The Sound of Forever

Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty-Four

Julianna

After reading Mom’s letter, I check that Rayne is asleep.

I need something stronger than breathing through poses and trying to decide what to do. That letter is a few years too late. I could’ve used it when I broke up with . . . him. I don’t want to remember. But then, there’s Mom confirming what she vaguely said, “Your dad cheated on me.”

It’d be something I should let go. Yet, I don’t. Not today. I put on a sweatshirt, grab my phone and head to the kitchen where I grab a bottle of wine and a glass.

Once I’m outside sitting in one of the lounging chairs, I’m ready. The phone feels heavier than it should as I sit at the kitchen table, staring at his number. My fingers hover over the screen, trembling slightly, and I force myself to breathe deeply, inhaling and exhaling slowly until the motion steadies me.

You can do this, Julianna. You need to do this.

The thought loops in my mind, but it doesn’t make pressing the call button any easier. I hit the button before I can talk myself out of it. The ringing echoes in my ear, louder and louder with each passing second, until finally, a voice answers.

“Julie?” His voice is cautious, as if he’s unsure whether to be hopeful or brace for an onslaught. “Is everything okay?”

“Not sure if I would use the word okay,” I manage, my voice cracking slightly.

There’s a pause, long enough to make me wonder if the call dropped. Then he exhales loudly. “What’s going on?”

“Just when my future is uncertain, the past seems to be knocking on my door,” I say, but once the words are out, I’m not sure if that even makes sense.

“How can I help you?” he asks hesitantly.

“Well, Mom,” I start. “She left some letters . . .” I trail my voice before I tell him what Elena did with Mom’s belongings. How she packed mine and Oscar’s stuff in boxes after she died and didn’t let us in the house. It was hers, everything was hers. How I found some of Mom’s things in a box and I’m slowly reading the letters she left me.

He listens to everything without interruptions. “I just read one. One that confirm things she only hinted after . . . I have questions.”

“About?” he asks, there’s weariness in his tone though.

“About the divorce,” I say firmly. “About the affair.”

There’s a long silence, and I think he’s going to hang up. But then he sighs, the sound probably carrying years of things left unsaid. “What do you want to know?”

The words spill out before I can stop them. “How could you do it? How could you destroy our family like that? Did you ever think about what it would do to us? To Mom? To me and Oscar? Elena was destroyed. And then, you abandoned us.”

I take a long breath and repeat, “You. Abandoned. Us.”

“Jules, I didn’t have an affair,” he states, firmly. “I tried to explain to your mother that those were false accusations but she decided not to believe me.”

“What?”

“Nothing happened,” he says, and there’s a desperation in his tone now, like he needs me to believe him. “Your mother believed it because Elena told her. She said she caught me . . . that her friends saw me having sex with one of her classmates at a movie theater. But that’s the thing, I never went to watch movies with anyone other than your mom or you guys. She just made that up.”

I can’t speak. The words bounce around in my head, refusing to settle. “Elena?”

“She was drinking, partying . . . out of control for a while,” he says, his voice tight with frustration. “I was trying to set boundaries, to pull her back from . . . whatever she was heading toward. Your mom kept saying it was a phase and to let her be. I knew better. Though Elena didn’t like it. So she retaliated. Said I was cheating, that her friends saw me with someone else.”

“But why?” My voice breaks, and I grip the edge of the table, trying to keep myself steady. “Why would she do that?”

“Because she wanted me gone. She wanted her freedom. She wanted me out of her life,” he says, the bitterness in his tone unmistakable. “And she knew exactly how to get it. That’s the problem we had since Helen and I got married. Your mom wanted me to support Elena and be the father she never had—with conditions. She was the only one allowed to discipline her. Hence, she got away with a lot. Poor Elena, she doesn’t have a father, be more lenient.

“She lied a lot, Julianna. You lived it. You were a victim of her lies,” he reminds me. “After that, your mom didn’t believe me. She couldn’t. Elena was so convincing, and when her friends backed her up, it was . . . over. Your mother and I couldn’t move past that point. She didn’t trust me anymore. I was angry at her for letting a lie destroy our family and the love I had for her.”

I close my eyes, my teeth clenched as a wave of anger surges through me, hot and biting. My hands curl into fists, nails pressing into my palms. I know who Elena was. I know exactly what she was capable of. She had a way of manipulating everything to suit her, of stirring up trouble when she was bored or when she wanted something that was mine.

“Why didn’t you fight for us? For custody?” I ask, my voice coming out harsher than I intend. “I loved Mom, but I would’ve rather go with you than be with Elena.”

There’s a long pause, and when he speaks again, his voice carries the weight of something broken. “Because your mom threatened to tell people I was sleeping with an underage girl. Said she’d ruin me. I couldn’t risk it, Julianna. I couldn’t risk dragging you and Oscar through that. So I left.”

His words hit like a cold slap, leaving me frozen in place. An ache spreads through me, and I press the phone harder against my ear, as if that might somehow make his explanation less painful.

“You just . . . gave up?”

“I didn’t see another way,” he says, his voice trembling now. “I was broken. I could’ve lost everything. Now that I’m older, I see it differently, but back then . . . I was heartbroken. Maybe Elena never saw me as her father, but I loved her as much as I loved you and Oscar. My wife didn’t believe me, and I couldn’t think clearly. I was drowning.”

“You loved her like your child?” I ask, my voice brittle, disbelief laced through every syllable. “Even after everything?”

“I did. She wasn’t blood, but she was my kid,” he whispers. “I loved all of you. And when everything fell apart . . . I didn’t know how to fight anymore.”

I grip the phone. The frustration and sadness swirling inside me feel almost unbearable. How could she destroy our family the way she did? Sure, she was a teenager, but why?

We fall into a silence so deep it feels like it might swallow me whole. I stare at the dark trees, the words he’s just said replaying in my mind, louder and louder, until they drown out everything else.

Eventually, he speaks again, his tone hesitant. “There’s no other family, as you assumed when you called me to ask for the lake house. I’ve had trouble trusting people ever since, and I’d rather be alone. I don’t mind you calling and asking questions—I want you to. But . . . why now? Why not ask before?”

I let out a shaky breath, trying to find the words. “Back then I was a child, after . . . I assumed you didn’t care, so why should I give two fucks about the father who abandoned me?” I confess, unable to keep the pain out of my words. “I just lived with it. But now . . . I needed to know. Ever since Elena died everything looks so different. And right now, I’m trying to figure out how to grieve my sister. How to move forward. And I can’t do that if I’m still carrying this anger. I’m so mad at her for everything she did.”

“Sorry not only for your loss, but hearing that you’re going through this.” There’s a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. “Though I’m glad you called. I know I don’t deserve it, but I want to fix things between us. I want to be in your life again, if you’ll let me.”

I don’t know how to respond. There’s so much happening in my life already that the thought of adding him to the mix feels overwhelming, almost suffocating.

“I . . . I need time,” I whisper.

“Take all the time you need,” he says gently. “I’ll be here. Just a phone call away.”

The call ends, but I don’t lower the phone right away. My hand trembles, and my eyes sting as I blink back tears. The room feels too quiet, like everything is waiting for me to decide what to do next.

How do you reconcile a past filled with pain and unanswered questions? How do you let go of anger when it feels like it’s the only thing keeping you upright?

I don’t know the answers, but this is a good start, isn’t it?

I sit quietly for a long time, staring at the phone in my hands. The truth doesn’t fix everything, but it’s a start. The sound of footsteps pulls me from my thoughts, and I look up to see Keane standing at the edge of the yard. This is the last thing I need. My very hot neighbor who I have no business finding attractive dropping by.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low. “You alright? It’s strange to see you sitting at this time instead of bending yourself into a pretzel.”

I almost smile, but end up just nodding. He steps closer, setting the mug down on the table before sitting across from me.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks.

I consider saying yes. But what can I say? I don’t even know where to start. My life is more complicated than I want to admit. Just because I seem to have a hold of the present doesn’t mean that the past doesn’t fuck me up from time to time.

And this guy, why should he care?

After a long silence I finally say, “I spoke to my estranged father.”