In Between the Lines

Chapter 11: The Old Man and the Sea (Part 1)

"Why didn't you tell me she was going to be staying with us for two weeks?" I didn't bother to keep my composure as I spoke to my father on the phone. All four walls of his study were lined top to bottom with ancient, leather-bound books, and a lavish Persian rug swept across the floor—so I wasn't too concerned about my voice bouncing through the walls and reaching my mother in the living room as I said, "I was completely blindsided!"

"I'm sorry, Princess," he said. "It's just that I knew if I told you she was coming you would react—well, like this. Besides, she sounded really apologetic when she called. She misses you and wants to make things right. You're her daughter. I couldn't refuse her that."

I shook my head, pacing the length of the room as I willed my heart to calm down. But it wouldn't. The thought of that vile woman being under the same roof as me for two entire weeks . . . I blindly reached for one of the books on the shelves beside me and chucked it across the room, the spine hitting the far wall with a quiet thud before it fell to the ground in a random sprawl of pages.

It didn't make me feel any better.

"I just don't think it's fair," I said. "You're only letting her stay here because you don't have to see her as much. While you're off at work, I'm stuck dealing with that witch."

"Adalyra Rose Sullivan." My father's voice was stern. "She might live somewhere else now, but she is still your mother."

I scoffed. "That woman stopped being my mother the day she abandoned us."

A moment of silence passed before my father spoke again. When he did, his voice was resigned—tired. "I'll work on getting one of my colleagues to come out here and finish up these contracts for me, and I'll try to be home by tomorrow morning. Just hold out for me for the night, will you, honey?" He sounded desperate enough that I calmed down, just a breath. I knew that if my father was willing to find someone to take his place in the middle of one of his big contracts, then he must have felt as horrible about this as he sounded.

No matter how much he already had on his plate, somehow, he always found a way to make mine easier to carry.

Which was why I closed my eyes and took a deep, deep breath before I said, "You don't have to do that."

"But—"

"No, Dad. Stay. You can't come running home every time I need you. I'll deal with her until you get back. You'll be done by Saturday anyway, right?"

"Yes, I should be back by the evening." He paused. "Are you sure about this?"

I clenched my teeth but said, "Yes. I'm sure."

He sighed, no doubt in relief. I would have too if it meant being away from my mother for a few extra days.

"You know I love you, don't you?" 

"Yeah, yeah." I exhaled. "I love you, too."

"It'll only be a few more days. I'll be home soon," he said. "And Lyra?"

"Yes?"

"Will you pick up that book you threw? I happen to enjoy Hemingway's writing." 

I only heard the beginning of his chuckle before the line clicked shut. I glared at one of the cameras in the corner of my father's study before walking over to where I'd thrown his copy of The Old Man and the Sea. How he knew which book it was, I didn't want to know.

I bent down to pick it up, pausing as one of the lines jumped out at me from the open pages:

"Fish," he said, "I love you and respect you very much. But I will kill you dead before this day ends."