The conversation my dad and I had was so nice. It went well, and I didn't expect it would. Knowing how strong he is to hold on to his relationship with my mom is enough to make me smile for the rest of the day. Even if he isn't my real dad, I'm glad that I have a stepparent who loves me like his real daughter.
I lay down on my bed and began staring at the empty ceiling of my room. Dad cooked pancakes and waffles for our breakfast. First time in seven years that he did that and I'm not used to it yet. But I know he's trying his best to be a good father.
My hand serves as a pillow for me as I closed my eyes and, once again, the flashback began.
Days passed by and it was good for me, good for him, good for us.
We dated every week, sometimes we eat dinner together, texted each other using our phone numbers, watch the sunset and sunrise, or we just talk in his car.
It was fun to love him like that. Everything was fine. We were happy together. Those were the good days. Sometimes, he would treat me with different snacks and books or any other materials that made me so happy.
He made me laugh, sulk, and smile. He taught me about his past and I ended up thinking that his future was me. I learned a lot because of him. I did different things that I never thought I would. Like cussing, and he was the first guy who was able to make me drink a can of beer.
I thought forever and ever I would stay sober. But because of him, I learned to drink.
On weekends, he takes me to his sister's house. There, we take our lunch. His sister makes jokes about her life and sometimes they go out of the boundaries when she makes jokes about me. But I had no choice but to hide the insult in me. I always acted like her jokes are nothing offending in my perspective but the truth is that they hurt me.
Especially one time when she joked about black people. It was the first time I got insulted because of a joke containing information about my skin tone. I used to laugh along with those things but at that time, I didn't. One day, when we went there for lunch, I left my bracelet which was a gift from Charlie. She gave it to me on our friendship day anniversary.
And I wore it wherever I go. But when I asked Arthur about it, he said he had no idea and the same to her sister who cleaned her house and found nothing. I came to think that I didn't lose it there. But some part of me kept saying that it was there.
Until now, I haven't found it yet. I still don't know where it is. When I told Charlie about it, she said it was okay for her. Because based on her words, everything gets lost. But I didn't tell her that I thought I knew where I left it. Still, I let that slide.
For several days, when we're hanging out, he usually walks out and takes phone calls instead. As if those calls were more important them me.
When we're in his car talking to each other, expressing ourselves and one person calls him, he would walk out and immediately answer it instead of rejecting it. I don't know if I just really had such high standards or that he was the one who was wrong for taking those.
And sometimes, when I ask him who he's texting, he doesn't answer me. That gave me the thought that he was cheating. But I ignored those.
Because he never labeled us. I used to think one day he would call it 'love' but he never called it what it was like I did. That was another proof of how different we were from each other.
I came to think that we got lost in translation. That I asked for too much. Everything was good but he tore them all up by putting me last on every list. Or maybe I was too selfish to think that I can always be his first.
Until the day when I had the gut to ask him about the texts and calls came out.
I asked him about all those things but he didn't answer me.
I kept asking him every single day but he always ignored me. I thought he didn't hear so for the next few times I tried to ask him that question, I rose my voice. But he always changes the topic. And it's not fair for me who tried so many times to gain that courage from nowhere and he would treat it like trash.
But one time, I asked him louder than I ever did. I didn't notice that it looked like a scold or yell but he did. So he screamed back to me and we ended up yelling at each other, fighting, and defending our sides. It was exhausting.
That was the first time we had a very chaotic fight,
And little did I know that it was just the beginning of everything.
As if it was just the appetizer and the main dish plus deserts were yet to come. But I didn't see them coming. More toxic days arrived and we fought about different things. Like my school days, and why he kept me a secret from his friends.
I treated him like an unbreakable promise but he kept me as a secret in his pocket. And that hurts me.
It hurts to know that he was never proud and loud about me. He never bragged to his friends about me.
We always fight about places we wanted to go to, his phone calls, his texts on our dates, and the way he ignored my questions to him.
Our relationship came from heaven and then went down to hell.
It was a new hell every time we fight like he never wanted me.
But until now, the good and the bad times bother me.
I remember them very well.
I wonder if he does the same but I know he doesn't. I was nothing to him but a doll to play with. And I acted like a doll around him. I let him treat me like that. Because I loved him too much more than I loved anything in the world. But I didn't get back what I deserved from him.