Love Is Symphony |✓

| 10 |

"Dad? I'm home!" I hollered upon arriving, removing my trusty Chucks as I rest my weight on the doorframe.

"In the living room!" Dad called back, his voice muffled by the loud volume of a baseball game.

Padding towards the living room in my neon green socks that had holes at the big toe, I was suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of tomato sauce and cheese wafting in the air.

"You cooking?" I asked, leaning down to give him a peck on his head.

"I'm just reheating some left over spaghetti from last night. Thought you'd be hungry when you get home."

Instantly, a huge grin made its way to my face as I plopped down on the seat beside him. "Aww, that-".

Though as soon as my butt made contact with the old springs, I jolted upright, bringing a throw pillow along with me when I felt the sting of being poked by an old and sharp metal spring. "Shit, shit. That hurt."

My dad frowned at our old and stained couch which used to be white, now sporting a not-so pleasing to the eyes, coffee-color. "We should probably get a new one soon."

"Dad, remember we have to replace the dishwasher first? We can't afford to buy a brand new sofa and a dishwasher at the same time."

"But this one's all battered up and dirty. No visitor would want to sit here."

"Who says we'll be getting visitors any time soon? Besides, look at us. We're sitting on it right now and we don't have that much issues 'bout it."

My father only gave me a dry, unconvinced look which I responded with a cheeky grin. "Oh, come on, Dad! It's no big deal! Give it three months tops, and soon enough we'll have a brand new couch that's comfortable and smells divine. Now ain't that a motivation?"

But instead of looking hyped up from my poor attempt of a pep talk, my dad looked away from me. His bright gray eyes that were identical to mine, focused on the magazine rack in the corner. Right then, I knew what this was about and when he opened his mouth to utter the words I was afraid to hear, confirming my thoughts.

"This shouldn't be happening. You shouldn't be experiencing this. You should be studying not working full time at some coffee shop."

Ever since my mom filed for divorce five years ago, this had been always the issue. Especially that he blamed himself for our financial inability to continue to send me to college in my old university.

It wasn't his fault. Yes, the pay for his job as a store manager at the local music shop - Disc Rotations, couldn't feed us, cloth us and send me to uni all at the same time, but it was enough for us to get through. We could still pay the bills, gas up his car, put food on the table and some extra cash for other stuff like a new shirt once or twice a month.

It wasn't his fault that the custody battle tipped over my college savings and that since I turned eighteen, my mom wasn't obliged to pitch in for my education. Hence, why I stopped schooling.

It was a chaotic mess before. I could still remember those late nights when I'd see my dad sitting at the foot of the stairs, a bottle of beer in one hand. I'd pad my way down and plop beside him, my head finding its way on his shoulder. Then, he'd cry, telling me how sorry he was that he had to use my college funds to pay for his lawyer.

I can't let your mom and his new shitfaced husband have you. You're my princess.

We both knew that he shouldn't feel guilty. We both knew that I could've been in college right now if only I accepted my mom's financial support, even if I was already - legally - an adult. But I didn't, I couldn't. I couldn't accept the money from her new husband. Because that was the reason she and Dad separated in the first place. Money.