Wrong Number Right choices

Chapter four - Zee

Everywhere had grown dark around me. I hadn’t noticed when the streetlights came on. I should go inside. I knew I should.

I rummage through my pocket and found Phil’s card

I stared at the front door,my thumb was already dialing.i didn’t want to waste anytime

He picked up before I could change my mind.

“Hello? Philip Donovan speaking.” He sondes very firm

“Hi.” I heard how small I sounded. “It’s me. Zee.”

There was a pause

“Oh — what a surprise. I didn’t think I’d hear from you this fast.”

I opened my mouth to say something clever, Instead my throat sealed shut and then I was crying. Properly crying.

“Woah, woah — hey. What’s going on?”

I pressed the back of my hand against my mouth. “She won’t stop.” The words came out in pieces. “My mom. Every day it’s something — I’m sick, I’m failing, I’m —” I pushed out a breath. “I can’t keep waking up in that house, Phil.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He went quiet the way people do when they’re actually listening. “Do you want me to speak to her? I could —”

“No.” I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. “I don’t want her fixed. I want out. I need to go somewhere she isn’t.”

“Zee…” A pause. “You’re a writer. I own a furniture company. My secretary just resigned but I don’t exactly have a need for —”

“I’ll take it.”

Silence stretched between us.

“Are you sure? Because —”

“Phil, I will answer phones. I will order lunch. I will learn what a credenza is.” My voice cracked at the edges but I held on. “Please.” At the point I was desperate I need out I needed to get out .

He laughed, warm and surprised. “Alright. But I need your father’s blessing and you know that.”

“I know.” A sigh of relieve broke out of me .

“And it’s New York.”

“I know.”

“Good thing he’s standing about six feet from me.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “He just stepped away — when he comes back, I’ll talk to him. Give me a little while, okay?”

I let out a long breath and dropped my head back against the seat, the card still pressed between my fingers.

I don’t know how long I sat there before I finally went inside. I slipped through the front door quietly, kept my head down past the kitchen where my mother was watching television, and went straight to my room.

It was almost midnight when I heard the soft knock.

“Zee honey .” My father’s voice. Low, the way he always spoke when he didn’t want my mother to hear.

“Come in dad .” I sat up to focus on him.

He eased the door open and sat at the edge of my bed the way he used to when I was small. He didn’t say anything right away. Just rested his elbows on his knees and looked at his hands.

“Phil told me about what you guys spoke about ,” he said finally.

My heart seized. “Dad —”

“I said yes.”

He turned to look at me and his face was tired but decided. “New York is good. Phil is good. And you —” he stopped, rubbed the back of his neck — “you’ve been disappearing in this house. I can see it.”

My eyes burned all over again. “She makes me feel like I’m nothing here.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “Your mother loves you.” He said it carefully, like he’d chosen every word. “She just doesn’t — she doesn’t know how to show it without it coming out sideways. That’s not an excuse. I’m just —” He exhaled. “I want you to know it’s not because she doesn’t.”

I didn’t say anything. He squeezed my hand , stood up, and paused in the doorway. “You know we love you right kiddo.” He winked at me and I smiled

My dad had always been my peace and I loved that for him .

My mother found out the next morning.

I heard her voice rise through the wall, heard my father’s low steady responses, heard the silences that meant she had turned away from him. I didn’t care if she liked it or not. I was going to New York .

The bills my father and brother sent to me didn’t stretch far, but I made them work. A few blouses that wouldn’t embarrass me in an office. Two pairs of shoe, dish soap, spare towels, a set of hangers. The basics. I was going to be living under someone else’s roof, and I refused to arrive empty-handed.

Phil’s roof, specifically.

I’d Googled him once, years ago, the way you do things you know you shouldn’t. Phillip Donovan, CEO. The article had a photo — him standing in some showroom surrounded by mahogany and marble, one hand in his pocket, the other resting on a chair .

My father had mentioned the furniture empire in passing over the years, Phil’s doing well. Phil just opened another location. Phil bought a place in the Hamptons. I’d filed it away without thinking too much about it.

Now I was folding his guest towels into my suitcase.

He got married to his high school sweetheart, but got divorced five years after with no child, and didn’t even try to get married again since then. I’m talking over twenty-five years ago, and that’s weird for someone as good looking as he is.

He’s my godfather. The man had held me as an infant, and he’s off limits, I had to remind myself, but really why is the best fruits always forbidden ? .