• The Calling •

Part One: Goodbye | 1

The moon was exceptionally big tonight, spreading its wonderful rays across the night, and into the window of my house. I wish I could stare at the moon forever, but I couldn't. I have to look back at my father, who had his hands gripping his hair and his big, brown eyes shut closed.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" My father asks, pulling me out of my thoughts. I force my eyes from the window and trail them back to my father, who looks the most stressed I've ever seen him. "Because Uncle Mike is still an option."

"I'll be alright," I whisper to him, trying to calm his nerves and mine. My father is supposed to leave tonight to work overseas for six months, and he's hesitant about leaving me behind.

He fears getting fired, but he doesn't exactly want to send me to my mom's. Neither my father nor I have talked to her since she left us, but I rather stay with her than my great-uncle Mike, who drinks as soon as the sun is up and doesn't stop until the moon has fallen - it doesn't help that he has a terrible temper.

"Please call me everyday, at least twice a day. Oh! and let's FaceTime. I need proof that you're alive!"

I laugh. I didn't even know he knew FaceTime was a thing, he can barely figure out how to call someone.

"I will, father, but you need to leave. Your flights in an hour."
My father drops his head but nods. He's a big sweety and has a hard time separating himself from the people he loves.

I can't imagine how hard it is for him to be away for so long.

I help my father load his luggage in the back of his taxi, before hugging him as tight as I can. His glasses start to fall off his nose and I chuckle.

"Goodbye. I love you," I say, tearing up. My father takes one look at me and bawls, "I love you too, Daisy. I'll make sure to send you over lots of sweet and salty snacks when I get to Puerto Rico."

I hug my father deeper, trying to enjoy my last hug with him before waving him goodbye as his taxi car drives away down a dark road and towards the bright moon lingering in the distance.

•••

I woke up in a cold sweat and glance at my glowing clock. I read 3 o'clock and groaned. I will never be able to go back to sleep. I have to leave for the airport in two hours.

I bite my lip, dreading the five hour flight from North Carolina to Everette - the small town in Oregon my mother moved to after she left our family.

I sadden at the thought, but then hop off my bed, and in a sudden burst of energy, I decide that I suddenly want to be athletic. I turn on my tv and start doing workouts on my floor. I have to take my mind off of my mother, or else terrible memories will start to flood my brain. But it's okay, I calm myself, because I have Chloe Ting to save my day.

I let out a painful moan and fall hard on the ground as I finish up the workout with mountain climbers and I look at the clock.

I have thirty minutes until it's 5 o' clock, so I quickly hop into my shower and begin a plan for how I will talk to my mother.

Step 1 - don't talk to her.

That's right, just walk into the house, nod respectfully, maybe politely comment on the window drapes, and see yourself to your room where you'll hide for the next five months.

Perfect plan if you tell me.

But I hit my head on my bathroom wall in defeat, knowing that I have to talk to her. I don't even know what kind of person she is - at least, not really. Because my mother in the past was a lie.

I look at myself in the mirror. I have my father's black hair and pearly-white skin, but I inherited my mother's hazel eyes and wide smile, which I hated.

Than I remember the way my mom smiled at me at night, telling me stories about the Greek gods and of her and my father. As a child, I would smile and make sure to never miss a word she was saying. I thought her storytelling was so beautiful.

But then I remember that terrible night, and every bad memory of mine floods in. On the day of my eighth birthday, I had a dog-themed birthday party that no one went to. I remember blowing out my birthday candles on my small cake whilst crying. Not even my own mother showed up. It was just me and my father sitting at the table alone, letting my corgi-shaped balloons fly at the ceiling.

We just sat there, silent.

"Where's mommy?" I asked my father that night. He shook his head, "I'm sorry baby."

And that's all he said. After that day, my mother never came home. Apparently, that early morning, she had packed her bags and snuck out of the house while my father and I slept on the couch.

She never gave my father a reason.

That's why my mother is a liar.

Her love was a lie.

If you feel inclined, pls vote or comment❤️

Anything in this chapter intrigue you or make you laugh? Comment and tell me about it😊

Also, thanks for 145 reads! I appreciate it 💗✨