The History Of You And Me

January 2017.

*Edited*

When I first stepped off the plane all alone to start a new journey in a new country, I was in complete agony - Not just because of the situation but because I'd just buried my sister a few weeks prior. 

It almost felt like we barely made it home from the funeral service before we were at the airport where they were shipping me off, like some kind of parcel.

After losing the one person I was closest to, I wanted to be at home mourning with my family, not in a different country with no familiar face in sight.

 But of course that didn't matter to Dad because,

"You have to be there by Friday, you're already behind by a few weeks. The dean did us a favor."

I know Dad was heartbroken about her death too despite not showing it. Yes, they had issues but she was his firstborn, and a father's love doesn't just fade, does it?

So I forgave him, eventually. We were all going through a lot and he just wanted to protect me, in his own peculiar way. He already lost one daughter.

It took me a while to understand, but once I did, I finally went home for the holidays.

"Hey there, stranger."
I smile at my intruder.

It's cold today but I think my body has slightly adjusted to the weather here. It's no longer unbearably cold, it's just cold. And that's saying a lot because I've just come back from an unbearably hot South African summer.

"Took you long enough."

I tease.

 It's only been about 30 minutes since I landed but I would've preferred to have found him waiting for me, he knows how I feel about the cold.

"Bella, I wanted to make an entrance."
He says as he makes his way out of the car to come load my bags.

"Wow, it somehow looks even worse in person." 

I joke. He sold his old scrapyard of a car then went and got himself another scrapyard of a car.

The 'old-school masterpiece' as he keeps calling it, is in desperate need of a paint job and I'm pretty sure it's missing a headlight. But I'm happy for him because believe it or not, it's his dream car. 

The man's love for anything vintage is admirable.

"Oh, you know you love it."

I really do. I love it for him.

I love that he's so unapologetically himself. You can never take that away from him if you tried.

"How was it?"

He soon asks as he switches between driving and looking at me.

We're now headed back to campus side and I'm not mad that he missed a few of our exits. I know he's taking longer routes so he can drive his car longer.

I don't doubt he's been driving it around aimlessly since he got it.

"Dad was hardly there, mom was... mom."