CHAPTER 199: Fresno

POV: Selene Castellano

She let it ring.

Four times.

Five.

Voicemail.

She put the phone face down on the counter and stood very still with Avalon’s hands still over hers and the kitchen suddenly a different temperature than it had been thirty seconds ago.

“You don’t have to call back,” Avalon said.

“I know,” she said.

“Tonight or ever,” he said.

“I know that too,” she said.

She didn’t move.

The phone stayed face down.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet,” she said. “Give me a minute.”

He gave her the minute.

She spent it looking at the window.

At the city outside that didn’t know or care that her father had just called for the first time in years, that he was in Fresno living under a name she didn’t know with a lawsuit funded by a man now in federal custody with a guilty plea entered Monday.

“He knows Daniel Reyes is in custody,” she said.

“Yes,” Avalon said.

“He knows the lawsuit is dead,” she said.

“Yes,” he said.

“So why call now,” she said.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I can think of two possibilities.”

“Tell me,” she said.

“He wants money,” Avalon said. “Or he wants something else.”

“Something else,” she said.

“Yes,” he said.

“Like what,” she said.

“Like you,” he said quietly. “Like the daughter he abandoned wanting to know if there’s anything left to salvage.”

She looked at the phone.

“He tried to have me killed,” she said.

“Yes,” Avalon said.

“He filed a fraudulent claim against me,” she said.

“Yes,” he said.

“For money someone else provided,” she said.

“Yes,” he said.

“And now he’s calling,” she said.

“Yes,” he said.

She picked up the phone and listened to the voicemail.

His voice was older than she remembered. It had been years but it was still his voice. The specific cadence of the man who had been her father before he stopped being anything to her at all.

Selene. It’s your father. I know I don’t have any right to call. I know what I did. Both things — the old thing and the recent thing. I know. A pause. I saw the Chronicle piece about Elena and what you’ve built. Another pause. I just wanted to say I saw it. You don’t have to call back.

She lowered the phone.

Avalon watched her face.

“He saw the Chronicle piece,” she said.

“What did he say,” Avalon asked.

“That he saw it,” she said. “And, he just wanted me to know he saw it.”

The kitchen was very quiet.

“That’s it,” Avalon said.

“That’s it,” she said.

She put the phone down again.

“He’s not asking for anything,” she said.

“No,” Avalon said.

“Just telling me he saw it,” she said.

“Yes,” he said.

She looked at the phone.

“I don’t know what to do with that,” she said.

“You don’t have to do anything with it tonight,” he said.

“You keep saying that,” she said.

“It keeps being true,” he said.

She almost smiled.

“I’m angry,” she said.

“Yes,” he said.

“I’m angry that he called,” she said. “I’m angry that he gets to just call. That he can pick up a phone and dial and I have to decide what to do about it.”

“Yes,” he said.

“And I’m—” She stopped.

“What,” he said.

“I’m not nothing about the call,” she said. “I want nothing to be nothing about it. I want it to mean nothing. He means nothing.”

“But,” he said.

“But he saw the piece,” she said. “He saw what I built and he called to say he saw it.” She looked at the window. “That’s not nothing.”

“No,” Avalon said carefully. “It’s not.”

“I hate that it’s not nothing,” she said.

“I know,” he said.

“He doesn’t deserve to not be nothing,” she said.

“No,” he said. “He doesn’t.”

She turned from the window.

“What would you do,” she said.

“I can’t answer that,” he said. “He’s not my father.”

“Hypothetically,” she said.

“Hypothetically,” he said slowly. “I’d think about what I needed. Not what he deserved. Not what was fair. What I needed.”

“And if what I need is to never speak to him again,” she said.

“Then that’s what you do,” he said.

“And if what I need is something else,” she said.

“Then that’s what you do,” he said.

She looked at the phone.

“I don’t know which it is yet,” she said.

“Okay,” he said.

“I might not know for a while,” she said.

“Okay,” he said again.

“You’re very calm about this,” she said.

“I’m not calm,” he said. “I’m giving you space.”

“There’s a difference,” she said.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m not calm. I’m furious on your behalf. I’m furious that he called and that it’s not nothing and that you have to spend any of your energy on it.” He paused. “But my fury doesn’t help you figure out what you need. So I’m giving you space instead.”

She looked at him.

“I love you,” she said.

“I know,” he said.

“Say it back,” she said.

“I love you,” he said. “Completely. Without reservation. Including right now when you’re standing in our kitchen at nine PM trying to figure out what to do about a man who doesn’t deserve the space he’s occupying in your head.”

She crossed to him.

Put her face against his shoulder.

He put his arms around her.

They stood in the kitchen.

The phone on the counter.

The city outside.

Elena asleep in the nursery.

“I’m not calling him back tonight,” she said.

“No,” he agreed.

“But I’m not deleting the voicemail either,” she said.

“No,” he agreed.

“That’s all I know right now,” she said.

“That’s enough,” he said.

She stayed where she was.

He kept his arms around her.

Outside San Francisco.

Inside just them.

And a voicemail sitting on a counter that wasn’t nothing and wasn’t everything and would wait for her to know which it was.