Misbegotten

Twenty-One

"I really liked the second one we looked at," Chelsea said walking into my room. It was an odd sight that I had almost gotten used to. A month ago, it was more likely that a zombie apocalypse would occur before she would ever walk into my room.

"Yeah, I'm leaning towards that one too," I nodded. We had been looking at different apartments all weekend, and so far they were all reasonable. Small, and nothing flashy, but they were all very functional and had everything I would need.

"And you can move to that one early, so you could get set up before uni starts," she continued on. "And it's close to uni."

I nodded along with her. We had both gotten into our first preferences for university, so I was off to study psychology and Chelsea was starting an arts degree. I was mostly relieved when the acceptance letter finally came, but now I was facing all these choices about moving and a new lifestyle and uni. A small knot had began to form in the bottom of my stomach. I knew I had to move out and move on, but I felt scared to actually do it.

"Yeah, but I can always stay with Loren, I don't need to find one that let's me move in right away."

"I guess, but like if the options there," Chelsea shrugged. I nodded again, sighing slightly. Chelsea eyed me, "What is it?'

"Nothing," I lied. She raised an eyebrow at me and I sighed again. "I guess I'm more nervous about moving and starting something new than I thought I'd be."

"I thought you wanted everything to change?"

"I do, but I guess I'm still scared. Am I allowed to be? Is it ridiculous?"

She opened her mouth to respond - hopefully with something comforting-  but a knock on my door stopped her.

"Come in," I called from my spot on my bed. I was expecting little Cleo to come in and beg us to play with her, or Cameron getting home from his shift at work, but instead it was my father. I couldn't remember the last time he had been in my room. He looked at me apprehensively, like I was going to explode if he moved in the wrong direction.

"Yes?" I asked as calmly as possible.

"Hey girls," he forced a smile. "Chels, can I talk to Sofia alone for a minute please?"

Chelsea nodded before getting up and walking towards the door, she turned her head and mouthed "good luck" to me, before disappearing completely. I turned my attention back to my father. For the first time since we'd been home I was alone with him. I knew this was inevitable, but I had hoped to avoid it anyway.

He awkwardly gestured to the chair at my desk, "Can I sit down?"

I shrugged. "It's your house."

He ignored my curt response and sat down. He looked around the room, taking it all in, before focussing on me.

"Sofia, I think we should talk about what happened," he began. "I can't apologise enough, and you have to know, that you didn't mean it the way it came out."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I only meant to console Florence that what I had done was a mistake."

"So, you did mean it how it sounded."

"No, Sofia, I didn't mean that I didn't love you."

"But given the choice you'd choose Florence over me?" My voice rose slightly. My attempt to stay calm was slowly fading, but I was finding it even harder to care. His eyes, the green ones we shared, looked like they belonged to a stranger. I hardly recognised him anymore.

"She is my wife Sofia," he reminded me sharply.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know that word meant anything to you. It didn't seem to matter when you were having an affair with my mother."