Falling Into Oblivion

Chapter Eleven

IT'S THE DAY before my parents leave for their big trip to Rivera Maya, Mexico and I'm standing in their bedroom watching as my dad packs his last few items into his carry-on.

I observe him as he neatly folds a pair of swim trunks and smooths it down flat in the bag.

He loves everything to be in its perfect place and it makes me smile to watch as satisfaction washes over his face when the garment fits perfectly in his bag like he had planned.

Familiar with his OCD tendencies, it still, to this day reminds me of the time he came back from another trip years ago and explained to me how important it was to always pack a days worth of clothes and essentials. He always tells me the same thing, emergencies happen and your luggage can go missing somewhere in the airport. True, but to me I feel like it's too much work. Yet, it was his lesson learned. So he always leaves prepared. 

"Aren't you a little worried about going there and getting stuck in a hurricane?" I inquire. I haven't personally travelled out of the country - pretty much, at all. It's only in the last few years my father has obtained a new job working at the local mine in Brownridge, named Copperdale. And yes you guessed right, it's a copper mine, but that's besides the points... So we haven't exactly had money to spend on recreational trips for the whole family. Perhaps and hopefully we will be able to in the near future. Another thing, my fathers a saver, not a spender. So I don't know much on the weather in other parts of the world. I am terrible at geography and the knowledge I have about the climate in these places is even worse. But one thing I do know, is to watch out for hurricanes on the coast of the Caribbean.

"No, it's not hurricane season." My father answers.

"Oh," I loop a lock of hair around my ear. "But it can still happen, right?"

"I suppose so, but it's highly unlikely." I take a seat on the edge of their bed and watch as my feet dangle off the bed, my legs, too short to reach the shiny hardwood floor. "You don't need to worry, sweetie." He reassure sensing I'm a little on edge.

I nod lightly. "You want me to stay here with you?" He collapses on the bed next to me, slinging an arm over my shoulders, a huge beaming smile on his face, his mustache appearing so small in comparisons to his toothy smile.

Nudging me with his shoulder and meeting his gaze, I respond saying. "No, it's okay."

"Mom doesn't need me. I'm sure she'll be fine without me..." He looks up to the ceiling fan, a mischievous, pondering smile pulls on the sides of his cheeks and I sense some sort of sarcastic remark or joke coming on. "I'm sure she'll be fine to sit on the beach with a drink in her hand, without me. And she'll have a great time going to the five star, à la carte's without me. I don't need to taste the delicious food. Or..or..." He rubs a scruffy hand to his square chin, his words dripping in sarcasm. "...going to the nightly entertainment in her, gorgeous cocktail dress ..." He waggles his brows.

"Ew, alright stop it, I get it." I roll my eyes. " I dont need a guilt trip or your weird details."

"Good." He chuckles and steps off the tall bed. "As much as I'd love to stay home and watch movies all day I'd much rather be on the beach with a beer in my hand, next to your mother."

"I know. I know. I'll be fine. I just get a little worried sometimes." I pull on the ends of my sleeve. "I don't know what I'd ever do without my daddy." I say as sweet as sugar.

"I understand but nothing bad will happen. People go on vacation all the time. You can't stop living over your fears. Besides I'm sure you'll have plenty to do having the house to yourself with a certain someone..." He looks directly at me, his eyes wide, his thick brows raised and a smile plastered on his face.