Sparks Reignited

31 | An Orphan

Surprise kicks in first, followed by anxiety and then...

Anger.

I can't believe the man that gave me his genes is actually here in person. In my school's office. Aunt Abbie told me yesterday morning that she had seen his gray Honda car passing by our house once, but he never approached our doorstep. Maybe it was because Uncle Dave was mowing the grass at the front of our house with his red, menacing-looking lawnmower. Or maybe it was because of the way little Judy was running around in her witch costume, swinging her wand madly and shouting incantations. Why is she doing that when Halloween is still a few months away? I don't know.

But then again, the two of them would indeed make a dangerous pair.

I realize how desperate my father must have been to see me. He knows my guardians would never allow me to be alone with him, which is why he has barged into my school unannounced.

The receptionist nudges her head towards one of the meeting rooms and I figure that's where he's waiting. As I place a hand on the cold doorknob, I hesitate, not knowing what to say or expect from him. Should I demand an explanation for abandoning Mom and me before I was even born? Or should I just scream at him to leave?

And there's another issue—the shadow that I caught behind the curtains the other night.

A shiver runs down my spine. I wonder if he was the one watching me then. Although it happened in a fleeting moment, it's enough to leave a long-lasting, deleterious effect on my mind. Every night, the image haunts me, forcing me to cling onto Kyle's jacket—the same one which he lent me—for security. His scent has faded, but it keeps me warm. Wrapping it around myself tightly, I feel less lonely and frightened of the darkness.

Back to reality. I inhale deeply as my fingers squeeze the doorknob.

Well, here goes nothing.

The door clicks open and I push myself in. Immediately, my eyes fall onto a man's back, who's seated at the oak table placed in the center of the room. Once he hears my entrance, he rises from his chair and turns to meet my gaze.

It feels like time is moving slowly, just like how a movie scene plays in slow motion. With a wary frown, I take my time to assess my so-called father. He looks in his late thirties, dressed in a black polo shirt and blue faded jeans. A few freckles scatter across his cheeks while a five o'clock shadow runs across his chin. I eye the familiar auburn hair of his that's tucked underneath the cap on his head—it's the same color as mine.

But apart from this, Mom's genes run stronger inside me. I share the same pair of blue eyes, round lips and height with her. Thankfully.

We stare at each other in silence for several moments. I watch as he brings his hands together and rubs them nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"Hey," he greets me. "You must be Riley."

My silence is all it takes to answer his question, and he continues to study my face. Surprise and guilt flicker in his eyes. "God, you really look like your mother."

My eyes narrow. The next few words that come flying out of my mouth are harsher than intended, but I don't regret it. "You came all the way to tell me this?"

He flinches at my bitter tone, but I don't care. "Sorry." He lowers his gaze to the ground, running a hand behind his neck awkwardly. "I'm terrible at this. My name is Marcus Wade and... I'm your father."

My eyes and voice are lacking emotions. Even if I wasn't suffering from amnesia, I wouldn't have known him. "And you expect me to believe your words that easily?"