From Me To You

jan. 5, 2015

Today was the first time I had seen you since Christmas day. Today was also the first day back from our winter break. Apparently, ever since Christmas, you were grounded and not allowed to see anyone but your family.

You still never told me what happened that day, and to be honest, we haven't talked much in the past week and a half. Talking on the phone was never really our thing. I mean, I wasn't really opposed to it, but I much preferred listening to you speak while I could see the corner of your left eye twitch when you smiled.

Despite our lack of interaction, you offered to drive me to school, and of course I didn't pass that opportunity up.

As soon as I got in your car we began talking without end. At various points whilst I ranted to you, I caught you watching my movements for too long, which resulted in me yelling at you to watch the road.

Your presence alone made me feel whole. Your sweet voice, unaccompanied by the cracks from the phone, was music to my ears.

The entire day back at school was generally good, although I did miss Holden, who I had talked to every single day during the break. Thankfully I had Lydia and Maddie with me now.

I don't talk about them a ton in these little letters, mainly because they don't really pertain to our relationship, but I really do love them both. In fact, they are the ones who helped me get over you last year.

They have both always been there for me, and for that I'm immensely thankful for.

I don't really know why I'm saying all of this, but maybe it's because in between the confines of this paper I have found a safe haven where all of my thoughts and words can be my own.

I've always been awful at expressing my thoughts to other people by speaking, and you knew that better than anyone else. We could spend hours at your house without speaking. We would sit on the ground in front of the television, you would play those stupid video games that I never understood while I laid in between your legs. I enjoyed the little things like your breathing patterns and the drumming of your heart against your chest.

And that's exactly what we did during today.

Your house seemed peaceful on the outside, but as hours passed there was a thick tension growing. This tension affected your entire family. Nathan seemed quieter than usual, only nodding his head in response to anything. Aaron was the opposite of his usual bubbly self. And Mason seemed to be in a bitter mood. He kept hinting for us to leave, yet never straight up telling us to go, which confused me more.

So, due to the lingering feeling of unwantedness, I walked home, only to be met with impending doom at my doorstep.

A man sat on the porch that separated me from my front door. He wore a business suit and sat with his hands folded, upper body leaning across his knees, eyes focused on the concrete porch.

He was no stranger though, he was just my father, who was close enough to a stranger in my eyes.

As I walked closer, his head turned up to look at me, his eyes never met mine. He was guilty, or at least felt that way. Rightfully so, I thought. What kind of man just walks out on his family, on his daughter?

Joseph Geller was not a normal man, though; I've always known that.

As long as I could remember, he worked odd jobs. Doing favors for others in exchange for whatever money he could. In grade school sometimes we would talk about what our parents jobs were, and whenever I was asked to explain my dad's choice of career, I never knew what to say.

In high school I had a similar problem. During freshman year, I lied to everyone, saying that my dad still lived with us. When everyone found out that I lied about that, they wondered what else I lied about. After too much prying and invading my personal space, they found out that he never had a stable job, just odd jobs here and there. They called him a drug dealer and as sickening as it was that these rumors had been formed, I didn't care about my father's reputation at all. I cared about my own and my sister's.

For the past four years, Joseph Geller could go to hell for all I cared.

But here he was sitting at my house, the house he left, asking for forgiveness, asking to be let back into my life.

Before I could give an answer, my mom's boyfriend, Mark, who had been living with us for only a few days, pulled into the driveway.

Soon, what started as a one-on-one conversation between estranged father and daughter, turned into a screaming match between two men who inaptly thought they had authority over me.