My first instinct was to run, cry, and hide, any of those three. Maybe, I looked like a head that have a big watery eyes with skin pale as milk at the end of the dinner table. But I don’t care, why does Dad say words I couldn’t understand?
“What?” Andrea reacted, her first word for this night. Suddenly, I saw the world on another edge, it’s a small box and I’m stuck inside, I’m cramped up, knees to my chest, my neck was down, hands together, and each seconds passed I feel the box shrinking.
It’s like going to the horrendous night again, this time, I don’t care if it rained. I looked at Dad hoping he could hear my heart breaking into pieces because of what he said.
Finally, Dad stood, he has not removed his gaze on me and I might looked like a little puppy begging for him to take back his words but he just stood there and didn’t even move a muscle to pat me.
“Move away from us as soon as possible, I don’t want you lingering around here and doing stuffs, now that your mother died, your nothing but a homeless child now.”
My mouth flung open, dad left the room but he didn’t forget to get a bottle of rum on his wine rack, he must’ve been counting the days to tell me that. I tried to understand the situation of my family for the past few days, I thought maybe as the eldest daughter I needed to overcome what I’m feeling and be there for my siblings, I caught myself tangled up with emotions when I cleaned the dishes in the sink or water the plants but the dreaded truth that my father wanted to reveal the moment mom died broke me, I feel betrayed and hurt.
Now that I look into it, mom’s hiding my birth certificate, but Ashton and Andrea’s were at the office, when I asked her for mine she said that it’s in their room and that she’ll get it, but she never returned after she said that instead she’ll either water the plants or peel an apple in the kitchen, until the day ends and I forgot about it, it became clear now that the reason why she couldn’t give it was because I don't have a dad.
I might’ve sniffed loudly and got the attention of the two who was staring at me with pity.
“Dad must be lying,” Ashton said but Andrea stood up and drank from her glass before walking out. “I don’t think so…”
“Andrea! What do you know?” Ashton caught up. He walked to Andrea and pull her arm sharply.
“Dad isn’t lying. Look, Dad is a serious man and after mom died, he became distant to us. And no matter how Harriet tried to put us back together as a family, we can’t! we just can’t because she is not part of the family now.”
“Our mom just died last two weeks ago, what are you saying? Harriet is our sister!”
That’s the last straw, I confided in the small storage behind the stairs and nuzzled myself, there’s a small window here that overlooks the night, the pavement is sparkling from the light-shaped lanterns that we once made as a family one night as our bonding, mom enthusiastically decorated our front yard with them but as I see them now, those lanterns were not a family bonding anymore. Mom just died and Dad made a fool out of himself for saying I’m not his child.
I’m not going to accept that, there’s just a lot on dad’s mind that it jumbled together. I slept on the stairs that night, snuggled up to my thin clothes and wishing that it was all just a dream.
I woke up around nine in the morning and found the dinner wares still on their respective places and the rotten food that was in it. It was an indication that no one cleaned it and what happened last night was real. Nevertheless, I tried to brushed it off and clean myself, I wore my school uniform and had a thick cardigan over it, I’m still allowed to not attend class, no one’s going to expect me there but I don’t want to wear my everyday clothes from the house, not with what’s happening right now.
It's crazy when the thing you hate the most is the one who gives most comfort. Clothes should not be the one you turn when angry, they’re fabric you wear every day –part of the everyday things you should use.
I remember mom always wear clothes that are vintage at some point, she likes old clothes, floor-length dresses and skirts, boots, and scarves, her favorite scarf was hanging behind their bedroom door, I slowly went on the room. The master’s bedroom gave off the feeling of comfortableness and the scent of lavender, a familiar scent that mom’s closet emit. Because she died unexpectedly, no one got any idea what to do next, the neighbors never help us, we couldn’t get to the funeral, much less for mom’s burial without asking help from the officials. They said that mom’s clothes should be discarded as soon as she gets to her resting place but I don’t like the idea of taking mom away from our home, and maybe dad felt that too, even if he talked nonsense on yesterday’s dinner, I know dad feel the same way towards mom.
I entered her walk-in closet and found her jewelries and clothes still left untouched, I could still see her on the vanity as she applied lipstick and her roaring twenties outfit and smooth waxed legs were giving off loose silhouettes. I closed the door with a smile and searched for her light purple scarf, it’s supposed to be behind the door but I saw it near the double king-sized bed.
But as I was wrapping it around me and twirling a little bit a squinted eyes caught me frozen on the ground.
“Dad.” I must’ve ticked something inside him, his eyes blazed with fire and his hand baled into a fist.
“Don’t call me that!” He marched on my way and pulled mum’s scarf on my neck. “I told you I am not your dad!”
As the shock get rid of me, I pulled the scarf closer to me hearing a ripping sound and dad almost strangled me. “Listen, if I hear you again call me that, I’ll make sure that I put you down together with your mom to the grave.” He pointed at me and walked to his walk-in closet, he took another look at me and snarled, “don’t even think about getting something from your mom’s closet, if I saw some jewelry missing in there, you’ll be the one to blame.”
My breathing hitched and threw the ripped scarf on the floor. “I’m not going to take something from mom! If something’s missing in there! Blame your daughter! Andrea! She’s been eyeing mom’s jewelry since last week!”
That day also, I went to see a social worker through the help of some officials and got a hold of my real birth certificate to confirm if he is really not my dad.
I don't know if the neighbors already found their missing things in our house after the funeral, or haven't, either way, my focus should be on finding out if Dad was telling the truth.
I know that people suffer from depression after losing someone, much more if their loved one suddenly passed away, but haven't Dad realized that mom is my loved one also? And that, we, his remaining family needed him the most?
Mr. Stanley was old, small, slightly stooped and wears a full dark glasses with a thick frame. Just as how I imagined him to be, he held his head in his hands when he saw me in front of him, maybe he got the idea with my puffy red eyes. “Please sit down, Miss Morrison,” he said and rose to her seat, I sat on the left chair. His office was simple as the solicitor he was, with brown wooden walls, a tall shelf with thick hardbound books and a huge table that separated me to him it was awkward that I saw myself here at seventeen. “Do you want something to drink? A coffee, water maybe?” I waved my hand successively. “I just came here to ask why my dad became like that.” Mr. Stanley looked like he was surprised but behind that façade, he knew it too well, I don’t need to add more description on that, I want to know why’s that -- he knew the reason my father who’s not my dad decided to be a jerk and dropped a bomb at the worst moment possible. He rested his back and pulled something in
I pushed my head back and whispered the same. “Who are you?” I tried to take the image of the man in front of my face, he was taller than me and has curly hair, a square jaw, and amber eyes. I squinted my eyes and gave him a knotted forehead. “This is my house.” “No, this is obviously my house,” he said in a serious tone as if he was lecturing a five-year-old who doesn’t understand a candy cost money and trespassed on his property. I blinked and pointed at the knob with the key. “But the key fits, I opened the door, this is my house.” He looked at me appraisingly for a moment, The man was about twenty-five and looks like a rugby player, his stature towered me so well that I can hide in his strong muscly body comfortably, it didn’t compare to my fragile little one. “Look here, Miss.” “This is my house.” He kept on staying firm with his words. Playing tough, eh? “I inherited this from my mother who just recently passed away,” I pulled the paper I got from Mr. Stanley and showed it
The lady was wearing a mesh pink tutu skirt that almost touched the floor and white ballet flats, a loose white shirt was tucked in the skirt and she wore her black hair in a high ponytail, her cheeks were in a shade of rosy pink and her upturned eyes look sharp with mascara on. “My name’s Harriet, my mother left this house to me," I said in a dignified tone. She might have not believed me because her pink lips twitched but her sharp expression doesn’t change. I offered my hand and she looked at it for a second before accepting it. "Hello, then." “Blake?” The door swung open and the man that talks softly earlier gazed at us. “Yes?” “You’re still here.” He just didn’t ignore Tiffany's answer, but he pointed at my presence like it was a big joke for him that I’m still here. I gave him a frown and straightened my posture. “Why should I leave? This is my house.” The man closed his eyes firmly and ran a hand through his wavy hair before seriously looking at me. “I already told you
Over a cup of coffee, I watched Tiffany as she told me a story about the legendary wolf with her hands. She looked like my Math Teacher who instructs with both of her hands, as if agreeing also on what she’s supposed to teach, her expression told me that she teaches the lesson already for years, she got a firm and steady eye as she talks and a loud high-pitch voiced that show confidence and never falter. The difference between Tiffany and my math teacher was she doesn’t want to be a math teacher, she failed the entrance exam at a known university in another city and falls into a private college instead, she entered the only available course there and became a math teacher, her demise did well on her in the end when she landed a consistent paying job but the people she knows and her closest friends and family laughed at her secretly as she walks, she’s just another stupid girl who thinks the world revolves on her, but alas! She was slapped with the truth; no matter how much time you c
I reached the road that got me away from the forest, I walked home with my hands on my back and dared not to look back. It was a nightmare going there, Tiffany kid about me looking like the picture in the tomb. It’s like going to the wrong house was not enough embarrassment. “Why not?” Tiffany raised her brow, the way she spoke was something a bit lower than her usual, it's a bit manly, she went to her bedside table and poured tea on a nordic teacup, “I think they gave you access to the house.” She clasped her hands and walked in front of me with so much authority I could suffocate, she lowered her head to match my eyes. “What do you mean?” I inched back, what was she saying and what’s with the sudden change of voice? Tiffany pursed her lips and give me a scalding hot tea some liquid spilled on my lap, “Exactly the words I said.“ She stood and started to take the kit to my side. “You saw it, didn’t you?” She inched into my side and whispered. “The tomb he worshipped. I believed
Michael Summers likes to play safe. Even before when we were in primary school and decided to play hide and seek. He always hides behind my back and whenever I finished counting to a hundred, we’ll switch and he’ll be the seeker. But as I read his expression right now, I can’t help but judge him. “You followed me?” The words I spouted were full of spite, I can’t even feel I’m me right now, all I could sense was the color black and red. Back when I was a child, I was humming while walking and holding a white plastic bag in both hands, the road to our house was solemn, even though it was just nearing evening. There were funeral homes on the west road before I took a swerve to the right, I don’t like walking home alone but it can’t be helped, Ashton and Andrea were still small and need attention always. "What are you doing Harriet?! You should've searched for your real father, not gone into the woods and disappeared like that!" Michael was mad, and moments like how I handle this was
"Harriet! Where do you think you're going?" Michael roared. But I was unstoppable. I pulled out the bag we used for camping and walked toward the cemented road. "Anywhere just not here, Michael," I shrieked, tears spilling from my eyes. I crunched my nose when I felt Michael's pulling my bag. "Don't you dare stop me, you idiot!" I'm hauling my bag back but he was too, I thought about what the result would be. My clothes will be scattered on the ground.I gave my hardest pull and was ready to march away but stopped when Michael said something that was beyond unreasonable. "Harriet! You could live with me! I love you!" I could turn and face Michael to give a horrifying look but my feet feels like they were planted with stones on the ground. It's heavy, my bag's heavy, and my body feels like twice my weight. I don't like this feeling, I never felt the same towards Michael. I always looked at him as someone that has the same level as Ashton and Andrea. He was a little brother, my st
I know I told myself to forget this rotten house, but here I am. Living alone was never an option, I'm always used to waking up to family, drinking drip coffee with family, and eating with family, at home... Family is the definition of home for me, but now I guess I'll be living alone and going to strive hard to make the farmhouse liveable again. This time, I have to start all over again, I woke up feeling sore all over, the hardwood floor I covered with some of my long clothes was so cold last night that I thought I'm in a dream that only say the words: "come live with me". I must be going crazy who would want to live with me? Surely, my family's out on the choices. I was finding someone to blame, I could only think of them, they made me live here. My mom in particular, but there's no point on blaming the death, wasn;t it?I exerted all my muscles to stand and went to the kitchen. The floorplan was simple, there were two bedrooms on the second floor, a living room and a kitchen and