LOVE, SECRETS, AND BLURRED LINES

SOPHIA

It was a Monday morning, the street bustled with people as they walked along the sidewalk and the cars that zoomed off in traffic honking every now and then. It was the typical rush hour in New York.

I was running across the street, my heart pounding in my chest. Everything seemed blurry at that point and it felt like all the air in my lungs was being squeezed out of me. My head was spinning a lot. My mind was a mess.

Gosh! I hoped he was fine.

As soon as I got there, I stopped, my mouth parting slightly in shock but no words came out. I ran up to my father, a short round man in his late sixties. His head had become bald as a result of aging. He was speaking with a tall man dressed in black suit who was holding a paper in his hand.

I ran up to them.

"I'm sorry sir, but in a week's time, you will have to vacate this property." The man in the suit said.

I got there just in time to hear him spew that nonsense from his mouth.

"But why should I? We've not done anything wrong. I mean, we pay our taxes." My father countered.

The man in suit sighed exasperatedly, "no one is saying that you don't pay your taxes. I mean, this newspaper hasn't sold a paper in like what-ten years, maybe fifteen, whatever. The point is, many of your employees are complaining that you haven't paid them in a very long time and have been using talks of silky passion to keep them tied to your crumbling business and we have to do what we have to do to make sure that they are put at ease."

My father wanted to speak up but I came to stand in front of him, "and you are?"

He turned to me, looking at me condescendingly, "I am Hamper from the United States Department of Labour, specifically the Wage and Hour Division." He replied and reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a card and handing it to me.

I flipped the card around, studying it before looking back at him.

"And what do you have to do with my father?" I asked him.

My father had called me earlier saying that he didn't know what was happening but some folks from the government were at his office, the Evergreen Post. A newspaper publishing company. Well, it was still growing-or crumbling.

"Well, your father had violated some labour laws by not paying his employees when due and this has been going on for quite a very long time now."

"That's because we're facing some financial issues but we already explained to them." I tried to reason.

He scoffed, "explaining to them won't pay them for the hours spent in this shit hole or put food on their tables or pay their freaking and debts." He replied rudely.

I closed my eyes, my jaws twitching in frustration, "well, just give us some time I'm sure we can fix this."

"Yeah, right!" He exclaimed in a very condescending manner, "The only time I'll be giving you both is time to pack up your stuff and leave." He said, using his finger to gesture to both my father and I,

"According to chapter 7 of the labour law, your father has to pay a fine in cash to compensate all the employees he has deprived of wages or this company will be liquidated." He said with a saucy manner.

A gasp escaped my lips and my father stumbled backwards, but I was quick to catch him lest he fell to the ground. He was trembling all over and clutched onto my hand like his life depended on it.

I had to be strong for him.

I coughed, "we will appeal and file for chapter 11 of the labour law, bankruptcy. That way we can earn some money and really pay them what we owe them." I countered, hanging onto a thin thread of hope that he might accept my proposition.

"What makes you think that they will be happy to hear this? They won't work for you anyway so how do you intend to make the money without any workers?" He asked me.

That was a very serious question.

I thought about it for a while. My father could no longer run the company like he used to back when he was a youth and he was so adamant on setting me on a different path in life that he ended up having to do everything on his own. It only grew worse after mom's death.

This was when I had to be strong for my family.

I swallowed hard, looked at Hamper with a flicker of confidence that didn't feel all too real for me but I had no choice but to summon it.

I raised my chin, "I'll do it. I'll do all the work. I'll make the money. I'll get that story that will finally catapult us back to the spotlight."

He smirked, like he was daring me to try and he wanted to see me fail, "is that so?"

I didn't flinch. I maintained my new found confidence.

He sighed, "very well then. Let's see how it turns out for you. But all I can give to you is six months. In six months I'll be back and it's bye bye Evergreen Post."

His stare lingered on my face for a few more seconds before he turned around,

"Let's go, boys." He said to his cohorts who came alongside him.

They left in a black van.

My father stumbled once again, his knees buckling beneath him. He had become frail both physically and mentally. My mother's death had taken a huge toll on us, but not as much as it did him.

He looked at me, his eyes weary with age and sadness. He was trying to be strong, like he always was but this time, the weight seemed too much to bear.

"Sophia," he called my name so lightly, "I can't let them take it away from me. I worked my butts off to get this far. I can't sit and watch it all go down what I've built for years, in a few months."

For the first time, since my mother died, I could see my father struggling to be sane, struggling to keep the tears at bay.

I held his hands in mine and gave it a little squeeze, "don't worry, father. I'm sure we'll find a way around this."

He shook his head and I could feel something sting my heart at just how defeated he felt.

"Do you think we can win against them?" His voice didn't sound like he had any hopes at all.

He was giving up even when he was saying he wasn't going to.

I sighed, forcing my own emerging tears right back into my eyes, and came to stand in front of him, "you say you don't want to lose it but why do I feel like deep down, you don't want to fight for it?"

"You don't understand, my dear child. Who really can win against the government? As much as I don't want to lose it, I can't help but feel helpless." He confessed, each word sounded like a brick had been dumped on my chest.

It broke me to see him like this, all beaten down and helpless.

"Just trust me, father." I didn't trust myself, "I will try my best to save your legacy." I didn't know where to begin but I had to help my family no matter what and he was the only one I had left.

He nodded and looked at me with a weak smile on his face. Suddenly, the smile slowly turned upside down into a frown and his face scrunched up.

Pain crossed his features and his hand flew to his chest.

My heart dropped the instant I saw this.

"Dad?" I whispered, my voice trembling as panic slowly crept into my chest.

I caught him just in time as his knees buckled, his weight sinking into my arms like sandbags. His face was pale, eyes fluttering shut, breath shallow.

Terror clawed up my throat and my arms shook.

"Hey-hey, what's wrong no," she asked him as I patted his cheeks in an effort to keep his eyes open. My voice cracked and my eyes were wide with disbelief, glossy with unshed tears that prickled the corner of my eyes.

I didn't know what was wrong with him.

My lips parted in a silent gasp as I stared down at the man who'd always seemed so strong-now slipping away in my hold.

Oh gosh, what was happening? His eyes weren't opening up again or even fluttering anymore.

I didn't realize I was crying until the warmth of a tear slid down my cheek. My jaw trembled, fingers fumbling to cradle his face, hoping-praying-that this wasn't happening. That it wasn't real.

I needed to take him to the hospital. I needed help. We-needed help.