Beautiful Pain

Chapter 16

Novalee

     I've been sitting on the couch staring at the phone in my hand for the last hour. Deacon left to run the kitchen for the dinner rush, and I've been trying to force myself to dial my fathers number ever since. I huff in annoyance and punch in Marcie's number.

"Hello?" She answers after a couple of rings.

"Hi Marcie, it's Nova. Um... I was wondering if you could come help me with something." My words come out slowly as I have to force them out.

"Sure sweetie! I'll be there in ten." She chirps with her usual gusto before hanging up.

I pace the living room and fiddle with the phone. I've never been so nervous to make a phone call in my life. Which is saying something, even calling the pizza guy to place an order makes me break out into a sweat. My hands shake uncontrollably and my stomach is clenching painfully.

After five minutes, I go to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. I fill a mug with water and stick it in the microwave, I still can't find where Deacon keeps his kettle and I'm too stressed to look around for it. I'm just setting my tea to steep when I hear Marcie knocking at the door before sweeping in.

"Hello, my dear. How may I be of service?" She throws herself onto the couch and props her head on her fist, watching me abandon my tea to join her.

"I've been thinking about what you said the other day, about calling my dad." I fiddle with my fingers as I stare at my lap. "I've been trying to get myself to to call him since Deacon left for work, but I've been so nervous."

"That's understandable, he put you through a lot. What do you need me to do?" She puts an arm around my shoulders and gives me a reassuring squeeze.

"Could you just sit with me? I think I just need someone with me when I do this." I whisper, I'm grateful when she takes my hand in both of hers and hands me the phone silently. I don't know how much more I can get myself to talk right now, and I need to save my efforts for my father.

     By now, my fingers are shaking so bad that I mess up twice before it finally starts ringing the correct number. I count them as I try to focus on Marcie gently rubbing my hand and reminding myself to take deep breaths.

One ring, two rings. Maybe he's not home yet? I glance at the clock, no its six o'clock in California, he's home.

Three rings, four rings, five rings. Maybe he's in the shower? More like passed out drunk, I scoff to myself.

Six rings, seven rings, eight rings. Maybe he's dead? I doubt I could be that lucky.

     On the ninth ring, he picks up the phone and my entire body goes rigid before he even speaks.

"Who the hell is this?" His voice is slightly slurred, but not nearly as bad as it usually is by this time of the day. This could be a good sign.

"Um, it's me Dad. It's Novalee." I mumble into the phone and clench my fingers around Marcie's palm.

"What do you want? What? That walking cock you run off with kick you out?" He chuckles maliciously and I feel my anger rise.

"Don't you dare talk about Deacon that way. He's a better man than you'll ever be." For the first time in my life, I talk back to my father. And it feels great, if not a little shocking.

"I see you've found your balls, you little bitch." I hear the pop of a beer can in the back and listen as he takes deep gulps. Just listening puts me back in that awful house, I can almost smell it.

"I just want to know why. That's it and then I'll never bother you again. Why did you treat me the way you did for all these years? You used to love me, what happened?" Marcie scoots closer to me and puts her arms around me, that's when I notice my entire body is shaking. Whether it's from nerves, fear, or anger, I'm not quite sure.

     The other end of the line goes quiet. I would have thought he'd hung up if it weren't for the soft sound of his breathing every now and again.

"Your mother happened." His voice comes out soft and pained and so very quiet. I almost don't catch it. "You've always looked so much like your mother, it used to bring me joy. Once she died, all you did was remind me that she was never coming back. You piss me off just by being around me. But I could never make you leave because you look like her. I hate you because you look like her, but I couldn't let you go for the same reason. You torture me, you make me live in hell. My own personal hell of my own creation." His tone turns bitter before he takes a deep breath and starts again.

"But since you've been gone, it's like I can finally breathe easier. I purged my life of all the shit, and now it's not as terrible. So thanks for running away with a strange man, you little slut. Don't ever come back." He says in an eerily cheerful tone before I hear a click and a dial tone.

     I hang up the phone and hand it over to Marcie, who looks just as shocked as I'm feeling. We stare at each other in bewilderment for a long minute before I burst into laughter, with Marcie joining soon after.

"Well I guess that clears that up!" I choke out over my laughter. What else can I say? My father apparently hates me for my looks and thinks I'm a big fat slut. That's cool, I can totally live with that. The longer we laugh, the lighter I feel. It's like a whole weight that's been sitting on my chest has suddenly been lifted. It's euphoric.

"My goodness, I don't think I've laughed so hard in years." Marcie says as she composes herself and wipes her eyes, "Ok, enough serious crap. What do you say we order Chinese and gorge ourselves on chick flicks?"

I smile up at her as she hops up to get a menu from the kitchen, "Sounds like a plan momma." I catch her teary eyed smile as I head to raid Deacon's blu ray collection, and can't help but fight one of my own.

Omg y'all, never try to write when you're doped up on NyQuil. Or actually, do. It's an experience. 😂 Words don't function and holy crap are they funnier.