❝ I don't have time to waste thinking about a boy who will only destroy my future,❞ I say getting closer to him with every word, maybe a little too close.
I feel his breath fanning my face. He licks his lip as a sneaky smirk slips onto them, his gre...
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"Papá?"
I stand frozen at the door as I take in the sight of my dad with a small, yet sad, smile on his face. He's wearing one of the shirts I bought for him last year for his birthday. It's a loose button-up Hawaiian style shirt that he originally seemed to hate but started to love with time.
His khaki cargo pants were hiding his hands in his pockets. He's wearing the brown flip flops that I always beg him to not because they are so old they are practically about to rip apart.
But he always told me there is comfort in a trusty pair of old shoes.
His brown eyes were accompanied by dark tired circles under them and a sadness that I rarely ever see. His usual stubble is a little overgrown, which is also an unfamiliar sight.
"Mijita." Hearing that word come out of his mouth makes me want to throw myself in his arms, but I don't know why he's here so I don't want to assume he would be okay with that.
I tear my eyes away from him to look over my shoulder at a wide-eyed Ava who is standing straight up now.
"Um, I'm gonna... go... somewhere else," she stutters before walking towards the door. My dad moves out of her way and she gives him a small smile, "Hi, Mr. Torres," she greets politely with a small wave.
"Hello, Ava," he greets back before she quickly scurries off down the hall and his attention is back on me.
I feel like I'm sweating bullets right now. I'm so nervous. I don't know why he's here and I'm scared it's not for something good. He hasn't been here since I moved in, I usually go back home so they don't waste the gas money to get up here.
"Um, what are you doing here?" I ask as politely as possible. He's still my dad and I don't want to be disrespectful. I want their forgiveness and for them to love me again, but as I look at him the entire conversation comes back to the forefront of my mind and I can't help but feel angry.
He didn't defend me when my mom said my dreams were ridiculous and I know he agreed with her. It just sucks when someone who has always told you to follow your dreams only meant it when they were his dreams too.
"I came to talk, Mariana," he sounds like he is begging me to hear him out. I've been calling them for a month now, why does he want to talk all of a sudden?
I cross my arms over my chest, feeling extremely uncomfortable, "I've been wanting to talk for a month. What changed?" I ask quietly before walking back to my bed assuming he would follow, which he does.
He closes the door as I sit crisscrossed and focus my attention on my mosaic bedding as he takes a seat beside me.
"How have you been?" he asks tentatively. What does he think? The most important people in my life wouldn't return my calls.
