𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑮𝑰𝑹𝑳 | ᵍʳᵉʸˢ ᵃⁿᵃᵗᵒᵐʸ

⁰²⁹ 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐦

𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟓

Ten years later, and it was Halloween again, but the magic was gone, and for me, it was all tricks, no treats.

Instead, we were sitting in Joe's Bar in Seattle, miles away from the windowsill in New York that almost became the stage for the biggest mistake of my life.

Mom had lured me to the bar under the pretense of a 'girls night' But for a girls night, my dad definitely had one Y-chromosome too many.

There I sat on the corner bench, facing the two people who had created me, but I still didn't really know who I was. My mother and my father, who I still considered a stranger.

A bar? Really?
Is that how you rebuild a family?

He drank his usual scotch, my mother something colorful that looked like a mixture of marital problems and regret.
And me? A Coke. Kid-friendly. Each glass felt like a monument to our missed opportunities.

My father tried to break the ice. "So, Missy, how do you like Seattle so far? It's a lot different than New York, isn't it?"

I put down my Coke and looked at him half-interested. "It has its moments. Like right now, sitting in a bar instead of collecting candy. Super retro, right?"

He laughed nervously, unsure how to deal with this unfamiliar, bitter version of me. My mother looked from him to me, as if searching our words for a spark of the loving, intimate relationship that once existed between a father and his daughter.

But finally, unable to find it, she sighed. "Weren't you going to bring some friends from your new school?"

"My friends are imaginary and went to a better party," I replied dryly, taking another sip from my glass. And if it had been something alcoholic, it would have felt just as dramatic as I had imagined.

The thing is, Halloween has always been a reminder for me. A reminder of how far I had fallen from the little fairy who believed in magic.

Dad didn't give up. "You know, Halloween has always been a special time for us as a family."

I looked at him and couldn't resist. "Did you know that kids who are taken to bars by their parents have a 50% higher chance of becoming alcohol addicted later in their life?"

He and Mom exchanged a quick, uncomfortable look. I raised my hands defensively. "Statistics. Not me."

Sometimes a sarcastic remark says more than a thousand words, and sometimes it hits the spot.

But Dad was trying, really trying. More than I ever remembered, and certainly more than I expected.

"You haven't celebrated Halloween in a long time, have you? We could change that, next year. Do you have any idea what you want to be?" Derek's voice tried to bridge the gap between us, but it fell flat.

"An amnesia patient," I replied coldly, "so I can at least forget I'm here."

Derek looked at me, his eyes a puzzle of concern and self-recrimination, while Addison sucked air through her teeth as if taking an invisible punch.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, deciding he wouldn't get far with questions, and steered the conversation to one of his favorite topics: himself.

"Um, so I had a really interesting case today. A 17-year-old boy with a glioma. We did a craniotomy, and I have to say it was a success."

I traced the edge of my glass with my finger, the ice cubes clinking softly. "That's crazy," I said, the interest in my voice as flat as a 12-lead ECG in asystole.

"Missy, that was a risky operation," Addison intervened, her eyes worried but firm, "this boy will now be able to live a normal life."

"How nice for him. Write down his address so I can send flowers."

Then my mother lost her temper. "Missy, that's enough. We're trying to have a normal conversation."

A sarcastic laugh soaked in bitterness and contempt escaped my lips.

"We're trying to have a normal conversation? All we need is a dog, apple pie and a white picket fence and we'd be the perfect picture book family."

"Enough, Missy," Addison commanded with a sharpness I hadn't heard in a long time.
"Sit down!"

But I was already standing. "You know what? I think I need some air."

Without another word, I stormed out of the bar, slamming the heavy door behind me and leaving my parents groping in the dark, just like all the years before.

It's one thing to break up a family; it's another to expect them to just put themselves back together. And I, I was not ready to take on the role of glue. Not now.