Lost

Part One

I finish dropping my bags in the backseat of my car and slide into the driver's seat, putting the key in the ignition to start. Moments after the car starts moving, my phone vibrates. Can't check it while I'm driving. I keep driving, but the phone continues to buzz. I peek at the screen. A text.

Morgan: You can't ignore me. At least text if you can't call me back

I groan. What does my stepmom want now? She knows I'm on my way to visit Dad. I mean, seriously? I just saw her not even fifteen minutes ago. Still, I pull over on the shoulder to answer her. She'll have to deal with a text because I don't have time to call back.

Me: What
Morgan: You could've called back
Me: I was driving Morgan. I'm on the shoulder now
Morgan: Good girl
Me: I'm not a dog
Morgan: Could've fooled me 😅
Me: What did you call me for
Morgan: I just wanted to say have a nice weekend

I stare at the text. That's it? No jabs at my dad or I? Really, that dog joke was a little too tame for Morgan. But still, it's nice of her.

Me: thanks. You too

With that, I put my screen in sleep mode and drop it back on the other seat then start the engine up and get back on the road. At least traffic isn't too bad today like it is most Friday's. The last time I had to drive to my dad's house in Port Deposit, the roads were packed. Today I can take my time and enjoy the scenery of trees lining the highway, along with a view of the river far up ahead. After another half hour of driving through suburbs and across a bridge, I'm finally in historic Port Deposit, my dad's town.

The road is really narrow, and the houses are close together and close to stone cliffs. Railroad tracks cover the perimeter of town, and a few feet further is the river. No wonder this town always floods when there's a lot of rain.

The buildings here have an old feel to them, having been painted either bright colors or odd pastels. I recall seeing some gargoyles atop one house. Once I see a house nearly pressed against the slate cliffs, I pull into the driveway and park my little car next to my dad's Ford pickup truck. Dad's standing by the front door waiting for me with a wide smile. Leaving my bags, I get out to meet him. "Reyna! How are you?" he asks before trapping me with a bear hug, and releasing me soon after.

"Good," I reply. He has dark circles under his eyes- probably from all those late nights he spends teaching at the college. Yet it seems that the worry lines on his face have become more prominent as well, which give a subtle hint of his true age. His eyes are bright, and have depth that alludes to hidden knowledge and sadness. Sadness that he hides from the world, but Morgan and I know.

Just looking at him, Matthew Edith could be any age between twenty four and thirty five years old. My dad isn't all that old actually; he's only about thirty two, but he looks almost the same as he did when I was born minus the tired face. With his dark auburn hair, tan skin, and bright green eyes though, some of my friends have commented that he's kind of hot. Which... Is weird.

The sadness in those eyes is from something that happened when I was seven. On that day ten years ago, the day after my birthday, my mom died. Not Morgan, but my true, biological mother.

It was hard for my dad, but he eventually got over it a little after five years and started dating again. That's how he met Morgan. They hit it off, and got married later. But it wasn't the same, and I think Morgan knew that. I still clearly remember their last fight before their divorce:

My dad came through the front door late one night. "Hey, I'm home!" He shouted. Me, being eleven, poked my head up and gave my own reply, but plopped back down on a chair. "Melody!" Footsteps hurried down the stairs, and my dad looked up with hopeful eyes. As soon as he saw it was Morgan though, his face crumpled, and he realized his mistake. Morgan's face burned with rage.

"I'm not Melody."

"Morgan, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I meant to say your name. I don't know why I called for-"

"Save it," the petit blond woman snapped angrily. "Don't call me sweetheart." She swiftly turned on her heel, and went back up the stairs. She soon returned with a large suitcase. "This is over, Matthew. I'm done with you using me to replace your dead wife. Don't deny it. I've seen your face fall when you realize it's not her in front of you!" Tears are streaming down Morgan's face. "I'll be back for my other stuff."

"Morgan-! Please, I'm sorry!"

"Sorry isn't good enough anymore, Matt. I want a divorce."

The two of them were divorced within two weeks, and while my dad got the house here in Port Deposit, Morgan got custody of me even though she wasn't my biological relative. I wound up moving to Philadelphia with her when she moved to her new place. The two hardly ever spoke these days.

"Reyna? Do want me to help bring in your stuff?" Dad asks, snapping me out of memory lane.

"Huh? Oh, no thanks, Dad, I've got it." He nods once.

"Alright. Well, I'll be inside grading some papers if you need anything. And dinner's at six. I'll see you in half an hour then."

"Okay. Thanks Dad." Half an hour is plenty of time to unpack.