22 | The Chat
There's a soft knock on my bedroom door which captures my attention. Looking over my shoulder, I expect to see Scarlett's face peeking through the small crack. Instead, my father's tall figure is leaning against the dark wooden frame.
"Your mother wanted me to give you this." He holds up a cherry red tie. "I think it's supposed to match Scarlett's dress. She sort of threw it at me."
"That sounds about right, thanks."
I discard my black tie on the bed, then walk towards Dad to grab the new one. Maybe I'll have better luck at tying it?
He walks deeper into the room and takes a seat on the end of the bed. I return to my spot in front of the mirror and attempt to perfect my outfit. If I can't, there's nothing worse than having my mother do it for me in front of Scarlett. I'll be as red as this tie.
"I know I haven't said this yet, but I'm glad you are home, son." His gaze drops to the ground. In that fleeting moment, I'd never seen him look that broken.
"I'm happy to be back," I reply.
"The thought of losing you . . . Don't do it again." Just as he was vulnerable, he solidifies back into his rough exterior.
"I promise," I meekly say.
"Now." His back straightens. "We need to talk."
"About your greying hair?" I chuckle.
"Actually, it's silver," he corrects.
Dad moves away from the bed and wonders towards me. My heart thuds inside my chest at the thought of his talk – what does he want to know? His somber mood doesn't give clues.
"What is on your mind?"
"I want to know more about Scarlett," he admits. "Is there something I should know?"
My mind instantly jumps to Ricky and the motel, then to Scarlett's incident with the gang. Should I tell him about those crimes we committed? Would he tell my mother? I can't afford for their opinions to change, especially when they're just starting to like her.
We all make bad choices . . . but that doesn't mean it won't change the way people view us.
"Scarlett is here because I want her to be."
"Or is she pregnant with your child?"
His blunt attitude makes me sigh with relief. At least he doesn't suspect we killed and tried to cover the body.
"Of course not." I shake my head. "We're not . . . it's not. Just no."
"Then?"
Does there need to be a reason? Of course not, but it doesn't stop the guilt from seeping into my stomach. We have secrets, dirty secrets.
If I told him, he could protect us from anything bad that might come from this. But I can't bring myself to confessing our dirty laundry because I'd changed since I left and I don't know if I'm ready to accept that.
I could, however, accept this.
"Because I love her." And that's the truth. I haven't loved anyone like I love Scarlett and maybe that's because I'm young? Or I just figured it out sooner.
"Okay." He thoughtfully nods his head.
"If you don't want me to be here, I can pack up and leave," I say.
A scowl quickly falls upon his aged face, "You know that isn't what I want. I just want to know you aren't in trouble."
"I'm not."
"Then what are your plans?" he questions.
I straighten my tie and then step away from the mirror. If I keep staring at the tie, I might go mad. I think it's perfect. Though, perfection is such a messed up concept.
"I want to go back to law school and work for you."
"And where does Scarlett come into this?"
"She doesn't know it yet, but one day, I'm going to marry her." I smile.
Dad takes a seat on the bed. He clasps his hands together, the same unsure frown settling on his face.
"Do you think that's a wise choice?" he asks.
"Yes." I confidently nod my head. "I've never been so sure of anything else in my life."
"Why? What does she have that nobody else does?"
Anger begins to swell inside my chest. Why must he question my feelings for her, especially when he doesn't know her so well?
"Because she is the colour of my world. Without her, it's dark and I can't do it anymore. I might as well be dead," I answer.
His face softens, which makes me worried.
"Pierce, I care about you. If you say she's the one, I believe you. I want things to be good in your life. And I never want you to feel like you can't be here," he explains. "I want to know more about Scarlett."
"Thank you, Dad." I grin. "And you're going to love her."
"She sounds like a hard worker. Maybe she'll teach you a thing or two about hard work?" He chuckles.
"And I'm sorry about leaving . . . scaring you guys. It was wrong but I would never change what I did."
"You can make it up to me when you come back to work." He softly smiles. "Maybe I could get Scarlett a reception job?"
"Thank you."
"Don't think I'm giving it to you easy either. You've got a lot to make up for."
"I never expect things to be easy." I shake my head. "I think Scarlett will love it too."
He smiles. "I hope the pair of you are happy, like your mother and I."
I wonder if they are happy . . . they were happy before things changed.
"Come on, your mother wants you waiting at the bottom of the stairs."
"Why?"
"You know what she's like, classic romantic at heart."
"Oh, okay."
We quickly head downstairs and I lean against the handle of the stairs and wait. Dad looks at his golden watch while I stare at the top floor. Any moment and they'll be here unless my mother has scared her off.
Heels clicking against the flooring is the sign that gives them away. I move to the staircase, my heart thudding in my chest. I watch as Scarlett appears at the top of the stairs, a smile spreading across her red lips.
Scarlett grabs the tail of her cherry red dress and begins descending the stairs. Her beautiful hair is curled and pinned to the side, allowing the light to kiss he freckled complexion.
When Scarlett reaches the last few step, I hold my hand out to help her.
"You look beautiful," I whisper, drawing her in closer.
"Really?" she mutters. "It's not too much? Your mother was about to throw glitter on me at one point."
"No, you're perfect." I kiss her cheek.
"Doesn't she look gorgeous, Pierce?" My mother calls out as she descends the stairs dressed in her own black lace embossed flowing gown.
"Yes, and we should be off!" I point out.
"That's right Rachel, otherwise we'll be late." Mum huffs and shuffles towards the door. The four of us walk outside and get into our waiting vehicle. Dad takes the driver's seat while the rest of us pile in.
"Is there anything I should know about this event?" she whispers.
"It's all about having fun, glitter, and money. But don't worry, you'll blend in with everyone else." I don't want to tell her she might stand out in the bright red dress. The fabric clings to her hour glass figure.
"Okay." She nods.
"Whatever happens, I'll be with you."
"Thank you." Scarlett takes my hand and squeezes it tightly. I squeeze her hand back and smile.
Dad drives out of the driveway while my mother plays with the music stations. She picks something classical which is fitting for our mood. The song playing reminds me of my childhood.
When I was younger, I watched my parents go through this process. My mother would blot her red lipsticks on our cheeks before racing out the door. My father would open the car door and kiss her hand before she stepped into the vehicle. When they'd return home, they'd stand in the entry and dance to no music. I'd wondered if I'd ever find that piece of happiness for myself . . . or if I'd get to the point of dancing to no music because we are all we need.
Scarlett is all I'll ever need, even if she doesn't believe it, I do.
Her dress: