Chapter 6
Ariel's pov
Before...
Noah was from Florida and his parents knew Giovana's parents. The two practically grew up together and it was because of her that he was here. Noah also left home due to internal family conflicts. They were very religious and didn't accept Noah's sexuality.
With each passing minute, my thoughts flirted with Noah and Giovana's proposal to live with them. Even though I no longer considered my house as a home, I felt cornered and afraid to make the decision to leave, to leave that place behind, where in the past, I had so many good stories... life with my mother. However, I no longer felt comfortable with my father's presence in the house. It was always insults and orders and I was always woken up with a snap. There were many things to consider.
But maybe they're both right, it's past time to get rid of that suffering. I have no obligation to support an addict. I'm twenty-one years old and I have a career ahead of me, I thought, trying hard to convince myself.
- Are you well? Giovana asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"I was just daydreaming..." I glanced at the clock and dropped my half-eaten ice cream, my eyes wide. My lunch break was over — I have to go, I'll talk to you later.
I got up from the chair and left the money in the account. I left in a hurry.
“Call me when you get off work,” Noah yelled from the middle of the restaurant, making me feel embarrassed.
I feel the people who were there looking at me and I try to leave that place soon. Back at the hospital, I put on my gown again and headed to Pediatrics. I've always been good with children, especially newborns, although I didn't have a little brother, as I always dreamed. For me, delivering babies and holding a new life for the first time was a blessing and, perhaps because I love it so much, I finally chose this specialty. But, I still had a lot of doubts about it.
The interesting thing was that, as much as I loved children and accompanied their births, I had never considered starting a family, or rather, I had never thought about having children. I also never had a boyfriend or anything like that, with the tribulations of life, there was no time for me to dedicate myself to this, my only focus was studying and work. There was also my shyness and that was always a big obstacle. Sometimes, when I decided to go out with Noah and Giovana, they tried to set me up with someone, flirt and even kiss, but it never went beyond that.
I always noticed the way they looked at me, like a piece of meat, a target, and that bothered me a lot. I wanted to get involved with a simple, thoughtful and romantic man who remembered the commemorative dates, who gave me flowers instead of expensive gifts. And the main thing: that he loved me.
Most men only approach and get to know a woman with a clear and specific goal: sex. There were other factors like drinking, drugs and partying that were never my strong point. For Giovana, these were the perfect features to get involved with. Not that it bothered me, if it made her happy I was happy for her, but as for me… well, we had different tastes.
My work schedule ended at seven o'clock in the evening. I dropped my purse on the passenger seat and closed the car door. I put my cell phone in the cradle and called Noah, and on the second ring he answered. We talked for forty minutes, talking about the schematics and reels where he worked. I listened attentively to his stories and also work gossip, but for a moment, I got distracted, thinking about my father. After all, I was returning to my private, uncomfortable hell. When I parked in front of the house, I turned off the engine and stayed inside the vehicle, facing the windows. The lights were on and that confirmed that my father was there.
“Ariel! Noah yelled from the other end of the line.
— Sorry, I got a little distracted — I composed myself, running my hands through my hair and making a loose bun — I just got back.
— Jeez... I hope you think carefully about our offer.
"I'll think!" Well, I'll have to go in now. See you tomorrow.
- See you tomorrow. Take care.” He ended the call.
I got out of the car and grabbed my bag. I locked the vehicle and headed to the front door. I had neither the strength nor the courage to continue. The house was the reason for my sleepless nights and the daily and stressful tiredness that consumed me. Spending the day working and returning home without any hassles would be fantastic. As soon as I opened the door, I saw the furniture in the living room overturned. My eyes grew heavy and exhaustion hit hard.
Dealing with her pet peeves had always been difficult, but this was new. The anger I felt was revolting. It was like I was the mother of a child twice my age. I was the one who supported, washed his clothes and cleaned the dishes, while he just insulted and offended me. But, this... this...
Unwillingly, I walked around the room, looking at the furniture, someoverturned and others broken. I saw and did not believe. I sighed and tried to keep the tears from falling from my eyes. I wouldn't like it if he showed up and found me defeated, exhausted, and stricken. I headed up the stairs and went to my room. Relieved, I realized that there everything was in its right place, which was strange. If Roberto wanted to hit me directly, he would have caused a ruckus in my room too, but I'm glad he didn't.
I put my bag on the chair in front of the vanity and got rid of my work clothes. Instead, I dressed in cooler clothes and went down to the living room again. Before I indulged in a break, I figured I'd better clean up the mess. I went into the kitchen and there wasn't a plate in the sink. Whenever I got home from work I found mountains of dirty dishes. This was the first time everything had been organized in years. I went back to the room, with the necessary accessories for cleaning that mess. I put on electronic music to soften the energy of the environment, I threw away everything that was broken and without realizing it, it was already over. It was nine o'clock at night. Upon returning to the kitchen, I prepared a quick and simple dinner, I was starving.
While I was putting away the clean plates and glasses, my father came into the kitchen and sat down in the chair.
- What you have to eat? I am starving. - I found your low voice strange. I never really understood your mood swings.
— I will serve you.
I took a plate and put the food on it. I turned to walk to the table, and when I looked at his face, I jumped. It was awful. Bruised and with evident abrasions that reached up to his arms. It was clear he had taken a beating and it made me wonder if overturned and broken furniture were signs of a struggle. Now, he held a cloth with ice, stanching the blood on his forehead, which still insisted on flowing. That cut was going to need some stitches.
-
But what happened? Let me help…” I said pleadingly, putting the food on the table, but when I tried to touch his face to assess the wound, he got up and pushed me away, furious.
-
No! I don't want your help, I don't need it!
"I'm just trying to help you, you don't have to treat me that way."
“I told you, I don't want your help. And lower your voice, I'm still your father!
"Do you lower your voice, do you think because you're my father you can yell at me?" — My simple act was wanting to help, and your hostile reaction left me feeling defeated — for years I've been playing your role: I support the house, do the homework to keep it dignified, and what do you do in return? He curses me, humiliates me, treats me like trash and not like his daughter.
"Ariel, shut up!" he ordered, evidently bothered by my words.
“I know Mom's death affected you, it affected me too, and I miss her. As if my grief wasn't enough, I had to deal with yours too and with your change. I had to mature ahead of time, I had to assume responsibilities and you didn't think about what it would cause me, you didn't care about me at any time. If Mom were alive, she would be disgusted with who you've become.
I spoke all those truths with pure hatred and between spiteful tears. In response, my dad walked over and smacked me square in the face. For years I've swallowed his insults and humiliations, but I wouldn't swallow a slap. Oh no! Not that! I reached for the plate of food that was still warm and poured it over his body, making him scream in agony. As he ran to the nearest bathroom, I strode out of the kitchen and up the stairs into my bedroom. Enough for me!