Being a Richie

I clutch the backpack with my sweaty hand, squeezing it so tight the darkness of the room is forgotten momentarily. I stare at the weak little bulb in the ceiling and wait. I try listening for the footsteps that would bring him closer, but my hammering heart and noisy breaths make it impossible. I instead focus on his instructions, which bounce around my head like a ping pong ball. Go to the address, enter the side door, and wait in the room with a red door. There was one more piece, but I couldn’t…I couldn’t bring myself to let that linger in my mind, no matter how I longed to obey it. My ears still ring with the sincerity of his voice as he instructs me what I should do and how he swore he’d never hurt her. Most of me believed him, believed he’d never lay a finger on someone he loves so much.

Most of me.

Then he came to the last part.

“Zhlina, please, trust me. I am doing for the both of you.”

His voice begged me to believe him, to accept that his crimes, escaping from prison, kidnapping his wife, and leaving his seventeen-year-old daughter to fend for herself, were for us.

Yeah right.

I shake my head and push the bitter memory back. I need to focus. I had to stay focused.

For her.

I close my eyes and see her face, her energetic smile, feeling her calloused hands on my cheek. I hold on to her laugh, not the little chuckle laugh she does now, but the laugh she did before the trial, and the moves, her signature roaring split your side laugh.

Footsteps bring me to my feet, and I barely breathe when the door swings open.  

“Zhlina?”

My breath catches as he walks in, and all my words dry up. I planned the words, so many words to say to him. To him.  

He stands in the doorway, his green eyes lighting up with joy. He is more muscular than I remember, with a more defined jawline. His hair is styled in a

The word slips out before I can think. “Daddy?”

He’s across the room and pulling me close, his strong arms reliving all worry, all fear, all tension.

“Oh mija, mi vida preciosa, how I’ve missed you.”

Tears soak my face. I’ve waited six years for this moment, and the happiness exploding in my chest threatens to burst out of me. I nestle my head against his chest like I’m six years old again, and he’s coming home. Everything is like before, like before-

I tear myself away and stumble backward. No no no no, I can’t, I CANNOT let myself fall into this trap. He…he is not why I am here.

His eyebrows knit together. “Are you ok, ZeeZee? How have you been doing?”

My stomach churns at the sound of the nickname he gave me when I was a baby. I turn my head away from him to compose myself. I whip my face and take a deep breath.

“I’m fine.” I mumble. Obviously, I wasn’t. Obviously, I was terrified, worn out, and overwhelmed. But best not to go there.

There was a brief silence which stretched out way longer than I wanted. I glance back at him. His eyes are on me, studying my face like a doctor does a patient.

“I see you found the backpack full of supplies I left you.” I give a tiny nod, which he takes as permission to continue. “I tried to make sure you had an equal balance of things you would need and things that are your favorite.” He paused. “The black licorice was no small thing trying to acquire but I finally found it in that small candy shop by our old house-“

It was too much. “Where’s Momma?!”

My voice isn’t as strong as I would like, but my words carry out the desired effect.

The shift is subtle, a tightening of his jaw, the stiffening of his shoulders, the way his face drops ever so slightly.  

“So, it is business I see?”

I laugh, a twisted gasping sound that comes from deep within. “You thought I would forget about her?”

His face falters, and the sadness in his eyes cuts me. “No ZeeZee, who could ever forget your momma?”

I don’t know what I expected him to be like, but it wasn’t this.

“Can you just let her go?”

He walks over to me and places a hand on my shoulder. “I can’t at least, not now amor-“

My resolve weakens. “Why?!” I burst out, shaking his hand from my shoulder. “Why even take her in the first place?! She did nothing to you!”

His face hardens. “Zhlina Alegria Richie! Don’t you ever raise your voice at me again!”

I shut up, annoyed that even after this long my father’s baritone can still make me hold my tongue.

He takes a deep breath, his expression relaxing. “As I was saying, I only have your mother here for our best interest. You know I love your mother, I just needed to separate you so you can preform the task we need you.” He smiles as if to assure me, “Don’t worry, it’s a small one, and I’m sure with all the training I gave you in the past-“

Everything comes crashing down as I now realize his plan. He kidnapped Momma and left me scared and alone just so I could do some task for him, to do something for him.

He before me wasn’t my father, no. It was who the judge and the whole words always saw, the great Victor Mol Richie, criminal extraordinaire and renowned thief.

My heart broke, and with me, all my resolve to hear him out.

I charge out past him, using surprise as my momentum. He reached out to grab me, but I was at the door, slipping out and slamming it in his shocked face.

 “Zhlina!”

Two goons are down the hall, but I am closer to the outside door, which I whip open and plunge into the still night.  

“Zhlina wait!!”  

The force of his words slices through me, almost stopping me in my tracks. It takes all my will to push on, to disobey. I run past buildings, cars, and trees. I run down streets. My lungs burn, my chest heaves, my arms ache with effort, my eyes tear from dirt flying in my face, and my legs feel heavier and heavier. I am tired, so very tired, yet I keep running, fast and quick, through the moonless night. The rain trickles down my jacket, soaking my skin and chilling my body. My heart pounds in my chest as I splash from puddle to puddle, away, away, away. But I can never run fast enough to get away from the voice. It follows me, dark and ominous, phantom-like in every way, sliding down my jacket like an icy finger. It stays behind in the shadows, close enough for me to hear its screeching yet far enough to be just out of my reach. It taunts me with every footfall to run faster, harder. Yet we both know I’ll never run fast enough to escape. It’ll always be there, calling my name, sucking every bit of hope I have till it’s all darkness. That voice. Father’s voice.

“ZHLINA!!!”