Annabel

Chapter 3

Chapter 3 Annabel

Our first stop was the high school. It was much larger than the one I went to in Charleston and I kept feeling like I would probably get lost on the first day, the enormity of the school not just overwhelming, but simply terrifying. My dad, Lyla and I walked into the main office. My hands were fidgety, hanging by my sides, tugging at my clothes as my anxiety multiplied. I was a little nervous although, I didn't know why. Usually, I was never nervous for these types of things, finding anything school related, fairly easy.

It took forever to get everything straightened out with my guidance counselor; whose name I learned was Mrs. Marana. She was a short, stubby woman with hair so black it shined. She looked almost oriental but from her accent, I knew she was French.

"Impressive." She's said in her French accent as we looked over my transcript and teacher recommendations.

I took a glance at my dad to see that he was trying to suppress a laugh, his immaturity being put on full display as Mrs. Marana led us through the school. That was one thing I knew about my dad. He was basically like a big kid himself, something my mom always said drove her mad.

After the counselor led us across the building, we entered inside the cafeteria. It was painted navy blue and gold, letting me know that these were the school colors, considering they were everywhere. The colors decorated the walls in the cafeteria, hallways, and the gym. I'd never really liked the color gold and I thought about why as I stood in the school where I would spend my days for a full school year.

"Impressive." My dad said in a mock French accent as we walked out of the school. I smiled and Lyla shook her head, a grin settling in her features as she playfully slapped my father's shoulder, scolding him for being so rude and like I said...rather immature.

Minutes later, we were packed in the car in search of a place to feed our growling belly's, settling for a cute little grill and bar called Twinkling's Tavern in Lakeland. As we walked in, I noticed that my dad and Lyla were very affectionate in public, something that didn't make me uncomfortable, but curious. Their hands were bound together, fingers tightly threaded together. A part of me wondered if this was normal for parents. I'd grown accustomed to not watching other people's parent's so I really had no basis in reality. I'd never been around affectionate parents and to say it was different from what I was used to, was an understatement. They continued holding hands as we walked in and I tried to remember if my parents had ever held hands when I was younger. They split when I was still very young but I don't think I ever saw them show any type of physical affection. Hell, they didn't even verbalize their affections. Honestly, I liked to see my dad and Lyla's hands intertwined. It gave me a strange sense of comfort, like maybe things were meant to be this way. My dad seemed happy with her and that was all that really mattered.

"Are you okay?" Lyla asked me, her voice so low and soft as she spoke.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

After I'd said this, I realized that I had been at least halfway honest. Maybe there were a lot of things wrong with the way I grew up, barely talking to either of my parents, but I knew it could have been worse and things did seem okay now. I told myself that everything would work out and I attempted to silence the nagging burden of my self-conscience.

************

At lunch, I learned a lot more about Lyla. She was thirty three, four years younger than my dad. She opened up her bridal shop when she was only nineteen and her parents died in a car accident when she was only my age, being seventeen.

"It was hard. I was alone but before my dad died, I promised him that I would open the shop...so I did. I think he always thought I'd give up on it, that I'd give up on my dream." She nodded, recalling the memory.