28. Gabriela
Chapter 28
Gabriela
I ’m an emotional mess and I’m trying so hard to keep my shit together around Mireya. I don’t want her seeing me fall apart. Especially over a guy. She needs to know that she is my priority, not our step brother. Things couldn’t possibly get any worse for me right now. All I want to do is to be a normal almost nineteen-year-old and let my heart hurt so I can start healing.
Nope, I don’t get to do that. I have to be a mom, a sister and a provider. I just want to scream and cry my heart out. I want someone to hear me and hold me while I fall apart.
* * *
“Hello,” I answer the house phone, it was a restricted number. Thinking it was a doctor or even a wrong number, I picked it up.
You chose poorly, Gabby.
“Gabriela , don’t hang up. This is important.” Our father says, and I feel my face involuntarily shift from a smile into a grimace. What the fuck does he want now?
“What do you want?” hissing into the phone, making my way outside so I don’t upset Mireya if we argue.
“It’s not about the house. I know you won’t sell it. This is about your mother’s wedding ring. I believe it’s only fair that you return it to me since your mother and I divorced.”
Is this fucking happening? Is he fucking serious?
“You want my dead mother’s wedding ring back, now? Why?” My voice raising and I can feel my hatred for him blooming in my chest.
“It should go to Ana, since she is my wife now. It was my mother’s ring and it is supposed to go to my wife.” He sounds so sure of what he’s saying, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world.
I cannot believe what he’s saying to me. As if he couldn’t break my heart anymore. Here he goes, accomplishing just that.
“Fine, I’ll text you when I have it ready for you to pick up.” I hang up and sit down on the cold concrete porch and cry.
I hate him. So fucking much.
* * *
Dropping to the floor, holding the thin band of gold between my fingers, I stare at the tiny glinting diamond. All I can think is how shitty of a human my father is. Between cheating on my mother, who was devoted to him, she worked herself to the bone to make sure we had everything we could ever need in life. Then, when she dies, he kicks it up a notch and abandons us further. Wanting my mother’s ring back just cements how much he doesn’t care about us.
Fuck him.
I pick up my phone and send him a text.
It will be on the porch in an envelope under the mat. Do not contact me ever again. I don’t care if you’re dying. Fuck you and your wife.