Second Chances. (WATTY AWARDS 2013)

Chapter 89: Gallery.

Hey guys, so there are 10 chapters left. Yes only 10. God 8 moths of writing this and it's almost done. Anyways enjoy Chapter 89 and listen to the song in the side. 

Chapter 89: Gallery.

I decided not to go after Peasnie, Bailey was right. The tighter my grip got on Peasnie, the more she’d fight back against me. And that’ll ultimately make me lose her. So the entire weekend I stayed at home and tried not to go insane which was easy since Alfie had dance Saturday and Sunday, Kier had art school on Saturday and Bailey needed me to run around doing the shopping list and then I was at the studio for a couple hours. But it was Monday morning, just after six in the morning and I was sitting up waiting for Peasnie to get home. I wanted to talk to her about everything, I didn’t want to tell her she couldn’t go live her own life and I wasn’t going too. Instead of arguing and bickering with her I was to get to the root of our problem, me. I’m the root of our problem. I can’t let go because this isn’t the life I wanted her to have. This isn’t the way it was supposed to turn out, she was supposed to meet Arin and Connor and be friends with just Lucas and Ashley; there was never supposed to be Chris, PJ, Dan, Phil or London. Peasnie was supposed to meet Arin after dumping Connor, they were supposed to date and get married and have a son and Peasnie was supposed to be a drummer and live happily ever after in Huntington. If she only knew what’s happened to Connor, Connor did leave Grand Island but when he was in Vegas he was jumped and stabbed, he’s paralyzed now. He didn’t get jumped before because he was with Peasnie. And Arin, Peasnie and Arin have met but there was nothing, I could see it in his eyes but she was far too busy dreaming about Phil. Is it possible to love two different people? Everything is so fucked up. How the hell did this happen?

I sighed, setting the guitar down, leaning it against the grand piano in the basement. Before the basement was kinda like a man’s room, American flag, records hanging on the walls, instruments everywhere along with music but now it’s more of a gallery because I’m not the only one who uses this room. Photos of the family and children’s drawings were hung up on the walls, there were a couple toys collected in the corner along with a small table and a couple chairs that had paper and pencil crayons in a small tub  and my music was in a filing cabinet that was locked. It was definitely more like an art gallery and to be truthful; I’d rather it no other way. It’s just nicer now, before it was a house but now it’s a home with a happy family in it.  

My head propped up when I heard the back door close; I got up from behind the piano and strode up the stairs, skipping two at a time. I peeked out into the kitchen to see Peasnie setting her keys and rucksack on the kitchen table. She was nicely dressed, far too nicely dressed for a music festival. She didn’t go to a music festival, she didn’t look tired nor was she groaning in pain from walking, standing and moshing.

“G’morning doll.” I said catching her attention briefly. She flashed me a surprisingly bright, clean smile. If she was at a music festival I’d be able to smell the alcohol on her breath and her teeth wouldn’t be that clean.

“Morning dad, sorry I’m late. I had to stop for gas and then there was traffic.” She said calmly. Not even yawning, not once. She didn’t have bags under her eyes, she wasn’t moving like a robot and her clothes were clean. She lied to everyone, yes she might’ve been with her friends but she wasn’t at a music festival. Trust me, I’ve been to plenty. I crossed my arms over my chest and puffed it out slightly.  

“Okay, where the hell have you been?” I asked, stepping into the kitchen where Peasnie was. She looked over at me carefully and walked over to the counter, pouring the freshly made coffee into her favourite mug and added flavoured creamer.

“I was in L.A making a music video.” Peasnie said, pulling a disk case out of the pocket in her rucksack. I felt my eye brow sky rocket as I stood there gobsmacked. Okay I knew she didn’t go to a music festival but she was still in California?! And I sent her that voicemail the other day. Nicely done me. I swallowed my pride and nodded.