Writer in Love

Chapter 4

Her father called her down once he arrived. It wasn't something Anya was expecting, not just because he was early, but because he would immediately retreat to his office when he came home. She wiggled her fingers, having been interrupted, and tried to finish the sentence on the screen. Nothing came. Scowling, she pushed herself out of her chair and stormed down the stairs, making sure to grab her journal and pen on the way out.

"There's my lovely Annie!" Peter O' Connor said, beaming at his daughter. Anya raised an eyebrow, but her scowl deepened (dad used to call me Annie when I was little. Annie was his mother's favorite movie; she died early in life, around 52. He still calls me Annie, which he knows gets on my nerves, but he doesn't seem to care). "What have you been up to today, my loveliest daughter?"

"I was writing a fantastic novel before you so rudely interrupted me," she snapped, brushing past him into the kitchen. Titus was polishing some silverware. He paused a moment to wink at her.

"Don't be like that, Annie. I'm home early! We should do something!" His voice echoed through the halls and bounced off the tile and tall ceilings.

Dad is exuberant today. His hair is tousled and his eyes are sparkling. He isn't wearing his red tie, his Tuesday tie. Something is up. He smells...odd.

"What happened to you?" she called, closing her book as she heard the satisfying click of his shoes heading towards her. "You're so...happy."

He laughed. "And you're so funny, per usual. Why are you acting so grumpy? Did something happen at school today?" he reached out and ruffled her thick ringlets with a smirk. Her father was young and handsome (mom says that's the only reason why she married him, but dad says it was his amazing personality), with black hair, green eyes, and high cheekbones.

Yes in fact, something did happen at school today. I'm sure you'd love to know about it.

"Titus, où est le courrier?" He'd moved on once he realized that Anya would not answer his question.

"Dans votre bureau, monsieur. Votre livraison spéciale est arrivée aujourd'hui." Titus' thick French accent truly came out when he spoke in his first language. Anya grumbled and began to scribble the words down as best as she could, for later translation (dad and Titus are under the impression I do not understand what they are saying. They are horribly wrong and I'm offended that they underestimate me so).

"Je vous remercie, Titus. I'll see you later Annie," Peter O'Connor said, ruffling his daughter's hair again. She bristled this time, swallowing her need to whack his hand. She'd spent forty-five minutes getting it just right using the new products she'd purchased after doing some research online (it's been years and I still cannot find the right way to do my hair. I have at least fifty containers of different products in my bathroom cabinet) and he thoroughly messed it up.

Once he'd left, Titus was going to be the first to break the awkward silence between the two of them, but Anya spoke first, holding up a finger with a stubborn frown on her face. "If you say 'I told you so', that towel will disappear in the next twenty-four hours and you will never see it again."

Titus, being a playful soul, twisted it and snapped it in her direction, sticking his tongue out. She returned the gesture with her own tongue, squeezing her eyes shut as to appear more childish. It was true, her father had noticed her a little more. He brought back some of her beloved childhood and it warmed Anya's heart, as much as she hated to admit it (after dad stopped being my dad, I thought it was best to push away the memories of my childhood. I felt better afterwards, as though I had the strength to stop pining for their love and affection). She was getting too far involved in life. The entire point of her existence was to exist outside of life. Undetectable. And it was all that wretched Damon Angelo's fault. Him and his ridiculously good looks. They were criminal. It was impossible. No one is that beautiful. He was frustratingly, annoyingly, aggravatingly-