Catch Me (The RLU #5)

Chapter 2

Marcela

T here is nothing more freeing than taking your bra off after a long shift at work, and that’s exactly what I do once my front door is locked and my tote bag is hung up.

I exhale a deep sigh, but the anxiety in my chest fails to dissipate.

I’m expecting a call from my mom tonight, and I’ve been stressed about it all day, because I already know how it’s going to go.

We’ll do our small talk, and she’ll update me on any family gossip. And then I’ll hear my stepdad in the background, drunk as a skunk, making some kind of comment that’s going to upset me.

My mom met my stepdad in Costa Rica while he was vacationing there. She worked as his private chef at his winter home, and they ended up falling in love. Within a year, we packed up our home in Puerto Limon and moved to Colorado where he lived with his four-year-old daughter Jade.

I was only two at the time, so I don’t remember much from my time back home.

We usually visit once a year, and every time, I fall in love with the way the world is there. Every morning, I would wake up in my grandma’s house, the smell of her cooking always getting me out of bed quicker than normal. She typically made gallo pinto and fried eggs, my absolute favourite. We’d eat breakfast together, catching up and exchanging stories, in which she’d teach me new words in Spanish that I then would practice with my mom once we got back home.

The smell of black coffee would linger throughout the house, a scent that I associated with her as she always had fresh coffee ready to go. There was the constant sound of a fan on to keep the humidity out, mixed in with the background noise of the TV that had the local news station on.

I’d then spend the rest of the morning at the beach, reading in my own bubble surrounded by the sounds of nature. Some mornings though, I’d wake up earlier than my grandma so that I could watch the sunrise on the beach. Watching the fading night sky turn into a light blue with hints of orange and pink while the world was still quiet was stunning. It was pure bliss, and I long for that sense of peace I always find when I’m there in my life now.

I wish we’d go more. I’d love to be closer to my mom’s family there and our culture. Being there always feels like hitting the slow motion button, allowing you to relax and enjoy life.

Sometimes, it makes me wish we’d never left, because every time we do go, it makes me wonder what my life would be like had I grown up there.

That’s not to say I hate my life in Colorado, because I have a good life and grew up with everything I could ever need. My childhood was great… until I learned what it was like to live with an alcoholic.

My stepfather never once laid a hand on me, Jade, or my mom.

But his words were scarring.

I think it’s where my love of books began to grow, because when I was immersed in reading, his words couldn’t hurt me. I could, for a little while, forget the way he made my mom cry, the way the wall sounded when his fist went through it, or how loud his yelling was.

I’ve always wondered why she never left him. As a kid, I thought it was a no-brainer. Someone’s being mean to you? Walk away and get help. That’s what my second grade teacher, Mrs. Denis, told me.

But now I realize how complex their relationship is, and how scary it must be for my mom to leave him and start over all on her own. Especially when he hasn’t let her work since we moved in with him, claiming he wanted her to focus on raising us. If she left him, she’d have nothing—at least until a divorce was settled and she took half of what she was owed.

Which would be a lot, since Chris is the CEO of Bass Hotels, a five-star hotel chain known across the globe.

My phone buzzing in my hand causes a ripple of anxiety to shoot through me, but I push through it and answer the call, ready to get this over with.

“ Mami .”

“Marcie, ?Qué es la vara? ” My mother’s sweet voice pours through the phone.

“ Estoy cansada ,” I tell her honestly. “Work was busy, so I’m looking forward to curling up with a book before bed.”

“You work so hard. Make sure you rest and take care of yourself,” she chides, forever the helicopter parent.

“I do, don’t worry, Mami. How are things at home?” I ask with a swallow.

“ Maravillosa . Your dad and I just finished dinner, I made olla de carne,” her voice lifts excitedly, always passionate over food. “Actually, here he is now, he wants to talk with you,” she tells me, making my stomach drop.

“Marcela.” My dad’s crisp, boardroom-like voice carries through the phone, signaling he’s not drunk. Yet.

“Hey, Dad, what’s up?”

“I’m not one of your friends. I’m your father. Treat me with respect, Marcela,” his icy numbing my entire body.

I should’ve known better than to address him so casually. This is all my fault.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I hope things are going well. Is there anything I can do for you?” I say, my voice calm and collected when I feel anything but that.

While I did not think he deserved the title of being called my dad, it was a sign of respect I knew I had to show him. I’d learned the hard way what happens if I don’t.

“I’m checking in to see how school’s going. You still have a 4.0 GPA?” he asks.

“Yes,” I breathe. Even though school hasn’t even started, it’s better not to argue for fear of triggering him.

“Good, I pay for your tuition and apartment, and I expect you to return the favor by doing well. You’re a part of the Bass family, and we don’t fail,” he reminds me. His plan is to have me work for the family company, even though I have no desire to have a career in that field.

“Of course,” I say quietly.

“Speak up when you’re talking to me,” he scoffs, and I hear my mom whisper something in the background. “I don’t care if she’s shy. She needs to speak up,” he tells her, as sweat beads on my forehead.

“Sorry, Dad. I’m just really tired,” I raise my voice, desperate to placate him so he doesn’t yell at my mom all night.

He sighs into the phone. “It’s always an excuse with you.”

“How’s Jade?” I switch the focus to her, since she’s his pride and joy who can do no wrong, despite how troublesome she can be.

“She’s doing great. She’s in LA auditioning for some roles,” he explains. Jade is an aspiring actress and moved there a year ago to pursue her dream.

“That’s amazing,” I tell him genuinely, because I am so proud of her. The best thing he has ever given me is my sister. We haven’t talked as much since she moved, but we were really close growing up.

“Let’s hope you can make us just as proud.” His comment is meant to come off as motivating, yet it feels like a threat.

“I will,” I say with a yawn. “I need to get to bed.”

His tone switches to the one of the caring father he pretends to be. “Of course. Get to bed, sweetheart.”

“Night, Dad.”

I hang up the phone and immediately go to my room, where I strip out of my work clothes, shower, and settle in bed with my favorite blanket, e-reader, and a cup of chamomile tea.

As I get lost in a world of vampires, the anxiety from the earlier phone call begins to fade. In its place is a sense of comfort in knowing I’m safe here, and that one day, I can rescue both my mom and myself from him.

Once I graduate, my plan is to work for my dad for a few years while I get my master’s in English literature, with the hopes of finding work at a publishing house. Then, once I’m able to, I want to tell my mom that we don’t need him. We can be free of him. I can take care of us and all of the bills from divorcing him.

And once all is said is done, maybe then I could pursue my true dream of being an author. But first and foremost, I need to take care of my mom.

It’s in these quiet moments of dreaming of the future where my mind wanders off to a fairytale world, where my real father would have still been here.

He died of a heart attack before I was even born.

I’ve always found it odd how you can grieve someone you’ve never met, yet I do. Because I wish I could’ve known him and the life the three of us might have had together.

All I have are the beautiful stories my mom has shared with me over the years, and the only photo she saved that now sits on my dresser. In the frame is a picture of my mom pregnant with me, and my dad with his hands on her belly. It was taken a week before he passed.

It’s the only picture of us I’ll ever have, and I’ll cherish it forever.

Once my eyes grow heavy, I set my e-reader on my side table, shut the light off, and snuggle under the covers.

But sleep doesn’t come as easy as it does most nights, because I can’t get the conversation with Theo out of my head.

He hates football? That was a plot twist I didn’t see coming. He seems so happy and silly, I never would have thought he hated anything in his life.

And then there’s the flirtatious comments. We’re friends. I know it’s harmless and a part of his charming personality, but I clam up every time.

I have my ex to thank for that. I’ll never believe a thing a man says to me again, because Hunter said he loved me and wanted a family with me—only to make out with my one and only friend.

I don’t understand why Theo would want to flirt with me . We’re complete opposites. We come from two different worlds, mine much quieter than his. Although I’m happy with my looks, I also know I’m not the type of girl who would be seen on Theo Miller’s arm.

To be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Theo with a girl.

And when I think about him with someone else, I hate it.

For no good reason either, because Theo and I are friends.

That’s it.