This Is My Goodbye

Chapter 9

     My father's voice was laced with astonishment as he heard me speak softly into the mouthpiece of the battered payphone. To actually hear my voice, considering the years of silence between us, would have surprised him. I just needed someone, and I just feel like he could be that someone. I longed for a decent father figure. I craved to have the dad that would take me to get ice cream, carry me on his back. I missed it, and I hate too admit, but I think I missed him most of all. I begged for him to come get me, in between sobs. I remember crying when he climbed out of his shiny black Mercedes. I flew  into his arms, squeezing him tightly, being the vulnerable little girl that he left on the doorstep the day he abandoned us. My sobs were barely muffled into his shoulder. I couldn't stop crying, he smelt different than what I could remember. Everything was different.
     He took me to his home, where him, his new wife, Marie, and their little 2 year old. They were almost too kind to l me, and within an hour, his wife assisted in getting me showered, and gave me some of her clothes, that seemed likely to fit, to wear. Their little boy, Wyatt, took to me right away. Just by looking at him, you could see the distinct resemblance, we had almost the exact same same features. Except his hair was the palest blonde ever, but he had the deepest blue eyes that you could lose yourself too. Marie whipped up some chamomile tea, and gave some to me. I thanked her. They were so kind, it made me wonder if dad had taken me with him, I wouldn't be the way I was.
     It was late in the evening, after Wyatt was put too bed, when my dad pulled me to the side. We sat in his office, and then it struck me, this man before me, my father. Knew nothing about me. He was never there for me when I grew up, he wasn't there when I scraped my knees, when I fell from the monkey bars. Most of all he wasn't there when I was admist destruction. But now? What could have changed?
Would he even care?
Maybe he just came to get me, because he had no other choice? Did he?
It took me a few minutes to realize that he had been talking to me. His blue eyes, watching me carefully, his eyes hinting concern.
He doesn't care about me. He never did. He left us....he left me. Replaced with a newer, much better model. A better family. And for a better shot at actually having a decent child. Not one that's so mentally deranged.
I looked him dead in the eye, and whispered, " Do you really love me?" My voice broke with each word, " Do you even care about me?" As I finished, I released a primitive breath, letting it escape through my lips.

The silence in the air was uncomfortable. He fumbled with his words. And with a trembling hand I wiped away my warm tears. I stood arubtly, the wooden chair colliding to the floor vigorously. I paused when I reached the door, and glanced back at this foreign man, "Don't worry Dad, I don't blame you. I wouldn't care either. I hope you and your new family are happy. Tell Marie, and Wyatt goodbye for me, please. I really do wish you all the best. It was nice getting too meet them, before-" I stopped, and shook my head. He didn't deserve to know that the ending of my story, was all but a minor scheme in my head, that would leave me in nothing but desolate state.

I ran. I ran so far. Far from his mansion. Far from his happy makeshift family. Away from my troubles. I ran till my stomach heaved dry. And I still kept running, till I thought it would be the end of me.