Troubled

68

chapter sixty-eight
annabeth

"Annabeth Diane Chase!"

Fear flooded my system as my father entered the apartment and closed the door behind him. My hands clasped the flip phone tighter and if that could stop his rage.

I closed my eyes and braced myself for a fight, but instead he pulled me into a hug.

"What are you doing here all alone on Thanksgiving?" he asked as we pulled apart, a hesitant smile on his face. "Why didn't you call me?"

I blinked for a few seconds before I blurted out the first excuse I could think of. "I did."

I did?! What kind of an excuse was that? No way will he believe it, he would've seen me attempting to call him!

He frowned as he pulled out his phone, which was the newest model although he still didn't quite know how to use it, and started scrolling through his texts.

"Huh, I don't see anything," he muttered. "These stupid new devices are awful. I miss my old phone. Perhaps Bobby and Matthew can teach me how to use it. After all, they taught Helen how to iPad..."

I laughed nervously as I backed up into the kitchen. "How'd you get here? And how did you know I was all alone if I didn't text—I mean, if you didn't get my texts."

He was so caught up in his phone that he didn't notice me stumbling over my words. "Well, I came here in my car after your mother called me. She said you weren't answering your phone, so she called me to check in on you and I realized I needed to come check on you."

You have mom's number?

I nodded. "Oh, so mom called you. How...how do you know the address?"

My father laughed at me as if I were stupid. "How do I know the address? Annabeth, I used to live here. A long time ago, but still. You did, too."

"I did?"

"Yes, this is where we lived until...until the divorce. You really don't remember?" he asked. I shook my head. "How weird. I bought the house we live in now after I married Helen, so you would've been, well, around five, I think....I can't believe you don't remember this place."

"Oh, well, I don't," I said. It was hard to remember anything major before my parent's divorce. I'd always assumed we'd been living in my new house forever. "So, why are you here?"

"To take you home for Thanksgiving," he explained with a smile. "Isn't that what the plan was, at least on your side?"

I nodded as I grabbed my coat off of the counter. "Yeah, totally. Just let me go, um, grab some last minute things from my room."

My father nodded. "I'll be waiting here."

My heart raced as I ran up the stairs and into my room. I hastily grabbed a random bag from the closet and started shoving clothes in it like mad.

After a few minutes and my father calling for me a couple times, I finally made it down the stairs, clearly winded.

"Alright, well, let's go then," he said with a soft smile as we walked down to the street and into his car together.

The car ride seemed like forever as neither of us spoke. The only noise was the car and nonfiction book about World War Two he had on tape, which was playing quietly.

When we arrived home, it was dark outside. He parked in the street, which was odd for him. The lights were still on inside and several cars lined the driveway.