Man, you’re preaching to the choir.
My gaze drifted to the surrounding graves. There were a few family tombs around the outskirts of the graveyard. Each lined up along the metal fence. At least that part of the graveyard was consistent with horror movies. I moved my eyes along the different types of graves and paused.
There in the midst of them, sticking out like the only straight guy at a Jonas Brothers concert, was a tree. Though, it was mid-June, the tree looked like it was stuck in a perpetual winter. Not dead, but not full and vibrate like the rest of the trees outside the graveyard. I stared at the tree for a moment, wondering why they decided to put one tree in the whole lot of land. As I stared the shadows of the tree grew and widened, stretching out into long black wings on either side. My head jerked up from the ground just in time to see a lone figure step out of the shadows.
A man. At least he looked like a man. He was blurry at first, but after a few moments he seemed to solidify. Dressed in what had to be a pretty expensive black suit along with a pair of dark shades stood my dad. Bart.
What the hell was he doing here? How did he even do that? Crap he’s looking at me.
I looked away from him and turned my gaze back to the minister. Did they see? I chanced a quick peek at the others around me. None of them seemed to have noticed the man just standing in the middle of the graveyard. A quick look at Nikki showed she hadn’t noticed anything either. She glanced down at me as if she expected me to do something.
When it looked like I wasn’t getting what she wanted me to do, she nudged me forward with a nod of her head towards the casket. Oh. It was that time already. I tried to keep my eyes off my father, who just watched us from his place by the tree and reached out to take one of the white roses off the casket. I clutched it in my hand and moved back to my spot, letting the aunts and other relatives have their turn at it.
I hurried a look at the tree and saw him staring at me. He had taken his sunglasses off now and I could practically feel his eyes boring into my skin. What was he doing? Without a remark to those around me, I pulled away from the pack and marched over to where the lone tree waited.
As I arrived in front of him, I took in his features. To my ever growing chagrin, I looked just like him. The straight blonde hair that swept across his forehead. His slightly blue green eyes and bowed mouth. Even the little upturn of his nose was the same and he didn’t have a wrinkle in sight. How was it that he looks this perfect when mom had had grey coming in and laugh lines around her mouth? It just wasn’t fair.
Ignoring his outstretched arms, I stopped in front of him arms crossed. “What are you doing here?”
He dropped his arms and just looked at me. What was he staring at? It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen me before. I hadn’t exactly changed since the age thirteen. Yea, I had boobs now and maybe a curvier figure, but I was overall still the same.
“You didn’t call me.” Had his voice always been that melodic? I glared down at the ground and kicked the dirt beneath my feet.
“Didn’t think you’d care.”
I watched his face turn from concern into anger and then controlled irritation. Wish I had that much control over my temper. I usually just let it all out. Probably another reason why I was getting in trouble all the time.
“Of course I care Eleanor. I’m not completely heartless.”
I snorted, “Could have fooled me.”
His eyes return to their previous concern and for a moment he seemed flustered. “I wanted to be here for you. Especially today. I…I didn’t know. I didn’t see.”
I stared at him for a moment, my mouth a gaped. I watched as he dragged a hand through his hair in a gesture I had never seen him use before. My dad was not the frazzled type. He didn’t get flustered. He didn’t show emotion. He definitely never said anything about ever seeing anything. My shocked look must have made him realize he was breaking his usual cool exterior, because he quickly dropped his hand and hid his eyes behind his sunglasses.
I forced my mouth closed and put on my best interrogator face. “You didn’t see what exactly?”
“Don’t start Eleanor. You know damn well what I said.” Oh, he wasn’t as put together as he seemed. I took joy in knowing he wasn’t as perfect as he puts off. Meaning he could be hurt.
“Don’t what? Don’t wonder why my father is never around? Don’t ask why he has never thought to mention to me not once that he could see stuff too?” I hold a finger up in his face. It felt good to vent. “Or how about the fact that when I was five, I watched my mother die and had nightmares about it for months!”
“Enough, Eleanor. Stop.” The calm in his voice made my own repressed anger break its leash.
“No! You don’t get to tell me when it is enough. Do you want to know she died crying out your name? Do you? She was waiting for you to save her!” I gripped the front of his meticulous suit, happy to ruin something of his. “Why? Why would she call for you? A husband who was never there, when I have been there for the last eighteen years and she wouldn’t let me save her. She wouldn’t let me!” A large part of me delighted in the pain that marred my father’s flawless face. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted to hurt him like he had hurt me all these years. Like he had hurt her.
“How long has your hand been bothering you?”
I took in short shallow breathes and stared at him. I released his suit jacket and stepped back, my brows drawn together. What? Out of all that he was only worried about my scar? I looked down at my hand where I had been rubbing at it. I hadn’t even realized I had been doing it.
“A few months. Why does that matter?”
I almost laugh when he cursed and pulled out his phone like nothing I just said mattered. Watching him talk into his phone I realized something. The man I thought was my father was not who I thought he was at all. I didn’t know this man.
“Yes, now. Perfect. Be there soon.”
My brow furrowed as he hung up his phone and turned back to me. “What’s going on? What’s my scar have to do with anything?”
He suddenly grabbed me by the shoulders, and I tried not to flinch against him. My father has never touched me before and I didn’t really want to see anything about him. But nothing happened. No blurred eyes. No images. Nothing. It was almost like he didn’t exist.
“We have to go.”
“Go. Go where? I’m not going anywhere with you.” I tried to jerk out of his grasp, but he tightened his grip and I couldn’t break free.
“I’m sorry. There’s no time.” He pressed his lips to my forehead in the way I’d always secretly hoped he would. When he pulled away, I could only stare at him in wonder.
“No time for what?”
But my question went unanswered as the world started to dark around me. Later, much later, I would wonder how nobody noticed when he picked me up and faded back into the trunk of the tree like he was never even there.
Chapter 3
Sometimes when I dream, I find myself sitting in my own personal movie theater. Where a reel of my life played out on the screen. There’s never anyone else around. Just me. In the dark. Watching my life pass by.
To my utter irritation the reel never got farther in my life than where I already was in my life. So, when the screen goes dark and the reel starts to click against the projector, I was left empty and hollow. Alone.