The Foster Kid (Part 4) (A Foster The People Fan Fiction)

Car Talks

            Nobody knows this, but dad used to do this too. I’m not sure why I remember this, but at least it’s something. I didn’t understood by then but as I grow up, I started to understand more. Sometimes, it’s best to talk about it than to keep it to yourself. Sadly, my memory would play the scenes that dad did but his face would be blurry. I think Andy knew that this was happening.

            The day mom’s dad died, she looked really devastated. Grandpa died six months before dad. He died after battling with cancer- Well, that’s what they tell me. Anyways, everyone- even Uncle Ben has moved on. He said that grandpa wouldn’t have to struggle anymore. The night of that day, I peeked in her room with Andy and just watched as mom cried her eyes out. I was shocked; she wouldn’t even look dad in the eyes. Andy started to tremble, while I was too young to see what was in front of me through his eyes. That was the moment when I realized that dad was crying too, “Honey, please tell me what can I do for you?” He begged and begged,

            She sobbed but no words came out.

            “Please, talk to me. I need you to talk to me.”

            “Will dad forgive me from all the bad things I’ve done?” She stammered,

            “Of course he will. Why would you think like that?”

            “I don’t know, I just feel that I’ve made him mad at me too much.”

            “No, that’s impossible. He forgives you, and you know that.” He paused, “Now, what can I do for you? Please stop crying.”           

            “I want you to tell me what he said to you before he died.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Please.”

            “Don’t let my little girl down.”

            She cried more.

            “I’ll always be here for you, okay? Talk to me when you need to, I’ll listen.”

            I’m sorry I went off topic, but everything that happened in my life seems to have a connection with my past. Some things this person does would sometimes remind me of this thing that some other person did during the past. I guess that’s the reason why my mind would sometimes wander off. “Ally, what’s wrong?” He snapped me out of reality,

            “Why do you always make me talk?” I blurted out of the blue,

            “Doesn’t that always make you feel better?” He arched an eyebrow, “Why the question? I’ve done this to you a thousand times.”

            “Dad used to do that too, to mom, if I’m not mistaken.”

            He became silent for a minute, “What do you remember?”

            “The day grandpa died. Mom was crying, so was dad, and he was begging mom to stop. He died six months before dad.”

            “I’m sorry.” He sincerely said,

            “You remind me of dad a lot.”

            He chuckled sheepishly, “I know, you’ve said that to me.”

            “That’ll be my last words for you.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind, and don’t die before me.”

            “You can’t predict your death.” I spat, “Dad didn’t knew that a truck would smash his car!”

            He pulled over so he could drill holes in me with those eyes of his, “Did something happen that I don’t know of?”

            “Uh…” I trailed,

            “Ally.” He demanded,

            “Nate talked about something.”

            His face fell, “Talk about what?”

            “He asked a lot of things about you.” I murmured,

            He slouched in his seat, “Like what?”

            “He asked what you do for a living, and I told him that I had the coolest job ever. Cubbie, your kid has the potential to follow your footsteps.”

            “Maybe I’ll teach him something when he’s older.”

            “He asked me if you were nice and I said no.”

            He scowled, “Why would you say that?”

            “I’m kidding!”

            “Watch it.” He threatened,

            “Oh, and he asked me about my dad.” I blurted timidly,

            “What did he ask?”

            “He asked me where he was.”

            “What did you say?”

            “I said that he was in a better place. Then I made him guess where it was, he pointed at the sky.” I chuckled, “Cubbie, that’s one special kid you got there.”

            He smirked smugly, “Because he was raised by the right guy.”

            I rolled my eyes, “I could see that.”

            He started to drive again, “Can you do something for me?”

            “What?”

            “Don’t keep things to yourself. If you have something to say, don’t keep it to yourself, say it to anyone you trust. I don’t like you keeping things to yourself. I just don’t want things to end up badly. I’ve had some sleepless nights before, thinking that you might want to talk to someone but was too afraid to wake one of us up. I don’t want you to think about that, just pick the phone up and dial, okay?”

            I gulped, “Okay.”

            “You have an active mind, you always have something to think about: things to connect to, things that you remember from your childhood, things you didn’t understand but eventually understood, things that affect your mood, am I right?”

            “You’re right.”

            “Talking, it’s not much but it’s something. That’s what your dad would want you to do.”

            I fidgeted, “Cubbie, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

            He squinted his eyes on the road, “Yup, I’m switching lanes.”

            “Thanks.”

            “So, what kind of truck that did it?”

            “A trailer truck.”

            “Oh, God.”

            “I know.”

            “Did he, like…”

            “He died on the spot.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “Yea, so am I.”