ONE NIGHT, ONE LIE

Chapter 1

Hey Dad.” I murmured into the receiver of the prison phone, staring at my father through the demarcation glass.

“Eleanor.” His voice croaked.

“It's my birthday. I'm turning 22.” I said, knowing full well that this was going to hurt him, but also knowing that keeping it from him could hurt him even more.

He close his eyes and inhaled a shuddering breath. I could see the beginnings of tears peeking out of the corner of his eyes. His face was drawn and wrinkled heavily with age and stress, and his salt-and-pepper hair slumped lankily on his head, almost lifeless.

He opened his eyes and looked at me, his gaze beseeching me, begging me desperately without words.

“Eleanor. My baby girl. You have to know I didn't do this.” He said. He had repeated the same line again and again and again, throughout the years that I had been visiting him. It was almost like an anthem for him at this point.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice cracking as she struggled to hold in my years. “Yes, Dad. I know.”

I inhaled and drew closer towards the glass, ignoring how dirty it was as I placed my hands on it.

“I'm going to get you out, okay? Don't worry. I'll do everything to prove your innocence, and I'll get you out, even if it's the last thing I do.”

Even as I said this, I knew deep in my hearts of hearts that I didn't believe them. After my father had been arrested, every single one of his assets had been seized by the governor and the stockholders in his company, both liquid assets and otherwise. I was left with virtually nothing, dropped into poverty so fast like it was a bad joke.

“Eleanor. How've you been?” My father asked suddenly, dragging me out of my thoughts and back into the present. I blinked and glanced at him, and saw that he was watching me with concern in his eyes. I smiled sadly.

“I've been okay, I guess.” I said. I was lying, and we both knew it, judging by the look my father gave me.

“Eleanor. Please don't lie to me.” He said, and at those words I finally lost control, and words started pouring out.

“Well, what the hell do you want me to say?” I demand, and before I can reply I bulldoze on. “That it's been sunshine and roses since you got incarcerated? Dad, it's been six years! Six. f*****g. Years!”

I looked down, unable to meet his eyes. Tears were coming out of mine, making it hard to see. I ran a hand through my dull hair.

“I don't know what to do anymore Dad. I'm squeezing everything out of myself all so that I can get you out. I'm working three f*****g jobs; a waitress in the morning, a janitor in the afternoon and a bartender in the evening. Sometimes I get back home so tired that I can't even sleep? Has that ever happened to you? Being so tired that even rest refuses to come? Well, that happens to me every other day. And you know the funny thing?”

This time, I look straight at his eyes, letting him see the sorrow pouring out of mine.

“The funny thing is, I'm no closer to getting you out of her than when they put you here in the first place. I've hired every private investigator I can get my hands on, but it's either they ghost me, or they come up with nothing. So, no, I'm not fine. I'm not fine, Dad. I'm not.”

As my tirade comes to an end, I realize that the both of us are weeping now. It was oddly poetic; father and daughter, both crying about things that are out of their control. God, how did it come to this?

“Oh, my sweet child.” Dad said with a hoarse voice choked with tears. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry that your good for nothing father put this burden on you.”

“Don't.” I shake my head, getting my tears under control. “Don't blame yourself, Dad. It's not your fault. It's not any of our faults. It's just life. And I'm sorry about off-loading on you like that.”

“But–”

“Time’s up!” The guards came in to interrupt us. They seized the phone from Dad and dragged him away. I waved a limp goodbye as he left, which he returned. When I couldn't see him anymore, I leaned my forehead against the stained glass and began to really sob.

How? Why? Why did it have to come to this? Who would be so evil as to put us through this? What did we ever do to them?

WHY!?

I tried to bring my tears under control, and after a few minutes I succeeded. I replaced the phone in its holder, and I made my way out of the station, my backpack slung over my shoulder. It was the backpack that I had used in highschool; it was older and rattier now, but it was still serviceable. It's not like I was spoilt for options or anything.

It was still early in the morning, and the cold I felt was a testament to that. I walked all the way to my workplace; I didn't have the money to take the cab, so I had to use my legs.

It was a small coffee shop, practically a hole in the wall. I had gotten a position there through the help of my friend, Ana.

As I walked into the shop, I saw her already standing at the counter. We had no customers yet, so the shop was empty. She looked up from her phone at the sound of the bell, and smiled sadly when she saw me.

“Hey, honey.” She greeted me. I smiled at her as I walked deeper into the shop, searching for the toilet where I'd be able to change.

“Morning, Ana.” I said in passing. I entered the toilet and quickly removed my work clothes from the bag, then changed into it. When I went back outside, Ana was waiting for me.

“How was your visit?” She asked, leaning against the counter.

I sighed explosively, and she winced in sympathy.

“That bad, huh?”

“Not really.” I shook my head as I took the wipes and moisturizer to begin cleaning down the tables before customers started storming in. “It's just more of the same thing at this point. It's like I'm not making any progress at all; I don't know how to save my Dad, Ana.”

I fell silent, suddenly spent and tired of talking. I was focused on the table that I was wiping. I heard the sound of Ana’s feet approaching me, and suddenly she was hugging me from behind.

“It's okay, girl,” she whispered soothingly, holding me so gently that I couldn't help but sink into her arms. “You've got this. You hear me? The truth’s gonna come out sooner or later, and when it does, you'll get the last laugh.”

I chuckled at that. “Thanks, Ana.”

After that, we went back to face our respective chores. Ana was manning the register, while I delivered the drinks and food for the customers. It was a long and ardouse work, with little chance for rest or even a pause.

Even, when the afternoon lull before the lunch rush came by, the customers slowed down, and I was able to breathe for a moment. My waitressing was coming to an end; I would need to go attend to my duties as a janitor.

“Hey, are you okay?” Ana asked me with concern in her voice. I couldn't help but feel grateful at her concern.

“Yeah. I haven't slept well lately, that's all. My back’s aching me, my neck wants to fall off, my feet are killing me and I have a pounding migraine at this very moment. Other than that, I'm as healthy as an ox.” I joked, and Ana laughed at it, which made me feel a little bit better.

“Okay, ignoring that bit of dark humor for a moment, I think I have an idea of how you can unwind.”

“Unwind?” I looked at her with a puzzled expression. “Why would I want to unwind?”

She gestured vaguely in my direction. “Well, you said it yourself, didn't you? Girl, you are stressed as f**k. Why don't you relax for a while, or at least this evening, let your hair down for a while.”

“But–”

“Look, I have a friend who's hosting a party this evening. Promise me you'll attend?” She asked me, taking my hands in her and looking at me with her puppy dog eyes.

I laughed at her expression, then I thought about it a little bit. Yes, I can't deny that the stress wasn't doing any favors for me. Maybe I really did need to relax a bit. It would refresh my brain or something, give me perspective.

“Okay,” I said. “I promise. I'll attend the party.”