If Only...

Chapter 12: Going Home?

Lennox's P.O.V

I took holiday earlier than I was supposed to but I couldn't stand being on that campus any longer. With my thriving reports, my teachers were more than happy to give me an extra two days to my weekend.

With the excitement of coming home, i was warmed with the thought of my fathers welcoming arms.

I took the tube because it was my comfort zone of transportation. Everybody in London has some place to be in short amount of time. The streets were packed to the brim and I never fancied the double deckers.

The tube was solitude. It was strictly business just the way I liked it and with headphones tucked into each of my ears and a book in my hands, nobody bothered.

I watched the shy boy that clung to his mother, beg her to get off on Picadilly and she refused. Too embarrassed to cry, he held tighter onto her hand and hung his head low.

An older man sat with his ankle atop his knee twitching his foot while he skimmed through a week old newspaper.

People hopped on and off at each station until it was my turn. I slid past the anxious bodies until the winds blew my hair into a tornado behind me as I climbed the railing from underground.

The streets were dimly lit and the clouds were particularly in favor of floating above Regent's Park. I turned the corner into the flats until I recognized our thick porch that led to our big red door. The knocker and knob painted in gold that looked silver at night.

I twisted the key in but everything was out of place.

Where were Dads books?

And Dads indigo coffee table?

"Dad?" I called out into the hollow place of what should have been our cozy living room.

No answer.

I traveled down to the kitchen that was just as out of sorts.

Dads favourite non-stick green pans that he specially ordered of an infomercial were gone and replaced with black classics.

Dads ninja blender I bought him for his birthday was now a silver toaster matched with a knock off coffee maker with only one setting.

"Dad? It's me!" I called again intoxicated by this confusion. Had I walked into the wrong home? Were we robbed?

My gut began to churn. Something was wrong and I needed to know what was happening.

I heard the sound of the knob shaking and steps inside the other room. I rushed out to find my Dad with a strange man draping an arm around him.

When he laid eyes on me, the corners of his lips sank. He stared at me blankly.

"Landon, who's this?" the stranger asked pressing his nose against my Dads cheek.

I waited.

"Dad!" I exclaimed blinking away my horrific tears.

He still said nothing.

"Landon, how rude of you! I had no idea you had a daughter!"

He was hesitant and it looked as though he would speak but he stopped himself again. The stranger watched me like I was a circus animal in act.

"Tell me where's Dad!" I screamed again, my eyes shut so tight because I couldn't dare face the pain of his rejection again.

"Are you married?" the man asked, eyes widened at my Dad.

I couldn't stand this, I was crossed between charging at my father and clawing his hair out and running into my room with tears trickling out of my eyes.