My curse

Elijah

I looked around and noticed that my apartment hadn't changed one bit, and it's still messy. I go grab my phone and curse myself for carelessly breaking it. I put it on the shelf next to the door and start unpacking my bags. I clean the floor next and then the kitchen. I lose myself in the cleaning frenzie.

By the time I'm done, it's already past midnight, and I have a whole bag of trash to throw away. I put a clean blue shirt on and keep my gray sweatpants. I leave the building and find the trash cans. The silence in the neighborhood is defeaning and loud. 

On my way back to my apartment, I hear soft cries coming from the one next to mine. I want to keep walking and ignore it, but I recognise the owner of the voice as they say, "Mom, please, please believe me. I'm telling the truth. I saw it in my vision. You are going to die if you go. Stay. Just stay."

 Even if it's heavily muffled by the thick wood. I know it's Sky's voice. I didn't know she was my neighboor until now. Just next door. But what troubles me is her word. It's not the first time that I have heard her use the word vision. What does it mean? It can't simply be a dream she would have called it that. A vision? Her mom going to die like in her vision? As I am trying to understand her words, a sudden scream chills my bones. My first instinct is to force the door open and check on Sky. The scream sounded like she was in pain. Too much pain, and that shouldn't break my heart, but it does. So I barely stop myself from breaking her door and force my breathing to normal. "It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream....." I hear her rpeat the words in her tiny voice filled with tears and strangled as if someone is squeezing them out of her throat. 

It pains me. Being on this side of the door. I feel helpless. I am so powerless when her anguish is wrapping around my heart. And it makes me mad. It makes me mad to know I care about her this much. I am mad at her for having this much power over me, and I am mad at myself for being this stupid. I am supposed to hate her. Not run to her when she is suffering. I dislike everything about her, yet I can't bring myself to move my feet. I can't for the life of me understand what I feel for her. Do I like her? Do I hate her? And why does it matter this much?

I slowly lower my forhead to the door, overwhelmed with my own thoughts. I hear movement on the other side, Sky is probably moving around, and  I take that as my sign to leave. 

Once inside my apartment, I drink some water and wash my face. I feel confused and troubled.... I need to deal with this situation before it gets out of hand. 

The next morning, the only thing on my mind is the meeting with my father. What will he say? How will I feel when I see him for the first time in years? Will I see remorse and regret in his eyes? Or his usual indifference?

The answer to all these questions that kept dorwning my brain all the way to the cafe where we are supposed to meet is simple : nothing. 

As I opened the door of the cafe and got inside, I spotted my dad sitting in the very secluded corner of the vast place, a black coffee in front of him. He is wearing a blue suit the color of his eyes. His gray hair is styled to the side, hiding his balding spot. I remember how fit he was, but now his big belly shows how unhealthy he has been. The drinking has finally caught up with him. His face has wrinkled as if he aged 10 years instead of 5. 

As I stand in the middle of the crowded cafe, servers running around me to get to the clients, the clients speaking loudly, some laughing others arguing. It all feels like an out of body experience. Like I am watching a movie. Standing here doesn't feel real, and for a moment, I wonder if it's all just a product of my imagination.

Suddenly, my dad's eyes land on mine. Right then, everything becomes real. And I feel it all. It's too much to the point where I want to turn back and run. I feel the waiters' stress coming in waves as they pass by me. I hear the joy, the frustration, the disappointment, and the excitement in people's voices. I see the smiles and frowns on people's faces. The different smells of the place tickle my nose. I feel it all.

As if it all became real when we made eye contact. As if I needed my father to acknowledge my presence for me to finally feel. And that makes me mad.

Someone clears up their throat, and I don't need to check to know who it is. So I walk to him and take the seat in front of him. 

So, to answer the first question : What will he say? 

Nothing.

He doesn't say a word as he looks me up and down. Maybe he doesn't approve of my clothing choice. A simple blue shirt with black cargo pants is definitely not something Elijah Woods should wear. The only son of Mickelson Woods should wear suits, not casual clothes.

Okay, the next question was: How will I feel when I see him for the first time in years?
The answer is.....
Nothing
As I am sitting in front of my dad, I don't feel a single thing. As if the overwhelming sensations that trapped my body a few seconds ago were all a dream. I want to laugh at how absurd this whole situation is, but I stop myself.

And for the final question, we have : Will I see remorse and regret in his eyes? Or his usual indifference?
The answer is once again: nothing.

His face is blank, void of any emotion. So I lean back in my chair and wait for him to say something.
"What do you want to order?" Is the first thing he says in his monotone voice, and my fists clench under the table.
"This seriously can't be the first thing you say to me after all those years." I scoff, suddenly feeling too hot.
The waitress chooses that moment to interrupt our awkward conversation.
"Hi, what can I get for you?" She asks a big smile on her face.
"A glass of water, please." I respond, my eyes on hers.
"Of course." She replies, her smile getting bigger, but I quickly look back at my father resuming our conversation.
"What do you want?" I ask him, my voice strong and hard.