Dissonance | ✓

02 | Frosted Heart

     My parents loved the cold; they both came from a bone-chilling nook in a flyover state and every fall and winter was like a trip down memory lane for them. Unfortunately, they were not fond of our relatives there, so I never got to experience the state. That was the reasoning behind us spending several summers in Colorado.

     What I loved most about these trips was that it was the time my father could take his longest break from work. I called it 'daughter and daddy time, because that was what it was; a time for the two of us to do everything together we could not (but wanted to) do during the hectic year.

     All of his attention was on me, nobody else. Nothing hinted that that would all change.

     It was the summer after eighth grade that dad became Mr. Baker.

     Like every flight, I sat next to my father. We would look out his window and determine what the types of clouds we saw were, or talk about how that year would be my year to beat him on the slopes.

     Only, that trip, he asked me to trade seats with Jules. She was originally seated in a window seat across the aisle next to my mother. I agreed, not wanting to seem rude. 'Anyway', I thought, this would only be for a few minutes'.

     The 'temporary' switch lasted the whole flight. It hurt me a little, but I shook it off when I fantasized about all the fun we were going to have in Colorado. Unfortunately, it did not live up to my fantasies; my father spent most of his time with Jules, and whenever I attempted to approach him, he ignored me or told me to go away.

     The cold weather seemed to reach my father's heart.

     After Colorado, his cold attitude towards me became worse. He no longer cleared a week of work in October for us to take a trip to the cabin in Appalachia, just him and I, nor did we hold normal conversations period. We grew distant, which would not have been so bad if he had not been replacing me with Jules and if he did not shout at me every time I brought up something. Anything. It came to the point where the only things I could talk to him about were school, money and 'mom is calling you'.

     My father's sudden disinterest took a toll on me: I picked up a nonchalant attitude towards everything and everyone; parties with older guys gained more of my liking than spending nights at a sleepover with friends (my parents did not learn that until one night I said I was at a friend's house, and they called to check up, only to find I was not there); I traded my modest, colorful wardrobe for a more revealing, dark one.

     All of this only nurtured my father's disdain for me, and I began to wonder: was this some sort of plan my father set up so that I would unintentionally push myself away from him? Anytime I would ask my mother about what was going on, she would find a lousy excuse and tell me to go off and 'do something productive' with my life, 'instead of making up lies'.

     But I was not making up lies.

     Soon enough, my rebellious phase was in full-swing and the 'Mr. Baker' title was fully instated. That was what we turned into, and that was how we stayed. That was not how I wanted it, but that was how it was. Whatever the reason for it, I was convinced it was my own fault.

     I was a pipe under pressure, and I burst in the worst way possible.