I stopped my pacing on the sidewalk. I’d been here before; I could hear the despair in her voice. Something bad had happened.

“Vicky…where are you, honey?” Marie pled and I knew she was asking because there was bad news. I could feel every bone in my body tensing.

“I’m in the middle of a sidewalk…” I muttered as my heart beat a mile a minute. “Please, Marie…” I pleaded with her to tell me. Whatever it was I needed to know. Was it Joe? Was it my father? What could it be? I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs.

“Can you go inside somewhere and take a seat?” she asked with a calm voice. I knew she was worried about me after everything that had happened with my mother, but I needed to know. I needed to know now.

“Dammit, Marie, just tell me,” I snapped and then regretted it. I knew she didn’t mean any harm, but my nerves were so on edge I thought I might lose it completely.

“Sorry, honey… it’s your papa. Hal went to check on him just now, and he didn’t have a pulse, honey. He died.” As her words rang in my ears, I knew they couldn’t be true; he could not have died. He was an alcoholic but he was okay. He would eat a little and spend his days drinking in the kitchen or on the balcony but he was okay. “Are you there, Vicky?” Marie asked frantically.

With the phone still to my ear, I fell to my knees and held onto my stomach. Pain radiated through my body. I couldn’t handle anything she’d said. It was too much to process. This was my fault. I had left him all alone. He needed me and I was angry with him. He had cared for me and loved me since I was a baby, and I didn’t do the same for him. I had tried to convince him to go to rehab, and he refused to admit he even had a problem. He ignored me and it infuriated me. He didn’t step up to help when Mama got sick. I loved him but he let me down, he let Mama down, and he chose to live his days searching for the end in a bottle. It was painful for me to watch. Marie and Hal tried to come over and help me get him to rehab, but nothing we said mattered. I knew deep down he didn’t want to live, and this was his way of ending it. I just couldn’t believe this was real. I heard myself crying loudly on the street, and I wondered how long I had been on the ground this way.

I was pulled out of my trance when I heard Bryce’s soft voice from behind me, he was trying to lift me, but I was fighting him.

“Vicky, its okay, what happened? It’s Bryce,” he whispered softly in my ear. His voice was soothing, but the news was too painful. This was my fault. I should have tried harder to get him into rehab. I shouldn’t have left him alone. Bryce lifted me up and cradled me in his strong arms. I placed my head into his shoulder and sobbed. He carried me back into the building and I thought into the elevator. I felt like I was on a cloud. This was not reality.

“Hush,” he whispered, still holding on to me. As we reached the top floor I could feel that I was getting heavy for him by the heavy steps he was taking. We made it into his office, and he walked over to the couch and placed me down gently. Then he got on one knee and caressed my head and looked at me through worried grey eyes. He looked fatherly, and he is my father, but the only father I had known growing up was now dead. “Vicky, what happened?”

“My papa back home died,” I responded through heavy sobs. I knew my eyes must look bloodshot and I felt slightly embarrassed now that I had come to. I must have made quite a scene. I think I saw cameras flashing, and I wondered if the media had taken pictures. I knew the reporters tried to follow Bryce around a lot, and he spent too much effort having to evade them.

“Oh, Vicky, I am so sorry to hear that,” Bryce said taking a seat beside me on the couch. “Tell me what I can do? Anything you need…” Bryce trailed off looking at me with sorrow filled eyes.

“I need to go home, there will be a funeral, I will need to make the arrangements,” I said with a monotone voice. I was scaring myself. Saying those words again was like reliving my mama’s death and that was the most traumatic experience of my life. Having to do it again scared me. I thought I would break and if I break again I fear there wouldn’t be any turning back.

“Okay, I will send my driver to get your clothes and I will have my jet ready for you, I wish I could go with you, Vicky, but I can’t leave right now,” he explained regretfully.

“I don’t need a jet Bryce, I will just buy myself a plane ticket and go home. And your driver doesn’t have to get me anything I will go back to my apartment to pack.”

“Vicky, you are taking the jet, trust me you will get there faster and you won’t need to deal with airport lines, but if you would like to pack I understand, my driver will be at your disposal and take you to the plane when you are ready. We just need to provide a takeoff time,” he explained. The truth was that I was so shaky I didn’t want to be alone, but I knew Bryce was a busy man. I’ve learned what I could and couldn’t expect from him.

“I appreciate your generosity,” I said, standing from the couch and swiping my tears away.

“Vicky, I am sorry,” he breathed out. He looked torn. “I have meetings this afternoon, I really do wish I could come with you and pay respects to the man that raised you. He did the job I was supposed to do, even though my gut tells me that you were probably better off,” he said, bowing his head to the ground.

“Thank you for helping Bryce, don’t feel bad. I know you have a lot of responsibility. I can see how torn you are between choosing family and work. Tyson is like your family, and they depend on you too,” I replied, giving his shoulder a squeeze while trying to reassure him.

“You’re a kind girl, Vicky. Your parents raised you well. I know you feel alone now, but I do want you to come back to New York. We still need to spend time together, and I hope to make more time in the future,” he said, giving me a sad grin. I understood in that moment what Luc meant about him being a good person. He was a good person, but his responsibilities to Tyson came first.

As I thought of Luc, I knew he was busy but I needed him like I needed my own breath. I sent him a text.

Hi, how are things with the Japanese?

I didn’t want to deliver my bad news through a text message. I would wait for him to call, and then I would tell him that I needed him. The idea of wanting to lean on someone and depend on them made me feel vulnerable, but I needed him so badly because I was in danger of falling into a dark place. I knew he could keep me grounded. I made my way back out to the elevators and back to the second tower where I collected my things. I notified Sheila that I would be leaving and to notify the shuttle that I wasn’t going to the plant today. She looked sad and worried and my lack of an explanation probably didn’t help.

Bryce’s driver took me back to the apartment. I went to my own apartment first, figuring I would pack my things then head up to Luc’s to get the rest of my belongings. As I opened the apartment door Nessa was in the kitchen wearing a pink tank top and short cut-offs. She was singing some tune on a high note while flipping pancakes. I almost wanted to laugh at the scene but I was overcome with sorrow.

Her spatula fell out of her hand and her hand flew to her chest holding her heart. “Shit, Vicky, what are you doing home in the middle of the day? You just scared the living shit out of me,” she said with a scolding tone. When she noticed I was at a loss for words her own face paled. “What’s wrong? What happened? Talk to me right now,” she demanded, with her sassy voice and her hands on her waist.

Without answering I walked over to the white leather couch at the center of the main room and fell back, my mental agony was draining everything out of me. “My papa died,” I finally managed to get out. Nessa’s hand flew to her mouth and she yelped. “Shit, that’s bad.” Her responses to things were sometimes unexpected because she tended to say exactly what she was thinking.