Desire

XIX.

Isabel

I was mid-explanation, guiding one of the underclassmen through a tricky ballet move, when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it at first, thinking it was nothing important. I had better things to focus on—like making sure this student didn't roll her ankle.

But then it rang again.

I pulled it out, glancing at the screen. An unknown number. I usually let those go to voicemail, but for some reason, I hesitated. It rang again, persistent. Something told me I should pick up. Maybe it was important.

"I'll be right back," I said to the student, giving her a quick smile before stepping out into the hallway. The door clicked softly behind me, and I lifted the phone to my ear, pressing accept.

"Hello?"

No response.

"Hello?" I said again, my voice quieter as I stepped further down the hall.

There was a pause on the other end before a man's voice broke through. "Hi, is this Isabel?"

"Yeah, who's this?"

"My name's Carl Gibbons. I'm your father's landlord."

I froze.

"I've been trying to reach him for the past few weeks, but I haven't had any luck. He hasn't paid his rent, and I was hoping maybe you've heard from him?"

Damn it, Dad.

I blinked, my mind scrambling. "No, I haven't talked to him in... a while."

The man sighed, clearly frustrated. "Well, if you could try to reach him and let him know, it'd be appreciated. I don't want to evict him, but I'm running out of options."

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting. "Yeah... I'll try to find him. Thanks for letting me know."

I took a moment to gather myself, leaning against the cool wall of the hallway. My heart raced, each beat echoing the uncertainty swirling in my mind. I didn't know what to feel—anger, worry, guilt? All of it? My relationship with my dad had always been complicated, and this call brought everything crashing down.

"Why now?" I muttered under my breath. I hadn't heard from him in weeks, and part of me had hoped I wouldn't. But now I felt a sudden need to find him, to know where he was and why he hadn't reached out.

I wasn't sure if I was ready to open up to Lea about this either. The thought of sharing the truth about my dad made my stomach churn. I had just started to build something with her, and I didn't want to taint it with my messy family life.

She had become my escape, my safe haven from the chaos that seemed to follow me. I could almost feel the warmth of her smile, the way it lit up her eyes when she was excited about something, and it made everything else fade into the background. But how could I share this burden with her?

I sighed softly, pressing my back against the wall as I considered my options. I could always keep it to myself, wrap it up tightly in a box and shove it away like I had done so many times before. But that wasn't fair to Lea, not when she was so open and honest with me.

As I stepped back into the studio, I felt the familiar flutter of anxiety in my chest. I had to keep it together. For now, I would focus on rehearsal, on being present for Lea and our performance. I'd figure out my dad later. But in the back of my mind, I couldn't shake the feeling that I would have to confront this sooner or later.

As I stepped back into the studio, the familiar scent of sweat and wood greeted me, a reminder of the countless hours we'd spent here. Lea was at the barre, her focus unwavering, and as I approached, she turned her head slightly, concern etched on her face.