Tangling Hearts

75. Annie

Chapter Seventy-Five

ANNIE

C hristiano: staring at me with a spatula in his hand. My heart: filled with guilt and self-loathing.

I stare until it goes to voicemail. I have to tell him it’s really over. It's not fair to let him continue to hope I might be coming home to him, when there's no way I will now.

I love Brendan.

Christiano needs to know.

Staring at the screen, I go to click on his name, but the phone rings in my hand, a picture of my mom's laughing face staring back at me. “Mom. Hi. Wow. Are you psychic?”

“Oh, were you thinking of me?” Her voice is cheerful and as familiar as the skin on my hand.

“Kind of. I was thinking of my life, and you created that, so…”

She laughs. “I just kept thinking about you today and I thought, I should call Annie. Maybe she needs me.”

“I do need you, Mom. And I love you, just so you know.”

She pauses at my tone. “I love you, too. Everything okay?”

“Is that Annie?” my dad’s voice calls, from far away.

“Yes! Did you want to talk to her? Hold on. He wants to talk to you, too. I’m putting you on speaker.” I hear the shuffling.

“Hi lovebug!”

“Hi Dad.”

“You okay? You sound sad, kid.”

“I have to tell you guys something…”

For the next half hour, I tell them what happened, with tears unexpectedly rising to fall down my cheeks as they ask questions, horrified. “Are you okay?” “Is your bar in a bad neighborhood?” “Why didn’t you lock the door?” “I knew I was right to teach you self defense!” “When did this happen? Why didn’t you call us sooner?” and finally, “Who’s Brendan?”

I tell them the G rated version and take the opportunity to unburden myself of the truth, after a furtive glance to the door to make sure I'm still alone. In a quieter voice, I tell them, “He’s someone I knew back in college. We weren’t ready for each other then, but... I think we are now.”

“Well, I guess I can’t convince you to come home, can I?” my mom says, worried and helpless from being so far away from her child.

“No, Mom. But thank you for the offer. Part of me would love that, though.”

My dad mutters, “Well, you should get a gun.”

“I’m not getting a gun, dad. I am installing security cameras as soon as I can.”

“I’ll direct deposit some money into your account. You need to get those installed right away. Before you open those doors again. You hear me?”

“Yes. Okay. But I have insurance money coming….”

“Annie! Let me help!”

“Okay… sorry, Dad.”

My mother sighs, big and long. “I guess this means you won’t be with Christiano anymore. I was hoping to get out to Italy again.”

Smiling at her selfishness, I shake my head and walk to the window again, “You can still go to Italy, mom.”

“He's such a good cook!”

My father overlaps her, arguing, “He was too old for her!”

Staring out into the night, I say, “He wasn’t too old for me, Dad. You liked him when you met him.”

“Because he was my age.”

My mother and I both make sounds we often make at something Dad says. As if they were right in front of me, I know exactly the expressions that are on their faces. Mom rolling her eyes as she argues, “Oh, he was not that old.”

And Dad with an Irish twinkle in his eyes. “Thanks a lot.”

I walk away from the window and ask what they’ve been up to, since I have some time and seeing Mrs. Clark and Brendan talk about his father made me homesick and aware I won’t always have this chance. I listen to them tell me about a cabin they rented in Lake Michigan, how they had a ‘very nice time’ fishing, how Dad caught ‘a windfall’ and they cooked what they could eat, and froze the rest.

After he tells me in detail about the fish, he gets quiet. "You really need to get a gun."

"Dad, you don't have to worry.”

“Of course I worry.”

I sigh. “Come on, Dad. It's not like it's going to happen twice."

Impatient, he mutters, “Come on, nothin’! Fathers always worry about their little girls.”

I smile, my heart melting. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, kid.”

We say goodbye, and I promise to call again as soon as the cameras are installed.