All of my life, I've struggled with anxiety. In a situation like this, where things are spiraling out of control, I'd usually be curled into a ball, hugging my knees—waiting for the sensation to pass. It's a sensation of wanting to shuck off your clothes, scrape your skin, and run naked towards a glacial lake, dive in, and become numb from the world's troubles.

Yet, as we follow my father's car down Highway 101, my mind and body have accepted what he is. Now, it's just a matter of forcing him to tell the truth, starting with why he's heading south when he lives north. I guess we'll see what other lies he's keeping.

Meanwhile, the guys are quarreling like an old married couple as Julian criticizes Moses for driving like a Neanderthal, and Moses is telling Julian to mind his business. On any other occasion, I'd be tickled that my crisis has bonded them. Except, I can't seem to stop clenching and unclenching my fists. 

"He's going to see us!" Julian gestures at the windshield.

"We're in a rental car with tinted windows. We're good." Moses grips the steering wheel a little tighter.

"As much as I can't stand his ass, Angelo is a smart man. He'll notice someone is following him! Slow down."

"We're two cars behind him. We're good."

"I can't with you." Julian flops his head into his hands and muffles a mini scream. "Val, please handle your man."

"Why? I'm enjoying this," I tease.

"You would!" Julian glares at my reflection in the side mirror. "Masochist." 

"I think you guys like each other more than you're letting on."

"You take that back!" Julian twists around, his finger in my face.

"No. You guys are adorable."

"I'm not listening to this!" Julian plugs his ears and begins singing to himself while rocking. 

I catch Moses eyeing me through the rearview mirror with a sly grin. Then he winks, and it eases some of my anxiety, causing a smile to stretch from ear to ear. He reaches back, his other hand steady on the wheel, and squeezes my knee. It's such a small gesture, but it fills my belly with flutters anyway, so I lean forward and plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Ugh, get a room!" Julian says.

"I dunno. I kinda like having people watch." Moses shrugs.

"Great, I'm stuck in a car with a masochist and a voyeur..." Julian grumbles, but I'm laughing so hard I almost forget what we're doing until my dad switches lanes for an offramp. 

The exit sign says SFO International Airport.

"Holy shit. Please don't tell me your dad is fleeing the country..." Julian says.

"He wouldn't leave behind his wife and small children. Would he?" I scoot forward, causing the seatbelt to stretch and chafe my neck.

"At this point, nothing he does would surprise me," Moses replies.

We follow as he exits the highway while my heart thrashes so wildly I'm afraid it might explode from my chest like an alien creature and take off running. 

"Don't lose him," I say to Moses, and I'm practically in the front seat, ready to take over the steering wheel.

"I won't," he says calmly as we coast onto the offramp. 

The exit spills into several lanes directing cars to either go left onto an overpass for the airport or right for the train station. My father turns right, and I brace myself to confront him on a train platform in front of dozens of witnesses. 

But then he passes the train station and keeps driving until the road meets a large intersection where hotels and restaurants are.

"Ok, so he's not ditching the country," Julian says.

"No, but where is he going?" I grip the seat cushions. 

We continue following him through traffic as he weaves around cars before taking a right onto a backstreet. Suddenly, the bustle of city traffic is exchanged with calm residential neighborhoods as he makes his way up a hill. But then, we come around a bend to a soccer field at a school. 

My father stations his car in the first open spot and then skips across the faded asphalt. Clusters of parents and onlookers watch as young children rush back and forth, kicking a ball around. Their cheering cracks through the air as I roll down the window to get a better view. 

Despite the crowd, I immediately spot Linda De Marco's long blonde hair under a baseball cap and the impossibly tight leggings hugging her yoga sculpted thighs. My father wraps his arms around her, and she's visibly surprised as she flinches with a hand going to her chest, then pulls him in for a kiss. A little girl at their side tugs on his shirt, so he lifts her into his arms and begins peppering her face with kisses. Her sweet, innocent laughter floats on the breeze towards us, causing my stomach to clench. 

It's the same little girl I saw sitting at the dining table in Eureka. She has dark hair just like him, and I bet she has his nose too. 

I never thought I'd be jealous of a little girl, but watching my father's loving interaction with her has me gripping the door handle. However, the chokehold from the seatbelt sobers me, so I unbuckle it and dare a glance across the field again. Part of me still wants to march over there and announce to his little, secret family that he's my father. Mine!

But the other part of me starts crying. 

Tears flood my eyelids, my throat thickens, and I release a roar of frustration while hugging myself. Weeks ago, I had an adoring father I could trust. I had childhood memories that filled my heart with love for my mother. Now, I have nothing. I have been lied to and replaced. 

"Oh, Val." Moses shuts off the engine and starts climbing into the backseat.

"Jesus, you could at least park the car!" Julian exclaims. "Ah, damnit. You just kicked my face!"

However, Moses doesn't pay him any mind as he flops into the backseat and pulls me onto his lap. So, I make myself tiny as I curl my body into him, head buried in his chest. It would be great to disappear instead of feel as insignificant as I do now. 

The car falls silent, and I'm not sure how much time passes as Moses holds me tight, but when another vehicle honks and swerves around us, we take the hint. So, Julian slides into the driver's seat and turns the ignition.

"What do you want to do next, Val?"

"It looks like the game is over." I wipe my eyes and point at the people exiting the soccer field. "My dad and his secret family are leaving. Let's see where they go."

"You got it." Julian shifts the car into gear.

The sun is beginning to set, and it has painted the sky ablaze as if Bob Ross himself took a brush and swept the canvas in sherbert hues. It's been a long day, and I don't know why Moses and Julian have stuck by me through all of this, but I'm grateful. 

After a few minutes of following my father, we find ourselves at a brewery known for its Chicago-style pizza. The restaurant sits in a strip mall which makes it easier to go unnoticed as we park amongst the rows of cars. 

However, my father isn't alone. 

As it turns out, he and a bunch of the other families decided to celebrate winning the soccer game. So we watch their tribe of excited children scurry into the brewery while my dad holds hands with Linda just a few feet behind them. They're smiling and laughing with the other parents like some perfect couple. As if he didn't drag me out of the Conservatory of Flowers earlier.

I have no idea what to do next, but I need to do something.

 My mind ticks as I pick at my nails to the point of them becoming nubs. It's enough time for the sun to kiss the surrounding mountain tops and send flames of scarlet across the horizon before disappearing. 

"Want me to go in there and scope things out?" Moses offers after a long silence.

"No. My father knows what you look like."

"But he only saw me once, and it was less than five minutes."

"Trust me, Moses. There is no way he's forgotten your face," I reply.

"That man has the memory of an elephant," Julian snorts without looking up from texting on his phone. "Which is important since he needs to keep track of all his lies."

"It's getting late." I glance at my watch. "And we can't sit here forever."

"So, whatcha thinking?" Julian turns around in the driver's seat to look at me.

"I think I need to go in there and confront him in front of everyone." 

"Then we should go inside with you," Moses unbuckles his seat belt.

"But only up to the door," I say quickly. "I want to go inside alone."

"Val, come on." 

"I'll be ok. I think it'll be better to do it alone. Less of a scene."

"Less of a scene!?" Julian scoffs. "Mujer, you need to go in there and let that entire soccer team know that your daddy has a grown-ass daughter no one knows about."

"And he's a liar and a kidnapper," Moses adds.

"Exactly! Show no mercy."

"Julian, those kids, and Linda are innocent in this," I object. "I don't want to hurt them. It will be messy no matter how I slice it, but I have to try at least not to be a tornado when I go in there."

"Are you kidding me!?" Julian darts his gaze to Moses. "She should go in there guns blazing, am I right?"

"Julian, I've got this," I reply.

"Yeah, you do! Now, give Angelo hell. Put him in a chokehold and punch Linda in the tit." 

"Julian..." I side-eye him and reach for the door handle.

"Come on. You know you want to."

"Maybe." I flash him a smile.

We exit and weave our way across the faded parking lot where neon signs from the strip mall reflect off car hoods. The brewery stands the tallest and the most luminous amongst the other buildings as music pumps out every time a customer enters or exits. 

I could use a drink for what I'm about to do, but there isn't time for that, so I place my palm on the door handle and glance back at the boys.

"Wish me luck?"

"You've got this!" Julian squeezes my shoulder.

"Good luck." Moses dips his head and plants a kiss on me.

The inside of the brewery is about as boisterous as the sudden high blood pressure pulsing in my ears. Even my lobes are warm, and I bet they're red too, so I give my hair a quick fluff to hide them. It's a Saturday evening, so the place is packed as people stare at the giant TV screens throughout the restaurant, hypnotized by the Warriors basketball game. I ask a hostess where I can find the party of soccer players, and she points towards the back. 

Smoothing down my shirt, I head over, but I can no longer feel my feet touching the carpet. Instead, I'm floating above the tables like a balloon snipped from its tether, watching myself as I approach the separate dining area reserved for big groups. 

It only takes seconds for our eyes to meet, but there Angelo is, his arm around beautiful Linda and about to take a sip from the beer in his hand. My father goes from laughing with the other parents to a ghostly white pallor cascading down his face, which snatches his smile. 

Linda notices and follows his gaze to me. She adjusts her posture, then clears her throat. "Can we help you?"

She's pretending not to recognize me, but the tight line across her lips says otherwise.

"I need a moment with my father."

"Uh..." he glances around at the other parents. "I'll be right back."

"Alex!" Linda tugs on his sleeve. "This is not the time."

"I think you mean, Angelo," I say, and she cuts a glare my way but begins whispering in my father's ear. 

The group members sense the tension as they shift in their seats with their eyes flashing back and forth between us. This confrontation feels dirty, yet I maintain my fake confident composure while twisting the hem of my shirt and continue eyeing the dark-haired Italian scooting out of his chair. I hardly recognize my father in this light. I used to think he was so handsome with his strong posture and warm smile, but now I see someone pathetic. I see a liar.

When he rounds the table to where I'm standing, he takes my elbow to steer me away, but I don't budge.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" 

"Not now, Valerie..."

"I think this is a perfect time. Shouldn't my siblings know who I am?"

"Valerie!" he growls with his mouth pressed to my ear. "Outside. Now!"

"No." I pull away and glare at him. "You don't get to run. I want answers, Angelo. Or should I call you Alexander? Which one is it?"

"Excuse us," he says to the table, then yanks me in the opposite direction.

This time I don't fight because the damage is already done. We now have the attention of everyone at the table. Including the kids, and it twists my gut as their innocent, little faces wrinkle in concern.

"Daddy, where are you going?" the little girl says, but my father doesn't respond because he's too busy scurrying me away. 

He keeps a firm grip around my upper arm as he hauls me through the restaurant, but I drag my feet to make it harder for him. The tables whip passed us, and I'm still floating above everyone, watching this play out. Because the man urgently ushering me through the restaurant is unrecognizable, but so am I. 

Weeks ago, I was a shy yet confident young woman who called herself Valerie Rossi, the daughter of Angelo and Elaine Rossi. I was a proud Italian girl— A daddy's girl. But now I'm none of those things as he tows me like yesterday's trash. 

We spill from the entrance into the crisp evening air when he finally releases me with a bit of a shove, causing me to stumble.

"Why couldn't you leave this alone!?" He runs his hands through his hair and down his face. "Why did you have to dig?"

"Why did you have to lie!?" I fire back.

"You don't understand!"

"Then explain! I just want the truth."

"No, you don't!"

"Yes, I do!"

"Damn it, Valerie." His eyes water as he brings his hands up, his fists clenching and unclenching with the release of a yell. "You think you want the truth, but you don't!"

"Who am I? Please, just tell me. I need to know," I beg. "Am I Valentina Moreno?"

His gaze drifts past me, and that's when I feel Julian's shoulder brush mine as he and Moses take their stance on either side of me.

"What is this?" my father asks.

"We're here to make sure you stop feeding Valerie bullshit." Julian folds his arms.

"This is none of your business!" my father barks. "This is between my daughter and me."

"But I'm not your daughter, am I?" I ask, and his mouth opens, then closes and forms a straight line as he rubs the back of his neck. "Dad, please. At this point, I don't even care. I just want the truth. Please, tell me the truth."

"Valerie, I—" he begins to say, but the door swings open behind him, and out stomps Linda.

"I don't know what the fuck is going on here, but you are barking up the wrong tree, young lady!"

"Linda, stop." He takes her elbow, but she jerks herself free with her finger jabbing in my face.

"How dare you show up here making a scene in front of my family and scaring my kids! If you think for one second, I'm going to let some little slut—"

"Linda!" This time he takes her by the shoulders and places himself between us. "She's my daughter."

"That's a damn lie, Alex!" She shouts in his face like a rabid chihuahua on a leash. "I won't let you embarrass me with these little whores anymore."

"Linda! I'm not lying. She's my daughter from a previous marriage."

"Actually, Linda, I'm not his biological daughter," I say calmly. "He kidnapped me when I was a little girl and then raised me to believe I was his. Isn't that right, Angelo?"

"What?" A deep crease forms across Linda's forehead. "What the hell is she talking about?"

"My name is Valentina Moreno. He kidnapped me from Yosemite National Park twenty years ago and raised me as his daughter, but I only found out a few weeks ago. If you Google it, you'll see."

"I don't know what kind of sick game this is, but I've had enough!" Linda gives a soft shove to my father's chest, her eyes watering. "Alex, your kids are inside celebrating their soccer tournament, so we should go back there. As for you..." She scorches me with a glance. "Stay away from my family."

"Go home, Valerie," my dad says, his gaze not meeting mine. "Please, go home."

"The funny thing is dad, Angelo, Alexander, whatever your name is—you used to be my home. But now I don't know who you are or where I belong."

My father closes his eyes. "I'm sorry, baby girl."

Then he slips inside the restaurant with Linda, and the music momentarily spills out before the door shuts behind him. I'm steeped in the silence his words created, yet they echo in my chest like a crack of thunder across the mountains.

This isn't over. 

There's no turning back now, so I must move ahead, regardless of who else it affects. 

This is Angelo's doing. 

Not mine.