the year everything changed

bittersweet

        It was late May, and I could finally say that my junior year was over. I had one year left, and my feelings about it were conflicted. I hated high school- everything about it- which is partially the reason I never went. I didn't like to think about the other reason. I was honestly glad to get away from my dad. It wasn't so bad when Wes still lived with us because we both did our best to hold back and bite our tongues. But once he moved, there was nothing stopping us. My dad wanted to be a good father, but he wasn't- he just didn't know how to.

          Today, instead of sitting alone in my room like I usually spent my summers, I was sitting in the passenger's seat of my dad's truck, my entire life packed in the trunk behind me. I offered to use my savings on a one-way flight to Michigan, but my father insisted that he bring me himself. He needed to feel like he was being useful somehow, even though I knew this car ride could never have a good ending.

          "It's a long drive, huh..."

          "Yeah," I said through a fake chuckle. It wasn't real, but it was better than saying nothing. "I can, um, take over for the second half if you want me to. So you can sleep or whatever. You know, like, rest." 

          "Oh, yeah, that'd be great. Thanks, Daisey." I turned my focus to my father to give him the slightest smile as if to say "You're welcome." I was hopeful that the awkward small talk was over, but it was to my demise that my father wasn't giving up yet.

          "Why are we like this?" He asked me after sitting in some seconds of silence.

          "Like what? What do you mean?" I knew exactly what he meant.

          "You know what I mean. Like, we can never just have a conversation. It's either awkward and short or we just fight right away."

          "Don't act like you don't know why. You do." I wasn't totally sure what I meant by this. He wasn't a good dad, but he never did anything intentionally. All I knew was: it wasn't my fault. "Plus, why do you even care? You never cared about our relationship when I was stuck with Mom and her drinking."

          "Don't say that. You have no idea how much I cared."

          "No, I don't. Maybe if you would've been there I would know."

          "Look, I'm sorry okay? We can work on it, I promise."

          "Work on it when?! I'm moving thirty hours away to Michigan!"

          "All I meant was-"

          "Stop."

          "I'm sorry, Daisey, please forgive me."

          "I said stop!" And that was it. This was why we didn't have conversations. We couldn't, and in the end, we both knew that.

          There was hardly any talking for the rest of the car ride. It wasn't silent though. Since the fight, my dad had put his favorite radio station on low volume, and I had put in my headphones. When I listened to music, I let it run through my veins, through every last piece of myself, and these times were the only times when I truly felt like myself. I had never talked about this with anyone aside from Mckenzie. And my mother. But I was almost sure my mother was drunk and half-conscious when I told her; so in my mind, she didn't count.

          At the fifteen-hour mark, three energy drinks later, my father gently woke me up and asked me if I was okay to drive the rest. I situated myself in the driver's seat and took a second to wake up. With nothing more than a few words, the truck was back on the road and the still air between the pair of us made its way to Michigan. It didn't take more than half an hour for my father to fall asleep, and I was thrilled to finally be able to play my music in the car speakers. The views outside of my car windows were beautiful on their own; I had finally reached lake towns and cozy beach roads. But what made them even more beautiful was rolling down my window and letting my favorite lyrics drift into the outside world.