C18: Evangeline

I hurriedly ran towards my dad as I saw him step out of the airport, securing him with my arms, giving him a tight, welcoming embrace. Dad returned the embrace and kissed my forehead with a smile.

"I missed you so much, dad," I whispered, blinking with tears. I have no plans in crying, but at some point, I've been craving a hug for the past two weeks. I don't mind telling people about my struggles, but it feels different when I get a comforting hug. Touch, after all, is one of my love languages.

"I missed you too, Eve. But I wasn't expecting tears," he commented. "Clearly you have something to tell me. Let's talk about it when we get home, or in the car, if you prefer."

"I don't want to discuss it while eating. You need to eat lunch and rest. You've been on the plane for around 18 hours, more or less."

"Let's get going. I must say, I feel exhausted. It's been a long day," he grabbed his bag and pulled it. He lifted it to fit into my car's trunk, and he sat comfortably on the passenger's seat as I drive.

"So, what's the news?"

"This may not be the best news to begin with, but aside from my resignation and the paintings that I sold, Justin and I … well," up to this point, whenever the name gets mentioned, I can't help but remember that night. The night when we last talked. I was cruel, and I felt bad about that. At the same time, I'm not regretting anything. "We broke up. I threw a party after."

"Party?" As much as I want to look at dad, I might get too distracted which will lead us to a car accident. Thinking about what happened alone feels like a curse, but it's a fact of life. Not everything that exists is meant to stay. Sometimes, it's the best people that made us happy are the ones that can hurt us the most later on. Truly, it's tiring to trust.

"Yes, party. Just for girls. Broken-hearted girls, to be precise. I needed company, you see. I can't stand the idea of being alone when I'm in distress. It makes me feel like I'm dying alone, being swallowed by my emotions. Those girls feel like family, even if I don't know them for long. I only met them online."

"What's with Justin? Should I talk to him?"

"Don't bother, dad." Please, stop mentioning his name. I heard enough of it for today. "Enjoy this place as you take care of mom. It would be a waste of time to talk to him. I have no plans on changing my mind. What's over is over."

"That doesn't sound good," he replied. "He must've done something unforgivable. I won't push further if you don't want to talk about him."

"I don't. Anything but that. At first, I was having the second thoughts if I'll accept your offer of leaving this place and for us to switch or not. But if I'll be honest, I'm already thrilled to leave. I need space from this place."

From the corner of my eye, I see my dad smiling, as if pleased to hear that from me. I'll miss him, and it saddens me that we can't be together in one place as a whole family. Now that I realized it, he never told me why we never lived under one roof – all I know was, someone was planning to kill me so they chose to let me study in North Carolina, with mom. But as I grew up, mom stayed with dad. I can't believe I didn't bother to ask for the details.

"Dad, maybe it's too late to ask for this but, who was trying to kill me when I was a kid?"

He looked at me and his facial expression falls, his eyes reflected the tragic story behind the question. Something that isn't surprising. Question is, why.

"My half-brother wanted you gone because he couldn't accept that it's Victoria and I that got married, with him outside the picture. Back then, your mom was like Venus in our school. There's the popular saying, 'may the best man win.' He was one of her suitors, but when he heard that we got married and wasn't even invited, he wanted to kill you, our only daughter, for the sake of revenge. Your Uncle Richard is a very dangerous man. You can't imagine what kind of evil ideas are running in his head.

The word 'defeat' isn't in his vocabulary. When he wants something, he'll do everything in his power to have it. In fact, I talked to his wife, Rose. There was a time where he opened up to me, saying that she wanted to file a divorce against him. Thing is, that law doesn't exist in the Philippines. An annulment does, but that would be a different story."

My eyes widened as I hear the reason why we had to separate. If Aunt Rose wanted to divorce Uncle Richard, then what about their kids? Why divorce? Was there any physical harm done to her? Verbal? Cheating?

"But … Uncle Richard is Giovanni's father. Besides, we celebrate Christmas with them once a year. How come he's … as you said, 'evil?' He seemed to have raised Giovanni and Albert right. If I'm going back there alone, won't he have plans on having me assassinated? Will it be risky?" My stomach lurched at the what-if thought: Will he plan to have me killed again, like before? I hope not, because I still have lots of dreams to fulfill.

"For the past few years, he didn't act weird. Maybe he gave it up? I can't tell since I can't read his mind. You said that 'he raised Giovanni and Albert right,' well, no," Dad rubbed his forehead after enlightening me. "Giovanni's a drug addict. Albert eloped with his girlfriend and was never seen again. Is that what you call, 'raised right?'"

"Giovanni's … a drug addict? I didn't know that. Also, he didn't reply to my messages recently. Do you have any ideas why?" it saddens me that he ignored my messages ever since this year started.

As a close cousin, I'm expecting him to keep in touch, even at least once a week. Besides, I don't want to believe that he's a drug addict, because I didn't know him as someone who can do something against the law, and moreover, something that can harm him.

"I didn't mention it, haven't I?" dad looked down, sounding guilty. Something feels off. What else should I know? "Giovanni … he's missing, and probably dead," he continued. "I said that he's a drug addict because drugs were found in his house. Missing, because he wasn't seen for a long time already, and probably dead, because lots of blood were found on the floors of his house. It was all scattered from his living room until the gate. It looked like he was dragged out to destroy the pieces of evidence. I can tell that whoever did that is a professional. No fingerprints were traced, pieces of hair, or anything like that."

"W-What? He's missing and probably dead? I …" I gritted my teeth, goosebumps quickly rose on my arms and my chest tightens as if my heart was being squeezed and is not far from exploding – more like shattering into thousands of pieces. With every minute that passes, the harder it is to breathe, and I hit the steering wheel several times in annoyance. My shaking hand tightens my grip on the steering wheel, holding back my tears to avoid having my vision blurry.

Dad decided to stay silent, letting me express it – my anger for not being informed, for the person who killed him, and a slight worry after knowing who my uncle is beside his smiling face and his impressive charisma. First, it was Justin. Now, this. The only hope that I have left is the idea of uncle changing his ways. It's been years since he tried to have us assassinated. We spent several Christmas in peace, and I want to believe that by this time, he got over it. I want to believe that … people change. They can if they'll choose to.

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The smoky scent of a burning dish filled the kitchen and the smoke detector alarmed, stealing me out of my thoughts to go back to reality.

"Eve, Eve! Your dish is burning!" dad reminded. His tone sounded like he's panicking, but his action looked calm, which is confusing. As my mind gets filled with thoughts about different matters, I can no longer articulate my thoughts properly, because everything overwhelms me – from the Justin issue, to the Giovanni.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to calm myself down until I managed to realize that turning off the stove is what I should do at the moment.

"So, the tempura looked like they're grilled," he commented, as he helped me take the tempura out of the pan. He put it in a plate with tissue to drain its oil and served it on the table for us to share.

We sat across each other, and the air becomes heavy because of the dead mood and awkward silence between us. If there's anything that I want to ask for, it's nothing else but sleep.

"I know you're sad, disappointed, and angry, but put those off for now and eat. Go to sleep after. I'll take care of the dishes."

"I don't even have the appetite," I confessed, running out of words. "I'm sorry, dad. I just can't." I gathered the last of the energy that I left to run into my room and I threw myself on my bed. Beads of tears started flowing from my eyes like a river, and as the air felt heavy, the harder it became to breathe.

My flight is a couple of days away, and if there's anything I should work on, it's how I handle my emotions. Being an emotional wreck gets worse every day, but my mind should focus on reality, instead of repeatedly stressing myself over it.

Question is … how.