All Along

010

I'm getting a headache already. Liam understands that I need time to cope with all this. It's all happening so fast and I don't know how much more I can take before I crack.

...

Three days.

Three long, confusing, depressing, extremely overwhelming days.

It's been three days and I can't get what Liam said off my mind. The way he fell to his knees , practically begging me to forgive him taunts me. He can't acually think that I believed that apology for a split second. The sight of tears rolling down his cheeks make me giggle. He has watched me cry for so long; now its my turn. And it's his turn to hurt, to break, to fall apart, to stop himself from crying every single night because no one is there for him.

It's Thursday night and mother came home, rambling on and on about how she got an email from the man she was interviewed by saying she landed the job. Most of the story was muffled and I could barely hear what she was saying but that may have been because wshe was drunk. This really is our lucky break. We have youays been "that family." That family who couldn't go on the class field trip because their mother spent their savings on liquor. We were that family who was always late and behind everyone else.

Things are finally shaping up for us.
It's our turn to be happy; We deserve to be happy.

But the past three days my life haven't been all sunny skies and lolliepops. Within these three days, Liam has called me 34 times and I have had to block his number. Mandy in in a rather sour mood and she has been taking it out on me, of all people. The insults about my father are the worst.

"No wonder your dad left. He was probably embarrassed to be seen with you. What a pathetic excuse for a daughter. He should be happy he left!"

Don't ask me how she found out about my father, because I haven't got a clue. It could have been anyone, really. Liam, maybe my brother, even.

I try to let her nauseating comments roll off my back and not let them effect me in any way possible but that's not how it works for me. Especially when the insult is correct. She was right from top to bottom. My dad should be happy he left. Look where we are. 

One day I will spoil my children. I will spoil them rotten. I repeat the thought I have had a handful of times after the past three days.

My phone buzzes in my jean pocket and I flip it open, being mindful of the slight crack in the corner of the flip phone. It's a cheap phone but is works so I'm not complaining.

'One new message from: Unknown Number'

Unknown number? That doesn't make any sence. I haven't given anyone my number recently besides Cory but I already have him set up a contact in my phone. I blocked Liam's number so he has no way of contacting me.

I assume it's a telemarketing call and decide to delete the message, but something stops me. My subconscious tells me to open it and I'm intrigued by the glowing buttons on my flip phone.

"Please enter your password, then press pound."

I obey the command from the speaker on the phone and type in the four digit password followed by a pound sign.

"One new message from: unknown number"

I sigh, getting the feeling that Liam is just calling me off of a friends phone but I don't know if he would go to such extreme lengths to call me. Not that is considered an "extreme length," but he has never been known to try as hard as he is now.

The voice on the automated machine repeats before a male voice speaks.

"Tessa! Tessa is that you?" The voice is barely audible and I can tell the man is on a busy street. "Oh God I hope you can hear me! I'll see you soon baby, I'll see you soon, I promise. Please, please call me back! God, I miss you baby! I need to speak to you!!" I hear him whisper "thank God I found your number!" before he adds, "I love you baby girl. I love you so so much. Please, please call me back."

I gasp and feel the need to hurl. I want to vomit. I want to get sick, roll over and die. The voice was raspy and I can put together the pieces of the puzzle from "I love you so so much" too "baby girl."

I replay the message again and again, memorizing the way his voice sounds. Memorizing the way his voice cracks when he is about to cry. Letting tears stream down my cheek, I redial the number until he picks up.

"D-daddy?"