Midnight Serenade

Chapter 3

"Ugh! Is it a full moon tonight or something?" Mom complained after we were cut off for the third time.

"Don't blame the moon," I said defensively. "People are jerks."

She smirked. "Sorry, Moonbeam, but ask Nana. People get crazy around the full moon."

I rolled my eyes at the nickname, but she was right. I'd heard her mother - my Nana say that. She'd been a nurse for forty years and had seen everything. But it still irritated me that Mom was blaming the moon.

For as long as I could remember, I'd had an affinity for the moon. It was just so beautiful, I would stare at it all the time and I'd asked dozens of questions. As a kid, I'd draw pictures of the moon in the night sky the way most kids drew the sun in the top corner of their meadow pictures. Seeing how much I loved it, Mom gave me a telescope and had signed me up for a kids class at the nearest planetarium.

"Rude driving isn't the same as having some mental episode caused by the shifting tides."

"You're right," she agreed, apparently wanting to laugh. "I'm sorry."

Rolling my eyes again, I turned to stare out the window at the trees flying by. Would this really be the last camping trip I'd be forced to go on with my dad? It was all so weird to begin with. I couldn't remember any other time he had a desire to participate in father-daughter activities. I couldn't even remember him voluntarily taking me anywhere before those trips. But no amount of whining or protesting would get me out of them.

Well, at least this year I might get some answers, I thought with a glance at my hands. The ghost tingling was still there and I thought I felt the same thing in my feet. It seemed so crazy, but I felt sure it wasn't in my head.

Maybe my birth mother had some rare blood disorder. Maybe he asked those questions to see if I might have it too. But why not ask me at home? Why take me up to the middle of nowhere and then leave me alone most of the time? Besides, if that was it, shouldn't he seem more concerned that I might have a blood disorder? Whenever I said I felt fine, he almost seemed disappointed.

Then again, it was my dad. He might be glad if I had some terrible disease.

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Apparently my mom's initial plan to have a family discussion when we got home would have been impossible even if I'd agreed. My dad didn't get home until after nine.

It wasn't an unusual occurrence for him to be absent for a good portion of the day. He worked in the auto parts factory that employed a lot of the families in our town. He said he worked overtime to explain his long days away, and to explain why he was usually gone on Saturdays. I didn't believe him though. He always seemed dirtier than he should from working in a factory all day. And I mean actual dirt. Sometimes there were patches of mud on his clothes. Plus he just had an earthy smell that didn't come from machinery. I'm not sure why he felt that he needed to lie, or why he wanted to stay away so much, but I was glad he did. The house was so much more pleasant that way.

But tonight it irritated me. I wanted to feel him out a little bit about all this stuff going through my head. I wouldn't bring up anything about my birth mom just yet, but I wondered if there were subtle signs I might have missed before. I had planned to watch him interact with Mom and maybe drop a few casual questions. But now he was just sitting and reading, and Mom was cloistered doing her charity stuff. They'd both be at it until they went to bed.

"Dad?" I asked, leaning on the doorway of the living room.

"Hmm?" He didn't look up from his book on the couch.

With an irritated sigh, I took a step forward. "I wanted to talk to you about the camping trip."

"What about it?" Still he watched his book.

"You don't really need me there, do you?" I said. "I was thinking I could just skip it this year."

"No." His voice was bored and he flipped a page.

"Why not?" I demanded.

"Because I said no."

I scowled at him. He couldn't even do me the courtesy of giving me his attention?

"Well, I say yes! You can't make me go!"

He finally focused on me and I was startled by the look in his eye. Nothing about his posture was overtly threatening, but there was a definite threat in his eye. I'd never noticed that before. Of course, I'd also never challenged him that way either.

"Yes, actually, I can. You're going. End of story."

Suddenly I didn't care about the look in his eye. I was so angry at his dismissal of anything I wanted. "Why? So you can ask me strange questions and then leave me alone for the rest of the time? You can do that here! You can go without me if you want to camp so badly."

He tilted his head, assessing, and then he had the nerve to smile, apparently amused. "Be ready a week from Friday," he said before returning his attention to his book.

"Sometimes I really hate you." I meant the words, but mostly I hoped to get some kind of reaction. Something to let me know he cared.

He mildly glance up and then went back to his book.

I scowled at him for another moment and then turned and left him alone. Why couldn't Mom have told me that she met him after having me herself? I hated that I was related to him.