He complained that with all the new regulations, the building profession was more difficult. How all the good labor was being snatched away by the large corporations. How he was concerned about occupying the lads. His comments were familiar and comforting, like a warm bath.

"Do you remember the Hayes project?" With his spoon clanging against his cup's rim, Papa abruptly interrupted. "That massive office building downtown five years ago. That job was problematic for us. enormous issues. As always, his voice trailed off and grew sentimental as he described the issues.

I vaguely recalled. For months, Papa had been under a lot of stress. calls at strange times of day and night. A lawyer comes along. When Mom believed I was not listening, she started crying in the kitchen. However, I had my own life and was a college student at the time. Papa's Job issues had not been very important to me.

“Nearly destroyed our business, that job," Papa added. "There was a tragic accident on site. A young man was killed. His relatives." Papa walked away without finishing, shaking his head. "I still find it puzzling sometimes. Consider whether there is anything we could have done differently.

My stomach felt chilly, but I had no reason to suspect the cause. Papa never talked about mishaps at work. To shield his family from the unsightly side of his job, he concealed all of it within himself. He was bringing this up now, but why?

Papa responded, "But that is old news," as he leaned over the table to grasp my hand. "I need to speak with you. About my daughter who no longer smiles. Isabella, be honest with me. Do you feel content with your life?

The question was a slap in the face. I was prepared to tell him that everything was fine, to lie again. However, I felt so much affection for Papa's worried gaze that the words stuck in my throat. His entire life had been dedicated to providing me with a more comfortable future. He had given up everything for me to be happy and married to a decent man. How could I let him know it was all in vain?

“Of course, I am fine," I said, my tongue scorching from the dishonesty. "David and I are quite joyful. We are discussing having a family shortly." Papa had to believe these things, even if I knew the deception was untrue. He must have believed his daughter was living the life he had fought so hard to secure for her.

Papa grinned, albeit it fell short of his eyes. "Good," he said. "First, Isabella, family. You will comprehend when you have children. White noise is everything else. He squeezed my hand one final time and got up. "I had better leave now. There is a lot of work today.

I led Papa to the door and gave him a firm embrace. His scent was a combination of sweat, sawdust, and Christmas fragrance that Mom had purchased for him each year. His words, "Take care of yourself," were in my hair. Additionally, look after your hubby. Love finds decent guys even when they go lost.

I sat in the kitchen looking at Papa's tomatoes after he left. Such easy, perfect things. vivacious, spherical, and red. All of which I was no more. I grasped one of them and experienced its warmth and weight.

I jumped as my phone beeped. The screen displayed Dr. Martinez's number. I had forgotten the appointment entirely. Regarding the test test. In the middle of everything that was bothering me in my life, about whatever was bothering my body.

Dr. Martinez added, "Mrs. Hayes," when I responded. "You failed to show up for your morning appointment. It is imperative that we talk about your test. Would you be able to visit after lunch today?

"What kind of results?" Even though I already knew, I asked. For weeks, I had a gut feeling that something was not right. The exhaustion. The welts. The food is flavorless. I had been too preoccupied with trying to mend my marriage to pay attention to the cues my body had been giving me.

"Mrs. Hayes," Dr. Martinez said quietly, "your lab findings showed some abnormal cells. I am concerned that it could be serious, but we will have to do some further testing."

The tomato fell and splattered seeds across the kitchen counter after slipping out of my hands and landing on the floor.