Fifteen
“You’ll be okay?” Rhyson asks, reaching out and grabbing my hand. I nod my head and give him a small smile, knowing that if I speak, I might burst into tears. “It will be good for you to get away. I’ll be here when you get back, I promise.”
I nod again as my dad walks out of the office, Michelle in tow. He waves to me, signalling it’s time to leave. Even though it’s only Wednesday, our cabin was sent to stay with our families early and anyone else who felt they couldn’t be here. It turns out Scarlett was still alive when the paramedics got to her. I don’t remember anything, partially because I passed out from shock. But she’s in the hospital, unstable, but trying to make a recovery. No one is sure if she’s going to pull through or not, but until she does, her family refuses to let any police try to question her at this delicate time.
“See you.” I walk into Rhyson’s open arms and he wraps me tightly in them. Things have escalated quickly between us. Since Ember and Melody were closer to Scar than I was, they both left earlier than I did. When I didn’t have anyone, Rhyson was there for me, and I’m thankful for that.
He kisses my forehead before walking me to the car. Holding the door open for me, he gestures for me to get inside.
“I’ll miss you,” he whispers, giving me a sad smile before closing the door.
The car quickly moves out of the parking lot and soon I’m watching Rhyson fade away in the rear view mirror. I expect him to walk away the moment I’m moving, but he doesn’t. In fact, he stays standing there, watching me go until I turn around the bend and I can’t see him anymore. I have a feeling that though I’m out of his sight, he’s still standing there, watching.
“How’s your arm?” Dad practically grunts, trying to make conversation so there isn’t an awkward silence.
“Fine, I guess,” I mumble, turning to look out the window. “How’s home?”
“It’s good,” he nods. “I’ve been pretty busy with work so I can take these days off to spend time with you. Anything you want to do while you’re back home?” He turns to give me a small smile, but something about it looks strained.
“Nothing in particular,” I shrug. “Maybe we can just spend some time together?”
“Sure, honey.” He pats my shoulder but something about the gesture seems forced.
The whole ride home is practically silent. I watch out my window, watching the trees and fields go by like a movie. After all I’ve been through in the past few days, you’d think that my dad would hug me, wrap me in his arms and tell me that everything is okay. However as I peek at him from the corner of my eye, I can see that he refuses to even look at me.
“We’re here.”
We pull into the driveway of the fairly large house, but even though I’ve done this a thousand times, something feels different about. Almost like it’s no longer my house, no longer my home.
Our footsteps echo through the empty house, the sound on the tile replacing any conversation that I thought we would have. It isn’t until I shut the door behind me that I can see my dad’s eyes watching me, something different in them still. I open my mouth to ask him what’s wrong but quickly shut it.
“Why don’t you put your things in your room?”
I give him a small nod before dragging my things up the spiral staircase. In my room, I drop my bags by the door and look around, my legs turning to jelly. It’s strange, being somewhere countless times with someone and then one day, they will never be there again. Mellissa and I were always in my room, regardless of what we were doing. Staring at the pictures of us on the walls, I guess she technically still is.
“Everything okay?”
I practically jump when I hear my dad’s voice behind me. I gasp and whirl around before leaning against the doorframe to calm down.
“You scared me. But yeah, I’m fine.”
“I don’t know if you…” He trails off before his eyes move to something behind me. “Something came in the mail for you. I don’t know if you saw it yet.”
I follow his gaze to my bed where a small, white envelope lies on the pink comforter. Mumbling thanks, I plop down on the bed and take the paper in my hands. My father quickly leaves before I open it and start reading.
Gemma,
If I had known what was going on, I would have come home sooner. Though I wish I could come pick you up right now, your father refuses to let me. That being said, I’m coming to get you after summer. Maybe just for a few days, maybe longer, but I want to be there for you, honey. I want to help you through this.
Mom
~~~
“Hey, Gemma?”
I roll over on my bed and prop my head up with my hand. After coming home yesterday, things have been pretty relaxed; boring even. For the most part, my dad and I avoided each other and when we were together, we forced meaningless conversation.
I call back and suddenly he’s in my doorway, peering at me through his reading glasses. “Can you come downstairs for a few minutes? I want to know if you want some things that Kirsten and I are getting rid of.”
“Sure,” I shrug, getting up. As I follow him down the stairs, I wonder what he possibly thinks I could want that he and Kirsten don’t. “What is it?”
He leads me into the main room and onto the plush, beige couch in front of the lit fireplace. On the glass coffee table is a box, that as I sit down, I realize that it’s full of pictures. We’ve never had photo albums, for reasons unknown to me. Instead we had one, medium-sized decorative box full of photographs.
“Want to look through them?” He hands me the box and I gently open it, feeling both confused and hurt. Why would he possibly want to get rid of all our pictures?
The first one is a picture when I was very little. My hair was curled and I’m wearing a red velvet dress. My dad dressed in a brown jacket and pants is holding me beside my mother, who has her hand wrapped around his waist. We all look so happy, standing in a nice park in late autumn. I can’t help but wonder what happened? What could have happened that was so bad that two people who loved each other split up?
“This one was always my favorite,” my dad murmurs, plucking a photo out of the box. After staring at it for several minutes with a smile on his face, he hands it to me, being extra careful that our hands don’t touch during the exchange.
The picture is of me. I’m about three years old at the time, sitting in the grass in a light pink dress. I’m smiling happily up at someone, my eyes bright. However the picture was taken close to me, so I can’t see who it is.
“Is Kirsten making you get rid of these?” I ask, my voice starting to rise before I can control it. When my dad doesn’t answer, his expression blank, I get upset. “Are you really letting her control your life?”
“She’s not controlling my life, Gemma,” he says sternly. Avoiding my eyes, he shakes his head. “She’s my wife and I take the choices we make together very seriously.”
“I don’t understand,” I snap, my hand clenching into a fist around the picture.
“What don’t you understand?”
“How you can put Kirsten before your own daughter, your own blood!” I jump to my feet, my anger boiling. The conversation started off with the pictures but now everything is spilling out. Maybe all this time away from my dad and then seeing him again has made me unable to hold things in. But even though I want to close my mouth, I refuse to. “You treat me like I come in second! You let her push you around, treat me badly and threaten me! Do you think that’s okay?” I pause for a second to catch my breath but before I can continue my dad’s angry voice booms through the empty house.
“Gemma!” For the first time in years, I hear my father yell. “Kirsten is my wife and your step-mother! Do you know why she treats you the way she does? Because of how horribly you treat her!” I roll my eyes, not believing what he says. “I’m serious, Gemma! She comes to me crying, not understand why you hate her so much! She never did anything to you!”
The fire crackles, removing the silence from the room. I’m completely speechless. I’ve never seen my father this angry before. For the first time in my life, I think I’m at a complete loss for words. I’ve always got away with everything, never opened up about how I feel and gone through life walking on the wrong side of things. But the first time when I express how I feel, the one time, even if it’s in the wrong way, I get this.
“Why did you let Mom slip through your fingers?” I whisper.
My father breaks eye contact and fixes his glasses. This time, he’s at a loss for words. I don’t think I’ve ever let any part of this slip out before, the part when my dad just let my mom leave us without so much as a goodbye. Not once did he try to work things out or hold this family together. I think that was the first part of my downfall.
Sure maybe my own mother isn’t attracted to men for all I know. But I don’t think that my dad ever knew until the few letters that came. So he has no excuse for letting things fall apart. And even when Mellissa was gone, he was only there for me until Kirsten told him to stop. He never tries to hold things together. It’s only a matter before him and I really fall apart.
He doesn’t answer my question about Mom. Instead he sighs heavily and plucks the photograph of my from my fingers.
“It isn’t Kirsten who wants to get rid of these,” he tells me, his voice softer. He holds the picture of me facing towards me, as if I’m looking in a mirror to the younger version of me. “It’s me.”
I wipe fresh tears from my eyes and watch as he stands up, heading around the coffee table towards the fireplace.
“Why?” I whisper, my voice cracking.
“Because I can’t stand who you’ve become, Gemma. I have to face the fact that you’re not my little girl anymore.”
He meets my eyes with a stern gaze before throwing the photograph in the fireplace. I stand there even long after he’s left, watching the girl I desperately wish I was slowly burn in flames.
A/N: I guess this chapter was a bit short, and kind of went fast. It's not exactly a filler, but more of an insight of what's to come :) Things aren't wrapping up soon, but they will be getting more intense and moving quickly so I can end this with a bang! I hope you're enjoying it and I love all your comments so much!