Saving Finnly Cage

Chapter 1 - Cute Name

NOTE: not edited
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3 years later I was standing in front of my old house, 2 suitcases in hand.

I was back.

I should've been happy that I finally was able to go back to my home in California, but I just wasn't that pumped. I had finally settled into my new life up in New York, and not to mention the severe weather adjustment. I had even made some friends, which was a lot for me because ever since I had moved you could say I've had major trust issues. All in all, I had finally accepted the fact that It was better in New York and my life was starting to take a smoother course.

Just kidding.

My mom got some promotion that involved her flying over to Paris for some yearlong project. She had never fully recovered from the divorce with dad and my brother's death. I was proud that she had received a promotion and I had been the one to urge her to go to Paris. She needed it. I was more than happy until she told me I would have to live with my dad for the year. I didn't understand why living with one of my friends or staying home alone was a problem- but apparently it was. She had insisted that I go live with my dad. She even told me it was about time I visited him. I hadn't seen him since the divorce. Don't think he wasn't interested...he was. He called every Sunday to say hello and ask me the boring af questions like 'how is school going?', but after the first couple months I couldn't deal with it anymore. It's like the realization finally hit that I wasn't going home. I had stopped talking to him, but every Sunday since he continued to call. And every Sunday my mom would pick up the phone and say the same thing 'Try again next weekend'. It's like she knew I still didn't want to talk to him- and was hoping one day I would want to. Although the divorce had a devastating effect on my mom, she still thought it was important for me to stay in touch with him. She said it wasn't fair for him to lose both children.

I never did call though, until I called him to tell him I was coming to live with him. My mom had previously conversed with him about it, but she thought it was best for me to tell him myself before I just showed up and demanded to have a place to sleep and food to eat. So I had called him, and needless to say, it couldn't have been more awkward. Almost a full 3 years later, and you're talking to your dad you had previously shut out because you were having major withdrawal issues and now you felt so bad about it you didn't even know what to say? Yeah that...

Still here I was, standing in front of the house i had lived in my whole life up until 3 years ago. The house that so many memories had been made. The house that reminded me of the perfect life I did have. The house that made me wonder 'what the heck happened?'.

I guess it would have been easier to just forget about this place, and I was doing a good job of it until the trip to Paris happened. And yeah, I wasn't that excited to be here, not how I thought I would feel after being away for so long, but I was determined to make the best of it. God knows I didn't want to have another 'feel sorry for myself' year like I did my first year in New York.

I scan the exterior of the house before my eyes rest on the door. I could still turn back. I could be a hobo and live on the rails or something. My body responded for me, and I walked forward towards the door, climbing the steps and setting down my luggage before ringing the doorbell.

What would I say?

'Hi Dad! Long time no see!'

'Hey Dad! House looks nice!'

'What's up Dad?'

The door swung open and a lady with curly brown hair answered the door.

"You must be Finnly! It's so nice to finally meet you! Your father has told me so much about you!" She said, gathering me into a hug.