Page 51 of Unwritten Vows

Liza

I’ve never been so miserable.

I thought it was awful to hang by a thread while Derrick was allegedly trying to figure out what kind of dangerous game his father and Edoardo were playing with me.

It’s not nearly as bad as this. Perhaps I can text Derrick behind Daddy’s back, but as painful as this is, I don’t think it would accomplish much besides upsetting everyone.

Three impossible weeks go by. I consider texting him for hours each day, but know there’s no point, especially if he hasn’t texted me.

I never thought I could actually pine for someone.

My heart hurts and my chest feels like it will crack wide open.

I think of how close I came to actually being with someone I cared for in this life.

How close I came to something real, which is so rare in the world I live in.

Mostly, I think of how unfair it all is; how it’s just another disappointment in a life full of them.

“ Solnyshko .” My father sits on the edge of my bed one evening as I blink my eyes open and squint in the harsh light of the sunset beaming through my open window. His words are quiet, his hand gentle on my shoulder. “Are you alright?”

I feel completely disoriented at first, but then blink my eyes into focus and see the numerous tissues scattered around the bed. My face feels like a monster truck drove over it a few times, and I can feel the inflamed red skin under my eyes.

“I’m fine,” I say, without even attempting to be convincing, before trying to breathe through my stuffy nose. I stare out the window into the dwindling orange light out my window so I don’t have to see my father’s face. I don’t know what I’ll see there.

“You have been crying every night. I hear it. I didn’t know it was during the day as well.

Falling asleep in the middle of the day, trudging through the house like a zombie.

It is horrible to watch you this way, my little love.

” He swallows and lowers his voice to a whisper, squeezing my hand with his. “ Toska davit.”

A fresh round of tears stings the back of my eyes and they fill quickly.

My father is not prone to flourishing shows of hyperbole when it comes to his feelings about me, but the Russian words he utters now show the depth of his anguish.

Toska is a word so painful and aching that it has no perfect English translation, but means something close to, ache of the soul .

My father is basically telling me that my sadness is an ache to his soul, and it’s crushing him.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I wish I could just shake this off.”

He has such a gentle, imploring disposition at this moment. “I don’t want you to apologize. I just want you to be whole again.”

I’m crying silently, but I shake my head at the suggestion. “Many philosophers would agree that the notion of being whole—”

“Eliza,” my father interrupts, taking my hand. “You are so smart. Perhaps I have overindulged you. Perhaps, if I had given you some background in the business I run…”

“Are you telling me it’s a bad thing that I’m smart?” I say, giving him a flat, sidelong glance.

“No. I just think our lives might have been easier if I had pushed certain things more than I did.”

I roll my eyes back to the window, glaring into the waning light. “I don’t really see myself ever being some blissfully ignorant little lamb. I would have searched for the knowledge I’ve gotten in other ways. I don’t mind my ignorance in what you do.”

“Yes. Because you are good.”

I give a dull sigh. “No, not really. It’s just because I… I don’t care. And I don’t want to care. I just want to love you and not think about what you do.” I look at him with a quirk of my lip, even through my tears. “See, I’m still your ignorant daughter. Just ignorant in the wrong way.”

He puts his hands on either shoulder and turns my body toward his.

“You are anything but ignorant, Solnyshko . I only wish you were so that I could distract you with other shiny things. I’d buy you a new horse or make a new seating area in the library.

I’d send you to Paris for a month and join you when I could.

But I know these things will not fill you. ”

He lets me go as he finishes speaking, and I nod in agreement.

If he sent me to some beautiful hotel in Paris, I’d just be sitting in my penthouse suite eating a baguette and staring forlornly out the window there.

“Well, I guess I’m just going to have to live with it.

Because I know I can’t go back to him, and it’s clear he doesn’t care. ”

“It could have been my multiple threats to his life, Eliza,” he points out, and I huff out a laugh. I don’t have the energy to continue the conversation, though. If Derrick wanted me back enough, he’d text me. I know because he’s done it before. But I don’t need to tell my father that.

“Truly,” my father tries again, “if he messages you and I catch wind of anything inappropriate happening between the two of you, he will die. I told him not to go near you.”

I flick my eyes back over to my father, and this time I study him with some weight in my gaze.

“It’s my choice to give him another chance.

And the fact that I’m not doesn’t mean it’s because you told me not to, but because I have some self preservation.

But if I decided I wanted to be with him again, it’s my decision.

And you threatening to hurt him because I made that decision is pretty cringy, honestly. ”

My father considers the words for a long moment without anger.

He weighs what he’s going to say, and finally speaks.

“You have to understand—now I can only see him in one way. Now I can only think of him as doing things to hurt you and serve his own interests. He’s selfish.

Everything he does will be tainted by that.

It’s the lens through which I will view him, always.

Nothing he does for himself, including being happy with you, will be anything to me but an act of selfishness. ”

My mouth goes dry. I hate that I agree with my father.

It means that Derrick and I are doomed. I’ve been crying because I know that no matter what happens, there’s really nothing he could do to win me back, since a part of me would always be wondering if he had other plans or some scheme on the side that could hurt me.

“I know,” I whisper as my tears start up again. I turn away from my father to take another look out the window, and this time, I make sure to close myself off as much as possible to signal to him that the conversation is over without saying it out loud.