Clandestine

thirty three

My hand rests on the doorknob to my father's office. I tell myself that I need to do this. I can't just go on living in darkness. I need to learn about the life my father had planned. I need information about my medical care, my banking accounts, future parties, future visitors, anything. I'm completely in the dark about what might be happening today, tomorrow, later this week, a year from now.

I need to do this.

My father would understand.

Right?

I tighten my grip on the knob and turn.

The office is spotless as I remember. A few neat bookshelves line the wall, all the books in alphabetical order. The topics ranging from anything to cooking to hunting to finances to computers to survival. My father wanted to learn about anything and everything.

On his desks are a few neat stacks of paper. On the other wall is a row of filing cabinets. I sit down at his metal desk. It feels like a crime to sit in his chair. I can smell his cologne in this room, stronger than it is throughout the rest of the house.

A picture frame sits next to his computer. It's a picture from a few years ago of me and him. We had just gone for a hike and our cheeks were flushed and our hair was tangled from the wind and our smiles were bright.

I set it down, tears pooling into my eyes. I didn't know that he kept that here.

I scan the desktop and spot an envelope.

Addressed to me.

Diane is written on the front with my father's slanted cursive.

I hesitantly open the letter.

A page tumbles out. It's covered in my father's slanted writing.

I smooth out the paper and begin reading.

My dear Diane,

If you are reading this, the worst has happened, I guess. I'm writing this as I prepare to go to my Assembly meeting. I don't know what is going to happen there. I figure that she's going to accuse me something I didn't do. After all, I haven't committed any crimes. She can't punish me for something that she doesn't like. Well, legally she can't. But she's rather prideful about how little she follows the rules.

If you are reading this it means that I have not returned from my meeting.

If that is the case, I am so terribly sorry. I don't know what might have happened, but I'm sure it isn't good. After all, I wouldn't let some small thing keep me from you. Maybe I wasn't able to control my mouth. You know how angry Marcia Quintana makes me. I'm sorry if this has happened. I'm sure that wherever I am, I'm feeling as sorry and guilty as you can imagine. I'm really, really sorry, sweetheart.

Maybe I didn't do anything though. At least, not something worth not being able to return to my daughter. Maybe she just created something to punish me for. I wouldn't put it past her. She managed to create a whole case against me after all as to why I shouldn't be allowed on the Assembly as a replacement for my father.

Wherever I am, I'm sorry. I promise I will be home as soon as I can. Maybe it will only be a few days, but what if it is a few weeks? A few months?

These are the questions that are worrying me. I know how intelligent you are, but I'm afraid I haven't done the best job educating you on how to provide for yourself. The rules of this twisted world are complicated and I'm not sure who you can go to to find the best rules.

So I made you a list below of everything you will need to survive on your own until I get back. Please be careful. I love you so, so much.

Now that I'm almost done writing this letter, I see that it might look a little paranoid. Who writes a letter like this before going to meet with the Assembly? The Assembly is supposed to be the justice, right?

Oh well. I have written it. I'm not going to throw it away now. I will just leave it on my desk top. Hopefully, I will return home later this afternoon and no one will have had to see it but me.

This is just in case. Just in case. I shouldn't have to use this. You shouldn't have to read this.

It also just occurred to me that you might sneak into my office. I haven't caught you yet going through my things in here, but I know how good you are at being sneaky. What if you sneak in here and find this letter when there is nothing wrong?

Well, if this is the case, go back to your room. Get out of my office! Don't worry about it. I promise I will do everything I can to get home to you.

Now that I've successfully filled half of this page with my ramblings, I better end this letter before I run out of room.

I love you, my dear. Stay strong, Diane. I will come home. I will keep you safe. Be smart and be safe.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

With great love,

Your father.

Tears fill my eyes and drop on the paper, smearing the letters. My father, my poor, poor father. This paper is full of promises that he can't keep. He can't return home when he is dead.

How could Marcia Quintana have been so cruel?