I Can't Wait Forever (A Liam Fanfiction)

Chapter 22

*Emily’s POV*

            I sat in the park, my head in my hands, for god know’s how long. When I was finally done feeling sorry for myself, I got up and looked around. It looked a little sunnier than it had before. It looked to be about twelve.

            I slowly made my way back to the café, thinking along the way. I was sure that my dad would be more understanding. Sure he would be upset, but not this upset. What had happened to the sweet man I once called my father?

            And then I was thinking about everything about the phone call. There was yelling in the background, and he was talking in a hushed tone. Was he at a bar?

            No, he couldn’t be. He told me he had stopped drinking last year.

            Everyone had their own ways of dealing with my mom’s passing. Mine was to sit home and just cry, and think about her. My aunt’s way of mourning was to drive around, and go to her grave almost every day, until she died last year. And my dad’s way of mourning was to drink.

            I would get calls at one in the morning here from my dad’s neighbor saying that they found him sleeping on a park bench downtown, or that he got into another fight.

            It stressed me out so much, I just asked them to stop calling me every time something happened to him.

Flashback

            My phone rang for about the tenth time tonight. I put the volume on low so it wouldn’t wake Maya up. I jumped off of the couch and ran to get it.

            Ever since the first call I wasn’t able to go back to sleep. It was now three in the morning, and I had work tomorrow, or should I say today.

            “Hello?” I asked, panic evident in my voice.

            “Emily?” Paula, my dad’s neighbor, asked, “We found him.”

            A sigh of relief fell from my lips, and I sat down, holding my chest with the pounding heart inside of it.

            “Where was he?” I ask, afraid to find out the answer to it.

            “We found him near the cemetery with your mum.” The woman says, almost stopping herself. But I’m fine with it, I grieved and now I have moved on, “He was yelling out her name.”

            “Alright. Can you just make sure he gets into the house? Thank you again Paula.” I thank the kind woman, and hang up the phone.

            After that dreadful memory replayed in my mind, I found myself at the front of the café. I walked in, and Julie’s eyes met mine. Relief struck her face.