An Angel's Obsession

Chapter 7

  I woke up this morning with a groan. Immediately I started thinking of ways to escape the horrid 45 minutes of sitting down (sometimes standing up or kneeling down), listening to people praise some alternate and ‘infinite’ being that I’m not even sure is real. But if I ever tell my parents that I might actually get hit. It’s not like I don’t believe in Him, I’m not atheist, more like agnostic.

            Finding nothing to get me out of church (I already went to Jen’s house last week and won’t get away with it this time), I sighed and forced myself out of bed. Walking down the stairs, I saw my mom and ‘dad’, already sitting on the dining table with a full of cereal like every morning. Except it wasn’t like every morning. I saw them with frustrated faces, looking like they were arguing about something.

            In all the time that I knew them together, I’ve never seen them arguing with each other. They’ve always agreed with everything and always had the same taste. I always taught hat that they were always so compatible that they were supposed to be ‘almost soul mates’ ('almost' because I don’t know about my real dad). Something bad must have happened for them to be deep into conversation like this.

            “She’s not ready to meet him yet” my mother complained, stressed out.

“No, you’re not ready for her to-”

            I looked at them back forth as they stopped talking when I came into their view.

            “Morning” I said with a smile, hoping that they’ll tell me without me asking what they were talking about. That’s what mother usually does anyway. Usually.

            “Morning kiddo” ‘dad’ said, annoyingly calling me that name again. “How was sleep?”

            “Good” I nodded.

            I sat down slowly, still looking down at them. They both looked at each other from the corner of their eyes, then while my father looked back at me, my mother looked down and fiddled with her hands.

            I sighed while getting cereal and milk into my bowl.

            Taking a spoonful into my mouth I asked “Are we still going to church?”

            My mother’s head shot up while ‘dad’ said coolly “Yes, yes we are.”

            Mother looked at him with a worried look while ‘dad’ smiled at her. So, it’s something to do with church? I thought.

            I finished getting ready in my room, still wondering what they were talking about. Tying my damp-from-shower hair into a bun, I walked pass my parents room, hearing then talking again.

            “Jo, she’s going to have to meet him sometime.” ‘Dad’ said. Intrigued, I pressed my ear into the door. “She can’t just go through living her whole not knowing who her real father is. Sooner or later, she’ll start asking questions and start looking for him.”

            My hand clasped my mouth, hearing him speak the word ‘father’ and with the word ‘real’ beside it. I mean my real father? He can’t be serious.

            “Okay.” My mother sounded tired as she sighed and gave up on her argument “But I’m not going to church this week. I don’t want to see it.”

            I backed away from the door and stared walking down the stairs as normal as possible and pretend that my heart wasn’t beating as fast as it actually was. My step-father stepped out of the room.