Encounter With The Devil

my journey to paris

༒ 𝘼𝘽𝘽𝙄𝙀 ༒

The ride to Yuma, Arizona, felt much longer than I expected. Every mile stretched endlessly, like the road itself was trying to test my resolve. This would be the first time I'd see Dad since he and Mom separated.

I had always desperately wanted to visit him, even if it was just for a day. Just a few hours in his presence would have been enough. But Mom always condemned the idea, saying my dad would be of no use to me.

Before the divorce, before the ugly separation, Dad had been the better parent. Mom was barely home. It was Dad who took care of me, Dad who showed up.

When I was seven and got terribly sick, almost at the brink of death... it was Dad who stayed by my side.

Mom barely visited me in the hospital. She always claimed to be busy, and whenever she did drop by, she would scold me that if I wanted to be successful, I shouldn't let a minor illness weigh me down.

It wasn't even a minor sickness. It was pneumonia, something that could have killed me. But Mom never cared.

It was Dad who loved me like a normal parent would. He played games with me. He made silly jokes just to see me smile.

And whenever he picked me up from school, he never forgot to bring candy canes. It didn't matter if it wasn't Christmas; he said sweetness shouldn't wait for a season.

Dad was the kindest man I'd ever known.

I cried so much the day he lost custody of me. I screamed. I begged. I held onto him like a drowning child clings to driftwood. But Mom won.

Just like Mom didn't allow me to visit him, she didn't allow him to visit either. Yet he never forgot my birthday. Every single year, without fail, gifts and cards would arrive. In his messy handwriting, he'd write about how blessed he was to have me as his daughter.

Mom never remembered my birthday.

She, of all people, should remember it the most. She went through pain to bring me into this world. But she always forgot and only remembered days later, offering some half-hearted excuse.

Dad had always been the best. He would let me live freely, like a bird. I couldn't wait to see him since it had been years since I last saw him. And I was certain he would be thrilled to see me too.

The bus screeched to a halt in Yuma, Arizona. The sound jolted me out of my thoughts. My heart pounded as I stepped down, staring around without any clue where to go.

I hadn't even told Dad I was coming.

I was too emotional after discovering what kind of person Mom truly was.

I pulled my phone from my backpack to call my dad. It was still switched off, so I turned it on.

Messages from Daisy flooded my phone screen, but I ignored all her texts. I wasn't ready to talk to her.

No… that's a lie.

It wasn't that I couldn't talk to her. I just couldn't bear the look on her face when she finds out the truth about the affair my mom was having with her dad. I couldn't be the one to shatter her world.

Most especially Stella. She was like a mother figure to me, and I didn't want to hurt her with the truth only I knew about.

I pretended not to see her worried texts and called my dad. The ringing echoed in my ear, each beep tightening my chest until he finally picked up.

"Dad!" I burst out, excitement spilling from my voice.

"Abigail," he said.

Dad was the only one who called me Abigail. He claimed that Abbie was too short for his tongue. Though I preferred being called Abbie, but there was always a special kind of joy in my heart whenever he called me by my full name.

"How are you doing, Abigail?" he asked. His voice sounded tired and older.

"I'm fine," I touched my earlobe and then continued, "I'm in Arizona."

"What?" he gasped too loudly that I was forced to withdraw my phone from my ear. "What are you doing in Arizona?"

The excitement inside me faltered.

That wasn't the reaction I expected.

I had expected him to be happy that I had come to see him, instead, there was a hint in his voice that he didn't want me in Arizona.

Before I could explain why I was in Arizona, he told me he was coming to the bus stop to fetch me.

I waited thirty minutes.

Thirty long, anxious minutes.

When he finally arrived, he stepped out of an old, worn-out car. My breath caught in my throat.

He looked older.

So much older.

When he left, I was thirteen. His face had been clean-shaven then. Now there was a beard scattered across his cheeks, streaked with strands of gray. It had only been five years. How had life aged him so quickly?

But none of that mattered. He was my Papa, the one who loved me so much.

"Dad!" I ran into his arms.

He was all sweaty and reeked of dust, but I still hugged him tightly. I didn't care about the smell. I had waited five years to be in his arms again.

"Does your mom know you're in Arizona?" he asked.

The words hit me like a slap.

I stepped away from him, giving him a sad look. "You haven't seen me for years, and this is the first thing you say to me. Don't you miss me at all?" I asked.

He sighed, wiping his face with his worn-out towel.

"You're my daughter. If I don't miss you, who else will I miss? You know how your mom can be, right? I don't want any trouble from her."

Mom was trouble. But couldn't he at least pretend to be happy first?

"Does your mom know you're here?" he repeated.

"No, she doesn't," I answered, looking away from him.

"She doesn't know you're here?" he asked again, like he didn't hear me.

"No, she doesn't!" I snapped at him. "I ran away from home, okay?"

"You what? Why would you even think about running away?" He still sounded calm. Too calm. He had always been this way... soft, gentle. Maybe too gentle. Maybe that's why Mom always walked all over him.

Tears blurred my vision. I turned to face him. "Mom isn't the woman I thought she was," I choked. "She's having an affair with Matteo. It's been going on since before the divorce."

I expected shock.

Anger.

Instead… there was nothing. The expression he gave me screamed at me that he knew all along.

"You knew about her affair with Matteo?" I asked, almost choking on my tears.

My dad stared at me and nodded.

The world tilted, and I staggered back, nearly falling to the ground.

"You knew and you didn't nothing about it i" I asked, disappointment lacing my tone.

"What was I supposed to do, Abigail?" he said softly. "Your mom never respected me as her husband. The only thing I could do was divorce her after finding out about her affair with Matteo."

So that's why they got divorced—not because Mom was too controlling. My childish brain had thought Dad divorced her because of how controlling she was.

But I didn't come to Arizona to get myself drowned in my mom's bullshit. I came here to spend forty five days away from her.

"I can't stand seeing Mom right now. I have forty-five days before college begins. Can I stay with you?" I asked, hoping he'd say yes.

"Abigail, you can't stay with me," he whispered.

"Why not?" I asked, heartbreakingly.

"I live in a cramped basement. The electricity goes off most of the time. You're used to luxury. You should go back to California and talk to your mom," he said.

"Didn't you hear me saying I don't want to go back there?" I cried out. "Mom is the last person I want to see right now. How will I face Daisy and Stella?" I sobbed, holding his hand.

"I want to escape from Mom. All my life I have been drowning in her endless rules. I don't want to go back to California. I don't care about your cramped basement... I can manage. I just want to escape from Mom. It's only going to be for forty-five days," I pleaded.

I shouldn't be pleading to live with him, since he was my dad, but right now I had no choice but to beg.

Returning to California was the last thing I wanted to do right now.

He wiped my tears with his rough thumbs. Dirt lined his fingernails, proof of hard labor. My heart broke all over again.

"By now, I'm sure your mom already knows you're missing. The first person she'll come to looking for you is me. If you really want to escape from her, I'm not the right person to come to," he said.

His voice was strained, and I could feel he didn't want to send me away, but Mom wasn't someone my dad could go up against.

And I badly wished someone would put her in her rightful place. I needed someone who could cut off her wings, but unfortunately, I had no one.

"Where will I go? I have nobody to go to except for you, Dad," I sniffled.

"How about you stay with your Aunt Ruby in Paris?" he suggested almost immediately, like he had thought of it from the very beginning.

"Paris?" I muttered.

I have never been to Paris before. How would I live in a city where French was their main language?

But I didn't mind.

Anywhere was better than Mom's cage.

Anywhere was better than drowning under her shadow.

I would live anywhere.

As long as it saved me from her.