Months went by, and Daddy got worse.
I wrote Rome every week, not sure if he was reading my letters and not really caring at all. The outlet was there, and I needed it.
Rome,
We celebrated my seventeenth birthday at Dad’s bedside. He sang softly to me before I sang him a lullaby and tucked him in that night.
He winces in pain a lot more these days, and I’m not sure how to get better care for him.
I’ll find a way,
Katie
PS Cleopatra supposedly was not beautiful but smart enough to marry some of her political allies.
PPS I’m also reading Edgar Allan Poe. He seems to know darkness and pain better than anyone else. I need a friend like that.
A daughter’s love made me do what I had to do. I tracked down a suited man’s son in school. Jared let me into his home. He let me into his bed, too.
Weeks of my father in pain went by, and I begged Jared’s father for money. The man’s slimy gaze trailed my body over and over again. I started to learn the looks, the sly brushes of his hand, and the lift in his eyebrow when I caught him looking at me in a way he shouldn’t.
He gave me money for my dad’s medication, got me in touch with a doctor who would take my money.
One night, I got home too late for my father to think I was doing anything a normal seventeen-year-old should be doing. I handed him the meds.
His face fell, blood draining from it until he was even grayer than his usual sickly pallor. “Where did you get these?”
“I’m working. I told you. I saved and was able—”
He grunted. “Working where? These meds cost thousands, and they’re illegal to anyone—”
“I just . . .” I stuttered, not sure how to lie but knowing I had to. “I have a friend in the medical field.”
“The high school called,” he declared like I was already guilty.
I winced because I’d skipped class with Jared. “I had a headache and—”
“Jared isn’t a good friend to have, Katie. Is he the one getting you the jobs?”
How could I tell him that it wasn’t a job, just a gift from Jared’s dad, a man he must have known of?
“I don’t want you working anymore.” He emphasized the word working. Maybe he knew I wasn’t exactly working, that I’d found a clear way to make money to pay for meds but it wasn’t one he would approve of.
“Dad, just relax. We need the money.”
“No.” He slammed his hand down on the table. “I don’t want the medication. It won’t help in the long run, anyway. Stop what you’re doing, Katie. I don’t know how you got involved, but I want it to stop now.”
When his health insurance denied him again, I saw the effects immediately. Parkinson’s devoured his brain function. One little pill costing thousands could make him more comfortable, and I researched tons more that I could get access to just by talking with Jared’s father.
My daddy, the man who’d always made me feel comfortable, even when I had no momma to help me through anything, deserved to feel comfortable in his last days.
“I’m not selling drugs, if that’s what you think,” I told him.
“What are you selling, then?” He must have seen the shame in my gray eyes because his started to glisten. “Stop what you’re doing now, baby. You can’t come back from it if you keep on.”
“We need the money, Daddy.”
“I need my daughter to know she’s better than anyone. Remember what I’m telling you, Katalina. You don’t fit in because you were made to stand out.” His calloused hand shook, but his grip was firm when he took my hand in his. “You didn’t know your momma, honey, but I promise you she was just as strong.”
I left him the very next night to meet Jared. When he fell asleep, I listened to the nightly calls his father made. The price to be a fly on the wall was a roll in the hay. I learned quickly that boys my age were driven by a lot of things, but the most powerful one was a girl who knew how to use her body for pleasure. I wasn’t proud that I’d lost my virginity, but I was proud that it’d been for a cause.
Jared’s daddy became very generous. Especially when he saw that I could leave him and his son for another boy my age. After a few months, I’d climbed over Jared to the one who could help my family monetarily. Jared’s daddy didn’t mind me around if I let him feel me up, didn’t mind my sitting in on his important calls if I sat on his lap, if I gave him what he wanted.
The calls led back to Mario, to the men in suits who I knew had the money to help my father be comfortable.
Mario had sounded elated when Jimmy introduced me. He claimed he’d always wanted a daughter in the family, and my heart sped up at the idea of belonging. Maybe it was where I was supposed to be if my father passed away. Maybe everything would be fine. The first letter came a few days after that call.
This will be my first and last letter.
Jared and Jimmy are not good people.
Don’t surround yourself with trash or you’ll start to smell just as it does.
Rome
PS Cleopatra dined with rulers, not servants.
PPS Poe’s best is “The Raven.” He goes mad in missing his Lenore. I find we’re all missing something, and maybe that makes us all a little mad.
I did exactly the opposite of his instructions.
I solidified my role within the family by sitting in on those calls every time Jimmy invited me. They hooked me with their secrets and made sure I was aware that I could never share them.
All I shared was my body with Jimmy, more times than I could count.
Was love exchanging sex for something so necessary to my life? Jimmy saved my father. He sacrificed hundreds of thousands of dollars just for me.
I thought I loved him for that; I loved him even if I hated him for the same reason.
And the men on the phone became men I looked at as my family too. They asked about “Dougie” and wanted to make sure he was just as comfortable as I wanted him to be. When they talked business, they listened to me like a family would too. I was given a voice there; they respected my advice. I was the beautiful ragazza who spoke candidly, swiftly, and with just enough innocence that I was a window into many answers they couldn’t have seen. I gained respect and what I thought was their love.
But I lost my father’s love in the process.
He begged me to stop. We didn’t discuss my job, but he knew it wasn’t the respectful one he’d taught me to get.
I stuck to my reason. “We need the money.”
And we did. His hands shook less. He could walk around the house. The nurse who had started to come to help him throughout the day worked wonders with physical therapy.
Still, the last night he begged me, “Stop, Katalina. You’re better than what you’ve made yourself into.”
“I’m what I need to be, Daddy.” I powdered my face. “In a few more years, I’ll be going to college. This will pay for it.”
“Get a loan.” His voice sounded strained and defeated. “I always taught you to do what you wanted, that I trusted you to make the right decision. Don’t make me say you didn’t.”
I turned from the mirror to look him in the eyes. “You’re alive. That’s the right decision. No one was going to give a young girl like me—let alone a mixed one—a job, not in this neighborhood. I’m seventeen, and you’re still here. We’re doing fine as long as you’re here, Daddy.”
He stared at me for a long time. “The world should have given you every opportunity. They should have seen that different makes you beautiful.”
I winced and turned away from him. “I’m not beautiful, Dad. This is life-and-death. I choose life for you. Every. Single. Time.”
His stare was cavernous as he nodded, and then he disappeared down the hall.
The next morning, I found him dead in the bathtub. The note he wrote read:
You’re beautiful. I choose death so you can live. I won’t tell you to stop working with them. I know you’re in too deep. Make me proud, Katalina. Show them you were meant to stand out or get out from under them.”
