Visions of Fate

THIRTY - EIGHT : AN UNWANTED VISITOR

I arrived home in the evening, after spending the rest of my day with Grace. Ethan had insisted on dropping me home, but I assured him that I'd be fine.

So after a wave goodbye to my friend, and a kiss goodbye to my boyfriend, I set off to my house, loving the cool night breeze that blew through my hair. Since I didn't know my way back home, I'd used google map to guide me back, and though it was a lot more complicated than it sounded, it was still worth it.

When I'd opened my phone, I saw a few missed texts and calls from Dad, and I texted him that I was fine and I'd soon be home, almost regretting why I had put my phone on Do Not Disturb.

As I walked through the darkness, I replayed every events and conversations I could decently remember in my head. It was a lot to think about, but I knew I had to. And while every discussion I'd had with Grace were happy ones, my conversation with Ethan was…not so much.

He hadn't seemed angry when I laid every information he didn't already know, down in front of him. It was obvious what I told him was very difficult to swallow, but if there was anything my boyfriend had come to do it was trust me.

After getting over his shock, Ethan and I had finally come to an agreement that could probably change the prospect of everything.

On the other hand, my time with Grace was a definitely a time I'd live to remember and long to repeat.  The more I knew Ethan's sister, was the more I was interested in her. I'd learnt today that her favorite color was pastel pink and that she loved watching K-drama so much, she watched some of their episodes without subtitles.

We had then watched an episode together and she spent more than the entire length of the movie teaching me what is was about, who was who, and no, that skirt wasn't too short or the movie too cheesy.

We had eventually come to terms with the fact that I could never enjoy K-drama, and spent the rest of our time enjoying different flavors of the many ice cream flavors she had in her refrigerator, I couldn't emphasize the word 'many' enough. I was pretty sure I already had diabetes from all the artificial sugar I'd taken.

When I arrived home, I saw that the lights in the living room were on, and I braced myself for the worst. I opened the door, expecting literally anything unexpected. That reasoning definitely didn't work, when I didn't find Dad in the living room or in the dining.

As I closed the door behind me, I heard a low humming sound from the kitchen, and my heart immediately picked up its pace. I gave myself a small pep talk, before walking into the kitchen.

The lights in the room shone on Dad's back. He was wearing a pair of cargo pants and a loose grey shirt. With his back to me, I couldn't see what he was chopping, but I definitely caught sight of the earphones in his ear.

I leaned against the doorframe as he did his business, oblivious to my presence. Knowing that with only one word, everything could change, for better or worse.

"Dad," I called, but he didn't answer me, only continued humming off-key. "Dad," I tried again, making my voice firmer.

He jumped with a start and unplugged his earphones, turning to me and taking me by surprise. He looked so different, I would have called him a stranger, if not for those soft blue eyes I'd snatched from him.

His beard had been shaven, making him look ten years younger. The haircut he he carried was completely different from the one I was used to seeing on him. It was slicked back with gel and trimmed at the sides, bringing out the inner youth in him. But even with his changed appearance, my Dad's character came in full package.

His frowned at me and crossed his arms around his bulky chest, gazing at me like I was a baby that that had just wasted her entire plate of food.

"Why are you coming home by this time?"

I squinted at him in disbelief, feeling my face getting flushed with anger. "That's the best you could come up with? Really Dad?" God knew how hard I tried to compose myself.

"I asked you a question, young lady," I literally felt Dad's voice thicken, and I suddenly wished Mom was home. Because it was her I ran to when Dad behaved this way. I could always trust her to dispute the heated tension whenever Dad and I fought.

Now she laid a hundred miles away from me on her hospital bed.

"And here I thought you would at least have some human left in you to finally be happy to see your only daughter and child again, after so long," I felt my voice waver and with moisture on my cheeks, I wondered when I started crying. "I should have known I was wrong."

"What have I told you about that tongue, lady? You better watch it before I help you to it. And you still haven't answered my question. What were you doing out so late and who were you with?"

"It's none of your business!" I lost control of my anger. "Because you never ask me about my well being, so you have no right to ask me anything else now. You have nothing left in you to appraise you as a father!"

For a moment Dad looked stunned that I had spoken back at him with such tone. I used that opportunity to run to the living room, but I felt Dad at my tail soon after.

"How dare you talk back at me in such way?!" He was yelling at my back as I ran up the stairs. "You better come back here when I'm talking to you, young lady or you don't bother coming down, cause you'll be grounded for life!" I slammed my bedroom door to put an end to his ranting.

Then I released my sobs. They were deep and raspy, but I didn't care about the harm they'd leave in my throat. I pinned by back against the door and slid down, wrapping my legs against my chest with my arms.

God, I hated that man, I hated him, I hated him. And the way he always addressed me as, 'young lady' instead of the name he gave me always had my blood boiling. This was exactly why I never had a good relationship with him, and I couldn't even envision both of us ever being happy around the other.

I was so glad his job as a diplomat had him traveling around the world and being away from home almost every year. And I knew he was glad to be as far away from me as possible.

Because even after fixing his relationship with his wife shortly after granny's death, he never made an effort to create a relationship with me. He never felt right being in the same room with me, whether it was because I looked too unhappy, or I was sitting in a pile of dirt therefore I was lazy, or I was too undressed for a girl my age. Dad always found problems with whatever happened when I was around, and constantly found ways to link the problems to me.

Therefore I grew up with the ideology that I only had a mother, and a stranger who was married to Mom and loved to see me unhappy for some reason. Because that was what I saw him as; a mere stranger.

I didn't so much as knew Dad's favorite color, my knowledge about him only being limited to his full name and occupation. And I was sure it was the same case with him. He had never come up to me to ask me how I was feeling, or how my day had been. On the contrary, he literally lived to see me in pain, one example being his lifelong hatred for Ethan and his discomfort seeing the both of us together.

The only reason Ethan and I were a thing till today, was all thanks to Mom, who had a way of talking to Dad to make him agree to whatever she wants. Probably because of that thing called love. The same he could never have for me.

I crawled to my bed and laid in a ball shape, with my thighs still against my chest. And as I drifted off to sleep, I hoped I'd wake up to a place where I felt no pain. A place otherwise known as my past.