I dread seeing him.
All the way into New Jersey, my stomach twists and turns.
As we approach the large monstrosity of the governor’s house, it feels as though a heavy lead weighs me down.
There is no question my father is about to request. . . demand something of me.
Usually, there is a hefty price to be paid, but I fear the price will be steeper since I have pushed back this moment to go to college. It was inevitable that we would discuss my future, but now that I know it’s time to pay the piper, I’m not ready.
So far in life, I have given in. I have played the dutiful daughter. Smiling and political for his campaign, but now as the car he’s sent for me drives through the gates, I’m truly scared.
I’m done with college.
His requests will be more significant.
No doubt a price I’m not willing to pay.
A price I’ll have to pay.
When the car stops, I wait for the driver to exit the car and open the door.
It’s pretentious, and I hate it. But just in case a camera is flashing somewhere in the distance, I have no choice.
I step out of the car, then place my hand down and flatten my skirt.
My hair is perfectly coifed.
I am the perfect example of a politician’s daughter.
I know my father has lofty goals, and I know he will use me to further them if he can.
I take the few steps, and as if on cue, the large mahogany door swings open.
A member of my father’s staff sent to greet me.
You would think I would have the luxury of coming and going in my own house. . .
I don’t.
And let’s be honest, this is not my house. Nor was the one before.
I’ve never truly had a home.
Not true.
Ana gave me a home.
She took care of me, fed me, cleaned my cuts, and played with me for hours.
Well, at least she did before my mistake.
“The governor is in his office.”
“And my mother?” I ask as I walk through the foyer.
“She’s upstairs.”
Not a surprise. She’s always been too busy being the perfect wife to care about being a good, hell, decent mother.
She never came to my school plays. Nor did she even attend a curriculum night. Always too busy jet-setting. Hobnobbing with someone important, and most probably drunk.
Thankfully, Ana, for the time she was in my life, was there for me.
If only she were here now. She would hold my hand and give me strength. But since she’s not, I square my own shoulders and pretend she is whispering in my ear. “Plato said,
‘Courage is knowing what not to fear.’ You have no reason to fear your dad. He’s just a man.”
At the time, I didn’t know who Plato was, but I trusted that she was right. I tried to be brave and not fear him, and I’m still trying. Her voice still in my ear.
I continue toward my father’s office and find the door open.
Of course it is.
He’s waiting for me, drinking his scotch and ready to strike. You can see it in his eyes and with his posture. He oozes danger in quantities that should be illegal, and the ball of anxiety in my throat is back again.
“Come in, Viviana.”
His voice takes me by surprise. I’m lurking and didn’t think he knew I was here.
But I shouldn’t be surprised.
My father sees everything
Knows everything.
I tentatively walk inside, taking small, measured steps.
“Hurry up, Viviana. I don’t have all night, and I have something I need to speak to you about.”
My stomach feels heavy, filled with dread.
I can feel the sweat start to bead in the back of my hair, my heart pounding in my chest as I cross the space and take a seat on the chair opposite from where he sits at his desk. His dark and angry eyes stare at me as his lips thin into a sneer.
“What did you have to talk to me about?” I ask, trying desperately to sound strong and confident.
“Your graduation.”
My ears start to ring, making it hard to hear. I take a deep breath.
Show no fear.
Don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm.
As my pulse regulates, he speaks.
“I expect now that you have finished, you will do your duty for your family.”
“Duty?”
“Yes, Viviana. Your duty. Your mother and I have indulged you for way too long.”
“What does that even mean?”
“We allowed you to go to college. Allowed you to get the best education. You are now a well-spoken, educated young lady. . .”
“And?”
“Now it’s time to help us.”
I shake my head, not understanding what he’s trying to say.
“Help . . . how? Like work in your office?”
It wasn’t an ideal solution, but I would work there for a bit to get him off my case while I save money to do something else. Of course, I’m stalling. I’m not dumb and optimistic enough to assume that’s what he’s talking about.
“Come now, Viviana. You know better than that.”
“I do?” Stalling, stalling, stalling.
“Your place isn’t in the office. You are much better served elsewhere.”
“And where would that be?” My tone is clipped now.
“Making alliances.”
Cold ice fills my veins as I wait for what I know is about to come.
“I think it’s time we used your looks, personality, and now education to our advantage.”
“Umm. I don’t understand.”
“As you know, I have goals. Big goals. And in order to achieve these goals, I need to have the right connections. The best way for me to achieve this is to work with certain people.”
“Okay . . .”
“But to do this, I need to show a level of commitment. I need to tie myself to them. And you are the perfect way.”
“I'm sorry, Father, but I don’t understand what you are saying.”
“I want you to marry Salvatore Amante.”
My mouth drops open. And that ball of anxiety in my throat? It just blocked my air pipes.
“I … I can’t marry him. I don’t know him,” I somehow manage to say.
“Viviana, that wasn’t a suggestion. You will marry Salvatore Amante. I need him. He will guarantee we get everything we have always desired.”
“We? Don’t you mean you?”
“You want this too, Viviana. This is what's best for me, for you, and also for Julia.”
He slides a paper across the desk. “Read that over, and then tell me what you decide.”
The weight of the paper feels like a million pounds of stones in my hand. My head tilts down as my eyes scan it. The words blur under my unshed tears. Old scars from the past open and start to fester, but my stomach bottoms out when I see what it says, and my heart starts to race. My shaking hands drop the piece of evidence that changes everything. What I just read makes no sense. How can this be? If this is true . . . Confusion and despair like I have never felt before pulses inside me.
“Is this real?”
“It is.”
“You—”
“Silence!” he bellows. “You will not question me. You will not question what I did. Understand me . . . you will fall in line.” The threat hangs heavy in the air. “And remember what happened to Ana is your fault. What happens to her children from this moment forward . . .” Is on me. He doesn’t say it, but there is no need. Their lives are in my hands, and I’m not sure what that means for any of us.