Thirty #2
“Vanessa,” he interrupts me, reaching across the table to take my hands in his and giving me a look full of compassion and…dread. “I’m not…not the man you think I am.”
My brain is spinning so rapidly that I can’t even remember my own name. It’s as though I’m just waking up from a nightmare, unable to distinguish reality from fantasy. There’s only emptiness. A sense of emptiness that presses in on me until I can’t breathe.
“I–I don’t think I get it,” I swallow, struggling to form coherent thoughts.
“When I met your mother, she had just moved back to Corvallis.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “You had just turned one, and Esther and I made the decision that I would legally recognize you as my daughter.”
That confused feeling is back, even stronger than before. Like a flashback in a TV show, I go through every single memory I have of him. I analyze his moves, actions, words. Looking for a single moment in all those years we lived together when I should have figured it out.
But there’s nothing.
Not even one moment.
I toss my head. Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I never even got on a plane to Montana.
We never came to this café. We didn’t start talking about the past. I have to be dreaming, because otherwise, it would mean that I’ve been living a lie all these years.
My entire life…it was a lie. His words circle around in my head, chasing each other like an echo.
He…he…isn’t my father… I can feel my body freezing up, and I force myself to blink several times in an attempt to focus my eyes.
“That’s why you’ve been able to keep away from me all this time, isn’t it? You could do it because, deep down…you knew the bond we had wasn’t…that it was built on a lie. That’s why you chose Liam, because he…” I gasp for breath. “He’s actually your son, while I…I…”
“No, Vanessa, don’t ever think that. I may not be your biological father, but I raised you and loved you as if I were.
And I suffered just like you suffered. But I was forced to go along with your mother’s decision, or she would have destroyed my life.
She was so afraid that sooner or later, I was going to tell you the truth, and that fear brought out the worst in her.
She was trying to push me away because she was hurt and didn’t want to see me anymore.
She would have done whatever she had to. ”
“And you’d rather leave me, lie to me, and make me hate you than just tell me the truth!” I shout.
“I stupidly thought it would be easier for you to deal with my abandoning you than to learn such an upsetting truth. And it wasn’t just about me either. I had people I needed to protect.”
This is all too much for me.
I jump up uncontrollably, looking around in a bewildered way. Then I do what I always do when the world comes crashing down around me: I run away as fast as I can.
“Vanessa!” he calls, following me out of the café.
I stop and whirl around, raising a hand to stop him.
“Don’t come any closer,” I breathe, my voice broken with pain.
“Don’t.” I feel like everything I knew has been stripped away from me.
My life, my certainties, my identity. And the worst part is that the person who did it is the same person I loved with all my heart.
“Please, let me help you deal with this. Don’t run away,” he whispers hoarsely, his eyes bright and imploring.
“Don’t run away?” I repeat indignantly. “You and Mom betrayed me. You kept me in the dark for years, about everything! And who knows how much longer you would have continued if I hadn’t convinced you to talk to me?
Maybe forever,” I add angrily. “How am I supposed to continue living my life knowing that there’s some man out there in the world who probably looks like me, who has my same blood running in his veins, and he’s a stranger to me? ”
The way he looks at me, he somehow seems even more disturbed than I am. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”
“Yeah, well, I should have listened to you!”
“Vanessa, please calm down.”
Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down?”
“You…you know who he is? What his name is?”
He gives me a heartbroken look. “I never knew a thing about the man. Esther didn’t want to talk about him, and I didn’t want to pry.”
I’m finding it increasingly difficult to breathe as I realize that my life is nothing but a succession of men abandoning me as if I am worthless. And for a moment, I find myself thinking maybe they’re right.
Taking advantage of this moment of hesitation, Peter—the man who, until a minute ago, I called Dad—puts his hand on my arm.
“Don’t you dare touch me. Don’t come after me. Just keep on ignoring me and never contacting me like you’ve done so far.” It’s the last thing I say before turning my back on him.
I run until my legs give out. Gasping, I try to pull air into my lungs. I prop myself up on a bench that I cling to as if it’s a lifeline while I try to wrestle back control over my rudderless body and mind.
This is just like last time. My hands are sweating, I’m trembling, and I can’t breathe.
I’m having another panic attack. And once again, I can’t control it.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to concentrate on my agitated breathing.
I remember what Logan said, how he told me it was all in my head. That I could control it.
And I try, I really try to control it, but it’s stronger than I am. I need someone who is stronger than it.
So in the midst of my panic, I pull my cell phone out of my pocket. After a few seconds, I hear Thomas’s voice on the other end.
“Hello?”
My heart skips a beat, and my pulse, instead of calming down, pounds even faster than before. I open my mouth and try to say something, but nothing comes out.
“Hello?” he says, getting irritated. I try to speak again, and I fail, again.
My lips are sealed. I close my eyes and rest a hand on my chest. I realize that only now is my breathing finally evening out.
It’s as though just hearing the sound of his voice, even at an incredible distance like the one between us, is enough to give my body the strength it needs to calm down.
“Ness…” he whispers hesitantly after a few seconds. “Are you there?”
I’m chastened by the sound of my name. My eyes fly open, and I realize immediately that I’ve made yet another stupid mistake. I hang up, furious with myself. How is it possible that, after everything he’s done to me, he’s still the first person I look to when I have a moment of weakness?
I slump down on the bench, absurdly hoping that, at any moment, someone will pinch me and tell me this is all just a bad dream. That none of what I was just told is the truth. But the only person who can do that is my mother. Running my fingers through my hair, I decide to give her a call.
“Vanessa?” She answers after a few rings, sounding skeptical.
“Yes, it’s me, Mom.”
“Vanessa,” she says, stunned to hear from me again after weeks of radio silence. “Oh, thank God. I knew you’d call sooner or later.”
“I didn’t just call for a chat,” I press the palm of my hand to my temple because my head is spinning. “I have a specific reason.”
“Tell me.”
“Do you know where I am?”
“I don’t know… At school, I presume?” she says uncertainly, like she struggling to understand. Then she asks me, “Wait, where are you calling from?”
“I’m in Montana.”
I hear her dry swallow. “W-what?”
“Billings, specifically.”
It’s a few seconds before she responds. “If this is a joke, Vanessa, it is in very poor taste.”
“Oh, I wish I were joking, but I assure you I’m not.”
“Why…why did you go to Billings?”
A few minutes ago, I was still in a state of shock, but now I can feel my anger mounting. She’s still pretending, she’s still messing with me. “You really can’t think of a reason?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I talked to Dad,” I declare, deciding to put an end to this farce. “Or at least, to the person I thought was my father.”
“Come home right now,” she orders a few seconds later. “Do you hear me, Vanessa? Come home,” she repeats decisively.
I stare stiffly out into space, my fingers tightly grasping the phone.
It’s true. It’s all true. She’s been guilty all along.
She’s been screwing with me all these years.
She let me build up all this hatred for my father; she led me to believe a completely incorrect version of the situation.
She talked badly about him and took advantage of his absence right up until the end.
She manipulated all of us like puppets for her own ends.
A wave of anger swamps me. I spit in a low voice, “You and I are done.” I pause before adding, “Forever.”
“Vanes—” she begins, but it’s too late. I’m hanging up.
I call an Uber instead and hurry over to the ranch to get my bag.
I’m so blind with rage that I don’t care about anyone anymore: my mother, who keeps blowing up my phone, my father, who comes to Ralph’s and begs me desperately to let him drive me instead of taking another Uber. I shoo him away aggressively.
I don’t know how to deal with a single word of what I’ve been told. But I know that I’m going to have to. I’ll have to find the strength.
He’s not my father.
So who is my father?
Where is he?
Why didn’t he acknowledge me as his daughter?
Did he ever try to find me?
Is he…alive?
I feel like I’m losing my mind. I put my bag over my shoulder and leave a note on the bedside table thanking Ralph for the hospitality. Shortly thereafter, I’m back at the airport. Yesterday, I was so afraid and uncertain about the idea of seeing my father again, and today I just feel…lost.
I don’t know what to do or where to go. Staying here doesn’t make sense anymore. Going home is out of the question. I was serious when I told Tiffany that I needed to get away from Corvallis for a little while. Now, after what I’ve learned, it’s the last place I want to be.