He wasn't

Chapter 6

He Wasn't: Chapter Six

"Mornin', dad," I said, staggering into the kitchen. I squinted in the bright morning light and saw my dad standing in front of the stove. The smell of bacon filled the room.

"Hey there, Sofie. "

I plopped myself on the chair, trying to wake up.

"What time did you got home last night?" I said, rubbing my eyes.

"I got here at eight," he said, as he flipped the bacon. I heard the oil sizzled and the bacon looked much crispier now.

"Oh..."

"Want some coffee?"

"Sure, thanks dad."

Dad poured me a cup and sat with me at the table. He handed me my plate of bacon as he did the same for him. The newspaper lay as it had arrived. My dad always read it over breakfast.

"How was the cookout?" he said, flipping the pages of his newspaper.

"It was... okay."

Dad put the newspaper down and narrowed his eyes to me. "You sure? Only okay?" he said. "Because when I was up to pee, I heard you sleep-giggling."

My eyes widened. "Really? I did that?"

"Yep, and you were hugging your pillow very tight." dad chuckled, picking up his newspaper again.

"Shut up dad. I didn't do that last night." I rolled my eyes as I got up, heading towards the refrigerator.

"Whatever you say," dad continued to laugh.

"I'm just wondering," I said, pulling out bread and butter from the refrigerator. "How did you and Nora met again?"

Dad took a sip on his mug.

"She's one of my patients before. Remember the time when you were 7 years old and you and your mom used to visit me from the hospital here? That time she used to have her check ups there."

"Oh, right then we settled in New York after a year." I said, snapping my finger. "So that's why she looked familiar."

"Yep."

I got up and picked up the plates and my mug. I headed for the sink and placed all the used plates and mugs.

"I'm gonna go upstairs and finish my painting." I said as I walk past dad. Dad just nods like he was too absorbed by what he's reading.

"Why don't you try and paint on the porch?" he said, getting up and putting his plate and mug on the sink.

"I think I will,"

I headed upstairs, to grab my things, then headed for the printer and printed out a picture I took with Nate. As I wait for the printer to finish, I grabbed my phone on my dresser. I flipped it open. Somehow, I've been expecting Nate to give me a call or text. The thought was impossible but yet, I kept my hopes. I stared at the screen and saw a 1 new message. My stomach felt like it had butterflies. I gradually pressed the OK button.

Is your painting done yet? We need you here by next week.

I sighed. Its just Megan.

All my hopes got down the drain. I put down my cellphone and flopped on my bed. I let out a wry smile. Who am I, of course he wouldn't call me nor send a text message. That's what I get for hoping for the impossible. The buzz on the printer made me snap back in reality, somehow letting my spirits down. I had planned this day that it should be enjoyable even when I don't get to see him today.