“Of course, doll! We're besties! Wherest thou go, I goest, and all that jazz,” Lacey laughed.
“Good. That's good to know.”
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Because right now, I need to know that someone loves me.”
She managed to change the subject after that, though it wasn't easy. She really really wanted to confess everything, see if her soul was salvageable. But she wanted Mike to be the first to know, so she held off. Convinced Lacey that it was just home-sickness, and left off with a laugh.
The next phone call she made was at once harder and easier. She dialed her parents' house.
“Honey! I been dyin' to hear your voice!”
Oh thank god thank god thank god it's him.
Mischa had always had a close relationship with her father. She and her mother got along fine, but she and her dad were on another level. He probably knew her the best of anyone, even Mike. When she and Mike had problems – which was all the time – her father was the person she ran to, the person she cried to.
“Hey, Dad, how are you?” she said, finally smiling. Really smiling.
“Oh I'm good, I'm good. Damn hip is killing me, but that's life. How are you!? How is the Italian de Janeiro?” he asked, and she laughed.
“I think you mean Italian Riviera, and that's not where I am. But where I am is really super nice. You would love it. Sunshine, beaches, hot ladies,” she told him.
“I do live for the hot ladies. Speaking of your mom, she's right here – wanna talk to her?” he offered.
“No,” Misch replied quickly, then winced. “I mean, I don't have a lot of time, so you can just relay. How're things? Feels like I've been gone for a lifetime.”
“Pffft, feels longer to this old man. I miss your face, sweetie. Things are good, real good. Retirement ain't exactly all it's cracked up to be, I'm bored most of the time. Should've come with you,” he said. When Misch had first been offered the job, she'd asked her dad to go with her. Now she wasn't sure if she was glad he hadn't come, or if it would've been better if he had come.
Don't say that. You're not a horrible person, and enjoying your time with Tal doesn't make you that way. If you had never met him, that would've been horrible.
“Yeah, yeah, I'll be home before you know it. We're going to Istanbul next week, hopefully it won't take as long as Rome did, then Armenia, then home,” she ran over her itinerary again.
“So far away. Mikey's comin' out there this weekend, isn't he?”
“Yeah. Yeah, he is.”
There was a pause, and she could hear that her father was moving around. Leaving whatever room he was in and moving to another.
“You guys talk a lot while you're over there?” he asked in a cautious voice.
“Uh, no, not really. Haven't really talked much at all, actually,” she was honest.
“Baby, you need to just say what you want, and mean what you say,” her father's voice was soft.
“I know, Dad. I know. And he and I are gonna talk. Believe me, we're gonna talk,” she groaned.
“Well, you know I love you, and I support any decisions you make,” he assured her. She took a deep breath.
“Really, Dad? Any decision?” she challenged him.
“Of course, sweetie.”
“What if I decide to shave my head and pierce my nose?” she threw out there, and he laughed. “Or what if I quit my job and become a trapeze artist? Or … what if I joined a commune, shacked up with three different guys?”
The last one was as close as she could get to testing his fatherly love in regards to her indiscretion.
“If you wanna look stupid, that's your own choice, doesn't make a difference to me, and I always loved the circus, so I would be thrilled if you took that trapeze job. And while I don't think you're cut out for commune life, as long as those boys treat you right, I'm sure I could get used to it,” he responded to all her suggestions.
Mischa took another deep breath and closed her eyes. Let her head drop back. Let the setting sun burn the side of her face. Let her thoughts run on and on, until her father asked if she was still there.
He was very intuitive, they were very close, and he knew something was up. Knew something was wrong. But Mischa wiggled around, made small talk, and eventually worked her way off the call. Made kissy noises in the phone before she said goodbye.
In Rome, she'd always been busy. With work during the day, then all her evenings with Tal. So her days and her nights had been filled. In Positano, the free time was killing her. She'd lain awake for hours the night before, her mind and heart racing. Going over and over what she would say to Mike. Going over and over what she wished she'd said to Tal.
Her next night was shaping up to be the same. There was some sort of festival going on in the town, but she wasn't about to take part. She planned on ordering up some room service and trying to find something, anything, to distract herself. Maybe pull her fingernails off with a pair of tweezers. Anything. The idea of talking to Mike made her want to throw up, but the idea of never seeing Tal again … it was actually worse. It made her want to explode.
When she'd been making her rounds with the phone, she had tried calling another friend, and the girl hadn't answered, so when her cell rang, Misch assumed it was her. She was laying face down on her bed, trying to suffocate herself with the pillows, so she didn't even look at it, just groped around for her phone and brought it to her ear.