Chapter 70 - Hey Veronica! - Mduno
I was still writing to Raúl, but I had to put a stop to it. I only told my mind, as soon as I could, I would fill it with questions.
"He doesn't drink, did something happen?"
This was stupid, I couldn't help it. I put my phone away and entered the house. My father was waiting in the living room, he had already put Santiago to bed. I said goodnight.
"You can go to bed now, Dad, we're back home."
"Yes, now I'm really sleepy." I smiled.
"See you tomorrow."
"God bless you, daughter."
"Thank you, Dad."
I took off my clothes and went into the bathroom. I felt sticky, so I took a quick shower and looked for my pajamas. The phone rang. It was Flaco. D'Artagnan had already settled into his bed.
"Hi, friend." He was whispering.
"Why are you whispering?"
"We've been drinking for two days."
"Who?" My heart was racing.
"With your tormentor, and let me tell you, my Vero..."
"What?" I wanted to squeeze the words out of him.
"No. Do what you have to do and come to Bogotá, we'll talk here." I hated when he left me hanging like that.
"I can't go." I argued.
"Well, you owe me! You left me like an idiot with someone I just met, and I don't have to tell you anything about what happened in these two days. If you knew, you wouldn't be hiding in La Dorada like a coward."
"I'm not hiding." I retorted. "I'm just..."
"What? Just what?"
Raúl was waiting for an answer. What would I tell him? I didn't want to be close because I would end up begging for a bit of affection or giving in to him cheating on me whenever he felt like it. No, never!
"You're hiding, but I'll tell you what I know when you come."
"That's blackmail, Flaco. I don't want to see Roland."
"You'll stay at my place, only I'll know you're here. I'm your friend!" he insisted.
"Let me see what I can come up with. I don't want to make old Fausto angry, you don't know how ugly that is."
"Perfect."
"Don't give Roland my number."
"No, friend, although I'm already on his side. He needs to suffer a bit."
My heart stopped. Flaco wouldn't take his side unless he believed he was right or had been moved to the point of forgiveness.
"Is he sorry?"
"You have no idea, Vero."
"Raúl!" Cebolla called, knocking on the door. "Did you fall into the toilet?" I burst out laughing, my heart leaping with joy.
"I have to hang up, I'll talk to you later. I miss you, ungrateful."
"I miss you too, Flaco."
"I'm coming!"
I heard him say before hanging up. I couldn't sleep. It was very late when I finally fell asleep, with a strange feeling.
A week had passed, and I didn't know how to tell my father that I wanted to go to Bogotá for the weekend. I wanted to avoid upsetting him. The week was busier, I borrowed the car to go to my multiple appointments, and doing that enriched me a lot. Practicing my profession gratifies me.
No matter how hard I tried to forget, the memory of Roland slipped in at any moment and remained at the mercy of the absolute owner of my sleepless hours. I kept crying over him. My family said nothing, but every morning my face bore witness to the nighttime pain.
I had to tell them about the trip. After all, I was already twenty-one. I didn't need permission. I was a grown woman. Renata was serving dinner when I entered the house, all dirty and smelling of cow manure.
"How was your day, daughter?" I kissed my nanny, and she made a face of "eww!" "You won't sit at the table like that!" I smiled.
"Of course not, I'll be back in twenty minutes."
"Leave those clothes behind the house, Martina will come to wash them tomorrow."
"Ready!"
I waved from afar at Santiago, who couldn't be happier—his girlfriend was finally arriving. I took a quick shower; I was starving. When I got out, I checked my phone and saw seven missed calls from an unknown number. I called back.
"Hello?" I heard some interference. "Who is this? Hello?" Silence. I hung up. They were waiting for me at the table. If it was a client, they'd call back.
"Well, now serve us, Renata, I'm hungry."
"Dad," I was determined.
"First, I want to tell you something."
My brother and I looked at each other; it wasn't normal for our father to talk to us like that. The last time was when he told us about mom's cancer, and I didn't want to lose him too.
"It's nothing bad, so wipe those looks off your faces."
"Sorry," Santiago said. "I don't have good memories when you start a conversation with that phrase."
"Me neither," I said, and my father understood.
"I'll keep that in mind, but it's not that, it's just..."
"Dad, you're scaring us."
I commented, he always tries to keep everything calm. Renata had already set the table.
"A couple of years ago, I started paying for a family trip, and today they called to say we can take it whenever we want."
Santi and I exhaled. We weren't the only ones trying to hold it in.
"Don't scare me like that again, Dad." He burst out laughing.
"You'll get a break from my grumpiness."
"Don't even say that, grumpy!" my brother replied while I gave him a disapproving look. "Some things you don't joke about. Don't ever do that again."
"I said I'd keep it in mind."
He could drive us crazy, but he was our dad. I can't even imagine what it would be like to lose him.
"So, where are we going?" Santiago tried to change the subject.
"Panama."
We looked at each other, and slowly, smiles crept onto our faces.
"I don't have a passport," I grimaced, and they stopped laughing.
"You didn't get it?"
I shrugged and shook my head slightly. I know my dad told me a year and a half ago to get it, but with so much university work, it slipped my mind.
"We're traveling in two weeks, honey."
"I can travel this Thursday and come back Friday afternoon from Bogotá. I don't have any appointments." My father and brother exchanged looks, and I sighed. "Don't you think if I wanted to see Roland, I would have left the house already?"
"Fine, call your friend Raúl."
"Perfect."
The universe aligned with me. I needed to talk to Flaco, who hadn't said a word about it.
"Dad, can I go with Luz Marina?"
I stuffed a bite of spaghetti in my mouth, feeling both nervous and happy. Plus, I laughed a lot at the turn the conversation took among the men in the house.
"You'll cover her expenses."
"You're so tough, with all that money in your account, and you insist on living so frugally."
My parents' house wasn't ugly; on the contrary, it wasn't the luxury Roland had shown me in those beautiful, different buildings. Ours was big, had its comforts, and my mother kept it as beautiful as possible. Homes reflect the people who live in them. The walls enclose the love of the couple, which comforts the children, and this place had that, even though my mother wasn't here anymore, Dad hadn't let the house change. And I liked that; it was as if Mom were still alive.
"They're savings for you when I die."
"She'll be the mother of your grandchildren, Dad, and I know you like her. Don't be stingy."