Robbers // H.S.

nineteen

Affection - Between Friends

August 24, 2021

My father gave me my first drawing pad when I was ten.

He always loved teaching me new things.

Loved sitting down and learning things together.

So on my tenth birthday, I ripped off the leftover Christmas wrapping paper from the year prior and saw a new hobby we could try together. I was already dressed in my costume, since I shared my day with the worst holiday ever, Halloween.

I insisted on staying in that night and having dad teach me how to draw, but mother dragged me along while Kitty trick-or-treated. She always had to be seen as the perfect mother and family to the neighborhood.

A little less than two years later and he was gone. Kitty and I had a week left of summer vacation. Each weekend since we'd gotten out of school, dad would lay out a huge tarp in the lawn and sprayed it down with soap and water. We would all take turns on the makeshift slip-and-slide while mother watched through the front bay windows.

I was always daddy's little girl. Dad loved Kitty and I equally, but I found comfort in him while Kitty was the more independent child. She would run deep into the trees in the backyard, alone and creating stories in her head. I always stuck by dad's side. While he read a new book every week, I was rereading the same mythical book that mother 'gifted' me.

On August 4th, I watched as mother folded in on herself. I hugged Kitty close to my chest and squeezed my eyes tight enough to see stars. While mother laid in bed, his closet was left open and emptied.

Not even a note was left. His existence just ceased after that.

I don't think my brain was strong enough to comprehend what had happened in the moment. I couldn't process that he wasn't on one of his business trips, and that he wouldn't be coming back. Ever.

He was a big time lawyer, but never flaunted his wealth. Had business overseas, so it wasn't weird in my eyes that he was gone. He'd always shared his stories with us.

Painting pictures in our heads of what Switzerland, Mexico, and Germany were like.

"London was his favorite, though." I say. "That's why I'm here now. Wanted to know why he loved it so much."

"You miss him lot?" He asks.

I nod, my brush still on the canvas. When I talk I can feel my breath bounce off of the painting and hit me back in the face. "More than anything. But it's kind of hard to forgive him after watching how him leaving affected my family."

"What happened?" he asked. 

I run my free hand down my pants. "I don't really like to talk about it." 

"Have you told anyone?" 

I nod. "Vivi knows everything. No one else knows the details." 

"Has he contacted you at all?"

I shake my head now. "I lost hope in him. It's been eight years."

Jesse blankets the room in silence, and I go back to the meticulous brush strokes. Since he is his own boss, he's been spending all of his free time with me, helping me build my portfolio by creating experiences that inspiration can stem from.

I've come to terms with my past. As well as a person can. I got out of the suffocating suburb of upstate New York and started completely over. That doesn't mean that the past hasn't leaked through the walls I built up.