Page 5 of Razor
It would be so easy. One touch of my keypad and I could hear his familiar gruff tone. The one I dream about at night that echoes in my mind. To picture his strength, his love, his sacrifice, is too hard to bear, and nostalgia hits me like a wrecking ball.
I am so alone.
I have nobody.
My family is scattered, both my biological one and my chosen one. I am treading a lonely path right now, and the overwhelming urge to call my father blinds my rationality. Before I can talk myself out of it, I pocket my phone and head to use the one in the salon instead, hoping it’s safer than using mine.
“Joe Palmer.”
His familiar voice seeps through me like a welcome balm, healing, familiar, and achingly beautiful. A sound I never appreciated until I lost it, and I picture his brow furrowed in concentration as he waits for me to speak.
“Who is this?”
His tone sharpens, distrust, fear and anger replacing politeness.
My fingers shake as I grip the phone and whisper, “Dad.”
“Josie!”
He sounds shocked, angry even, and I whisper, “Happy birthday, Dad.”
“Baby–”His voice breaks, and I wipe away my falling tears.
He whispers,“Are you okay, honey?”
“Yes.” I sniff, words not coming easily right now.
“I’m okay.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m safe. No need to worry.”
“I’m your father, of course I worry.”
His breathing is heavy, fear interwoven in every breath.
“You shouldn’t be calling me.”
“I know, but…”
“It’s okay, I understand, baby, but please don’t take any risks on my behalf.”
My voice quivers. “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, angel.”
He cuts the call, brutal, final and devastating.
The screen mocks me with its emptiness, and I gulp back the rising sob and glance up as Mrs. Amos pushes her walker through the door.
“Somebody fetch me a seat and a stiff drink. It’s as if I’ve run a mile.”
Sasha rolls her eyes from the corner of the room where she is cutting another customer’s hair into a sharp bob, and she nods toward the basin.
I force a bright smile onto my face, noting Mrs. Amos’s car parked a few feet away.
“Welcome, Mrs. Amos. Take a seat at the basin. Let me wash away your stress.”
