This Love Was Out of Control - (v.f.)

XV.

“Danielle, come here please.” Phil Holloway is sitting in his living room, restlessly picking at a loose thread on his pants. When his daughter enters the room, he gestures for her to sit down.
 
“I think we need to discuss what’s happening between us. When happened yesterday and the day prior was… unsettling for the both of us, I think.” Danielle’s jaw is clenched in an attempt to keep calm, and she responds with a small nod.
 
“I want to discuss the Garrett situation—“ he is cut off by a furious Danielle.
 
“Are you kidding me, Dad? Did you really just say the ‘Garrett situation,’ did I hear that correctly? He’s not even a person now, he’s a problem. That’s exactly what my problem is. It’s like you have no feeling towards your own son.”
 
“He put himself into federal prison, Danielle.”
 
“I beg to differ; you put him in federal prison. Yes, he was in the wrong, yes he made a lot of bad decisions, but there were other ways, Dad. Even after that, you refuse to visit him, you never talk about him, and you tried to separate us. He feels like you abandoned him. You never abandon family, ever. You of all people should know that.”
 
“Your mother is different—“
 
“No, she’s not! She left us, just like you’re leaving Garrett. You’re being completely unfair. He hates you because of this, and quite frankly, I’m sick of being the mediator.” Phil is silent for a moment. He’s seeing a completely different Danielle in front of him; a bolder, more outspoken girl. Before, she wouldn’t have dared to utter a word against him. Even when Garrett was first taken into custody, she just mourned silently, never lashing out. But now she’s making her opinions known, and he knows she’s right.
 
“You’re right,” he says, sighing in defeat. “I’m being a bad father, and I’m sorry for that.”
 
“Don’t tell me, tell Garrett,” she says stiffly. “And I’m sorry for bringing Mom up, that was uncalled for,” she says, referring to yesterday. Phil opens his arms, and Danielle hugs him lightly.
 
Her phone starts to ring, and she smiles slightly, excusing herself to answer it. Vic’s name pops up on her screen, and she debates a few seconds before answering.
 
“Hello?”
 
“Oh good, I thought you weren’t going to answer,” he says, sighing in relief. “Can you meet me somewhere tonight?”
 
“I think so…”
 
“Okay great, meet me at the Twiggs Café at seven tonight. Mike is picking you up at six-thirty.” He hangs up before she can respond, and she stares at the phone for a few seconds, trying to process the information she just received.
 
“Alright,” she mutters to herself. “Hey Dad, I’m going out tonight, not sure when I’ll be home.” Phil nods.
 
“Just text me when you get home. I think… I think I’m going to visit Garrett today,” he says. Danielle smiles, happy that things are starting to fall into place.
 
“I think that’ll be good for both of you,” she says. Danielle makes her way to the kitchen and makes a sandwich, considering whether or not she should call Bethany or Jess to tell that what’s happened. She figures she probably shouldn’t, seeing as you know, they don’t need the “Danielle and Vic’s relationship problems” show.
 
At around five, Danielle takes a quick shower and starts to get ready. She can’t decide what to wear, because she’s torn between impressing Vic and acting like she gives way less of a shit than she does. She eventually settles on skinny jeans, a loose black tank top, combat boots, and a shrunken military jacket. She finishes her hair around six, and her makeup at six-ten. In the remaining twenty minutes, she paces around her bedroom. She runs through every possible scenario in her head and practically breaks her fingers tapping them on every hard surface.
 
A ring on the doorbell jolts her out of her worry, and she rushes downstairs to answer it. Mike is standing on her doorstep, smiling and dressed a little more nicely than usual. He’s swapped his usual band t-shirt for a button-up black shirt with rolled sleeves, and he offers his arm to Danielle.
 
“I’m your temporary escort,” he says, smiling. She can’t help grinning as he opens the passenger side for her. She slides in, and that’s when she realizes that Tony and Jaime are sitting in the backseat, accompanied by Jess and Bethany.
 
“Nice jacket,” says Bethany.
 
“Thanks, some weirdo left it at my house,” says Danielle. Bethany’s jacket has been in her closet for a month, so she figured it wasn’t a big deal. Besides, Danielle’s Nike leggings made an appearance on Bethany last Friday.
 
“So you’re all in on this, huh?” she asks. Bethany and Jess shake their heads.
 
“We aren’t,” says Jess, “but they are,” she says, gesturing to the boys. They all exchange knowing looks, as Mike pulls up to Twiggs.
 
“Table for Fuentes,” says Mike.
 
“I wasn’t aware you could make reservations at a café,” says Danielle, raising an eyebrow at Mike.
 
“You can’t. The owner is a family friend,” he says, as the hostess guides them to a table right in front of the stage Danielle notices is situated at the front of the café. As she glances down, she notices the flower petals all over the table, the candles scented vanilla, and the envelope on one of the plates with her name on it. She sits down in front of the plate, carefully opening the envelope.
 
Danielle,
 
Listen closely. It’ll tell you everything you need to know.
 
Vic.
 
“Listen to what?” she mutters to herself. Before she can ask one of the boys, a waiter takes their orders, Danielle ordering a Dr. Pepper and a plate of spaghetti. Jess and Bethany try to guess what’s happening with her, as the boys whisper excitedly between one another. Not five minutes after their food is brought out, a man comes onstage and starts speaking into a microphone.
 
“Welcome to Twiggs. Tonight is our weekly open mic night, so we hope you enjoy our performers! Tonight, however, we are opening a little differently. Per special request, we have a reserved opening spot. Please welcome Vic Fuentes to the stage!” A round of quiet applause went around the café, and Vic stepped onstage, guitar in hand.
 
“Hi, my name is Vic Fuentes. I’d like to say a few words about the song I am about to play. Um, I’ve been working on this for a while, and even though it’s not really in my range it means a lot to me. I messed up. I messed up with someone I care about really badly, and this song says everything I can’t put into my own words.”
 
Vic starts to play the opening chords, and Danielle recognizes “Oh Darling” by The Beatles immediately.
 
Although this is a rather emotional experience for Vic, he smiles and laughs his way through the song anyway, to distract himself from his overwhelming nerves at both the difficulty of the song and Danielle’s reaction. And some of his voice cracks aren’t because of the notes; some of them are because of the emotion he is pouring into the song, not that anyone can tell.
 
“Oh, believe me darling
Believe me when I tell you, oh
I’ll never do you no harm.”
 
Danielle is crying, not because she is sad, but because she is so unbelievably touched that Vic learned this song, the song he picked so perfectly for their current situation. And even though his voice isn’t perfect, she doesn’t need perfect, she needs real. And this is real.
 
“Thank you,” he says, before disappearing behind the curtain. He emerges a few minutes later, walking to the table where Danielle is sat. Before he can sit, she jumps up and grabs his face, crushing her lips desperately against his.
 
The kiss is salty from her tears, messy from the desperate need to reconnect, but it is perfect. It is perfect because Vic’s hands pull Danielle to him as if she’s a lifeline, and her hands caress his face as if it’s made of glass, and they have finally become one again.
 
“Oh God, you’re perfect,” she whispers, still crying as she pulls away still holding his face.
 
“Far from it, but you, my darling, are the definition of perfect,” he says, just as quietly, “and I’m an idiot for not seeing it before.”
 
They kiss again, but it’s more gentle, less desperate, and just as perfect.