"Siblings"

8

People always have secret places. Places they can go to in order to reach escape or peace from the outside world. Sometimes, the place isn't literal. It could be the security within plastic earbuds that release soothing music to the mind and calm the senses. It could be a book with fictional characters and plot lines that hold secrets in life's journey. Whatever it is, it's always a safe and willing place people go. That place is only special to the person holding it. It can only be viewed or heard by the person controlling it. If there ever came a day that a person would, in fact, share their sacred place with another, that other should consider themselves lucky.

My place was that field. That field that was filled with, at the time, dying grass and unfiltered waters. It had the old dock that gripped the shoreline so harsh that even after all of these years of storms and snow and weathering, it has still managed to hang off the edge and substitute for a lousy resting point. That old fisherman didn't seem to mind it, though. He could be just as old as that dock, maybe a little bit older. He could have grown up with that dock nearby, back when it was more polished and painted fully. When there were no chips in the wood or mold growing up the sides of the poles that held it to the water. Perhaps that dock was that old man's safe place. His secret and secure place that he could go whenever he just needed a break from the rollercoaster of emotions life gives him.

I always wondered what Father's safe place was, and now I also wondered about Oliver's. Did they even have one? Could adults as mature and educated as my father even need a place like that? They could have very well grown out of the stage of needing a secret and safe place because now they were all caught up in the whirlwind of work adults had to deal with these days. But, then again, the gentle old man seemed to have one, so why not Father?

I hadn't been back to the field in days, almost weeks. There never really seemed to be a time that it felt needed to have to run and hide. Oliver and I were getting along just fine and Father wasn't always ignoring me. Not that he ever did, but it seemed as if with all the amount of work he always had to attend, there was never any time for socializing except for at dinner and in the mornings. With Oliver around now, I could tell he felt as if he had just another responsibility to keep up with and talk to.

Now, I am not hinting towards the fact that Father doesn't love us. That's just the exact opposite of what I am getting at. He loves me (and Oliver) dearly, but sometimes it just felt as if he chose work over family. I didn't know nor should I since I was the child and not the adult. I didn't know half of the things that went on in the closed mind of my father's head so I shouldn't make any assumptions about it either.

My "family" dinner was a success on both Father and Oliver. He loved the way I made his favorite dish and Father found it very pleasing that I and he were starting to get along much better.

We chatted at the table for a while even after everyone's plates were licked clean and white like nothing had ever been on the plate before. I felt a small relief of victory to know that we wouldn't be having any leftovers because everyone had devoured the entire meal like lives depended on it.

"You should cook more often Melanie," I heard Oliver speak to me when we had gone back upstairs to our own separate rooms. I smiled at the thought that I had accomplished something that he had agreed with. One step closer.

That night I had also called Britney to tell her all about it. She seemed thrilled that I and he were bonding over something as silly as food but hey, if that's what got us talking nobody really cared. I knew Father wanted the best for the both of us, and I still didn't know Oliver's whole situation, but he would try his damnedest to make this household stand tall and proud.

I know that Oliver didn't know enough to care about me going out every now and then to the fields. I take back what I said when I mentioned how I haven't been back to the field in a while. I haven't but I wanted to. Not for any reason of escaping, I just...missed it. I missed the thrill of climbing out of my window into the night breeze and the reflection of the moon and stars on the lake's surface.