30 Unexpected visit

"...please leave a message."

"Jo, I lied about getting into college, I was never admitted. I know you're disappointed at me but I've got no one to talk to except you... No, don't do it."

Quickly, I deleted the voicemail and recorded a new one. "Jo, I'm in a fix, I don't know what to do. Please help me. I...I can't say everything now."

I slouched into the armchair, exhaling sharply. I'd been pacing for the last 20 minutes, thinking of what I should do. After gaining the courage to open up to someone about my predicament, my sister wasn't taking her calls.

“The voicemail will do.” I nodded, looking distraughtly at the bars above, which held the roofing.

"I'll tell her everything. Jo will understand. She always knows what to do. I wish I was like her."

I swallowed sharply, before wiping the tear that rolled down the side of my face.

My eyes narrowed, glancing sideways as I heard the knock on the door. I sat up and briefly looked at my phone screen. It was 7:15 p.m.

"Who could it be?" I muttered under my breath, walking stealthily to the door,

"Who's there?"

"Addison."

My heart fluttered. What does he want? As much as our last meeting turned out disastrous, I subconsciously wished to make things right with him.

"I uh- I was in the neighbourhood, so I thought, maybe I could see you again and..." He babbled, unsure of every word he made.

I stood by the door, listening to his loud unorganized speech he was not in his right mind.

"Keren, You were right about one thing. I am still Don Carlo's son and you're still the girl on TV. I can’t run away from it no matter how hard I try. And you.” He scoffed.

“You are no different from me."

From his wavering voice to his unsteady footsteps, I could tell he was tipsy.

"I perfectly understand what losing my parents was. You may not know this but, I know damn well how it feels to be bitter and empty!"

I was frozen to my naked toes. Did he get separated from his family? Why? These thoughts bugged my mind.

"You remind me of Addison. The only difference is; I was 8 years old and no-one was deported."

A cold silence rested for a time, only the sound of retreating footfalls interrupted. I pushed myself out and called out.

"Wait!"

He was standing by the roadside close to his black Hilux which reflected the outdoor lights.

"Please stay, don't go." I stepped forward, looking intently at him.

It was dark and fairly cold outside. Despite the cream sweater I had on, I still felt cold being barefooted didn't help matters.

"I promised not to bother you again."

"Mr Addison, I was wrong about you."

"It doesn't matter now." He stepped closer and stood a few inches away from me with both hands folded across his chest.

"um... Mr Addison, I've got much to say, but I've... I've no shoes on and it's freezing out here."

"Oh! Sorry. I'm coming in then."

When inside, I offered him the armchair, "I'll get you a cup of coffee."

"Thank you."

In no time, I was back with two mugs of black coffee. I handed him a cup and sipped mine while sitting on the couch opposite him.

After the first sip, he said, "Nice coffee. My dad would love this." He placed the cup gently on the centre table, which was at arms reach for us both.

"I know little about Don Carlo, yet nothing personal about him," Instantaneously, I recalled Addison's earlier confession, "and... and nothing about your family separation."

"Yes. I don't talk about it. In truth, no one does. They all think two decades is an easy gap to fill."

He gulped down a mouth full and dropped the cup swiftly as if afraid of it, or the thoughts on his mind.

I was still processing the mass information when I said, "It's hard to imagine not being with my parents for 20 years."

He chuckled sadly and lean back looking blankly at nothing in particular.

Under the fairly bright light, I could see his face almost lost in the bushy beard. I felt a strange concern for him; given the deep-seated emotional scars which he'd masterfully concealed. Definitely, I was the trigger and he was the worst-case scenario of Kerenhappuch.

"How did you cope?" I blurted out of my train of thoughts.

"I survived. And I'm still surviving."

"I wish I can be like you."

"No." He refuted, dropping his mug as he spoke. "You were brave enough to face your fears. You're much better than me."

"Actually, I'm not as brave as you think. I'm faced with a tough decision as we speak."

He sat up, and leaned forward, looking expectantly at me. "What is the problem?