You listen to the other side of the line continue to ring, and then go to voicemail for the third time. You hang up and slam it down on the couch.

“Answer the phone, damnit!” You shout in frustration.

You feel a hand grip down on your shoulder, making you jump. You look to Mark, who hasn’t left your side since earlier, sitting next to you. You heave a sigh, leaning over and holding your face in your hands.

“It’s okay,” he begins, rubbing your shoulder, “you’ll get a hold of her eventually.”

You inwardly grimace, “She’s a very busy woman, taking house calls and such… I just wish I had my dad’s number, but he’s just as busy.”

He shifts, seeming to feel your discontent, “What do they do?”

You pause before lifting you face from your hands, staring off at a wall.

“My mother is a psychiatrist; she became one soon after I was born because of my issues… And… my father is some sort of scientist.”

You look down to your hands, lightly forming fists.

“I never really found out what he does, it could be some dog mind reading stuff for all I know.”

He removes his hand from your shoulder. You unclench your fist and go to look at him, but your phone rings. You curse inwardly for letting your past make you so emotional, so bitter towards certain things.

You grab your phone and answer it, expecting a familiar voice on the other end.

“Hey, ‘bout time you called back,” you state, anger still in your voice.

“Your mother called, said something about Elena and your past. Are you busy?” A male voice hurriedly says.

You pull the phone away from your ear and look down at the screen.

Restricted number.

You hear a ‘hello?’ come from the receiving end, you bring the phone back up to your ear.

“Are you still there?” Your father asks impatiently, the voice still vaguely unfamiliar to you.

“Yes, I’m here.”