Love in Photographs

7. Up?

We leave in the same vehicles that we came in, and before I get in with Harry, I spy Sophia glancing at me, giving me a wink. In the moment, she reminds me of Grace. I have the urge to flip her the bird, but I just narrow my eyes at her.

As soon as we get in the vehicle, my phone rings, and I see that it's my grandpa.

I mouth a 'sorry' to Harry, who waves his hand at me, telling me to go on.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Hey sweetie! How's my girl?" My grandpa answers, and I smile. His voice seems to be loud enough for Harry to hear. I see him grin while looking out the window.

"I'm great, Grandpa. Is everything okay?" I ask him.

"Of course it is, darling. I just wanted to see how your fancy photographing job was going. Grace told me you're working for some band." He says.

"Yeah, I am. I'm in Phoenix right now. They have a show here tomorrow. She's coming in tomorrow to visit and go to the show." I tell him.

"I'm glad someone's coming to see you. Maybe I can fly in or drive when you guys come closer to home." He suggests.

"That'd be great. I miss you." I tell him.

"I miss you, too, kiddo. Have you gotten any other calls? Your mother-" He begins, but I interrupt him.

"No. No one else but you and Grace." I say, no emotion.

"Oh," He says, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, Rhiannon."

"It's fine. Really, it is," I tell him, seeing Harry now looking at me, concerned. "But, I'm getting ready to go back to the hotel now, grandpa. Thanks for calling. I hope to see you soon."

"No problem, sweetheart. Give me a call sometime and we'll see when I can come in. I love you." He says.

"Love you." I say, ending the phone call.

"Your grandpa?" Harry asks with a small smile.

"Yeah," I answer, looking down at my hands. "He's great. I miss him a lot."

"I know how that goes," He says quietly. "I miss my parents and my sister so much when I'm on the road. Do you have any siblings?"

"No," I answer. "Just me."

"It must've been hard for your parents to let their only kid go." He smiles.

"Yeah..." I reply, emotionless. A few silent seconds go by.

"Rhiannon?" He prompts, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"It's nothing." I dismiss it.

"You can tell me," He says, looking at me reassuringly. "That is, if you want."

I look at him for a moment, then look back down at my hands. I take a deep breath.

"I don't know my dad. I don't think my mom does either," I tell him. "I haven't talked to my mother for almost five years. She hates me, and I don't know why. She was drunk my entire childhood, so I stayed away from home a lot. I'd stay with my grandpa after I'd already stayed as long as I could after school. I'd go home and she'd already be passed out on the couch. I'd wake up for school and she'd still be sleeping. During the summer, I'd work for the neighbors or my grandpa walking dogs, cleaning houses, doing yard work, or anything that would get me out of that house. I learned to cook and wash clothes when I was six or seven. I tried leaving to stay with my grandpa, but she'd threaten to hurt herself. So, I stayed there every night until I was eighteen. And that's when I left. I haven't heard from her since."