At dinner that night, Leigh spoke to my dad in a hushed tone about Cleo. She kept saying that this woman wasn’t going to help me, blah blah blah, I shouldn’t be sent there and go back to one-on-one therapy.
“Leigh,” my father said, grabbing her hand comfortingly and rubbing soothing circles on the top of her hand with his thumb. I flinched away from the sight. My father used to do things like that all the time to my mother. Whenever he did things like that to Leigh it would feel like someone had slapped me in the face, and ripped out my heart.
It had been seven years since my mom died, but I still hadn’t moved on. My dad on the other had moved on after five years. He told me he needed someone to fill in the gap where my mother had once been. He signed up for some online dating website the next day.
At first I was supportive of his decision because he took her death the hardest of the both of us. At eleven years old I was taking care of him instead of the other way around. It was hard, and when he finally started to get better and wanted to get out in the world again, I was more than happy for him. I thought it would be the time for me to be the child again and my dad to be the parent.
It went well, and when I first met Leigh I really did like her. My dad was happier, I was happier. He was being the dad that I needed him to be. Then the news came that Leigh would be moving in with us.
That’s when everything spiraled out of control. I’d only met Leigh a few times before this, and honestly thought they were only casually dating, not serious enough for her to move in. Only she wasn’t just moving in, we were selling our house and moving out to the farmland of town. It was supposedly a dream of his (and Leigh’s) to always live out in the country area away from everyone.
While the move was taking place, I was rarely ever home. I was out with friends as much as I could be, and when my friends weren’t around I’d drive my car out to the middle of nowhere and just listen to the radio, trying to forget about the move.
When we finally did move into the new house, I refused to acknowledge that Leigh was ever there. If we ate dinner I’d ignore her and strictly only talk to my dad. When we would say good morning to one another or good night, I would be sure to ignore her then too. The only time I made an effort to acknowledge her was when we’d have guests over. Otherwise she was invisible to me.
I could tell it hurt her that I was treating her this way, and it hurt my dad as well. What else was I supposed to do though? I had never been asked if I wanted to move or if I wanted to live with Leigh, it was all just thrust upon me. The only way I could deal with it was make Leigh’s life miserable at home and hope she’d want to leave eventually. She never did though, not even after my attempt to take my own life. It seemed to only encourage her to stay longer.
“Neal, I just don’t think this is will be good for, Odette,” Leigh said, her forehead wrinkled with concern. “This woman looks like she should be locked up in the mental hospital.”
My dad gave one of his signature sighs, and rubbed his eyes like he did whenever I did something to upset him. “Dr. Jacks promised she’s the best. She said if Cleo can’t do it then no one can. The medical journals said she’s great too. Let’s just give it a try. I don’t know what else to do.”
I gripped my fork tighter and stabbed at the piece of chicken on my plate viciously. I was still right there. Was there a point to them acting like I wasn’t there and that I couldn’t hear? I was mute not deaf.
“I don’t know, Neal…” she trailed off. She picked up her empty plate from the table and headed towards the sink to rinse it. “I just don’t want to see anything worse happening.”
He nodded, and grabbed his own plate and headed towards the sink. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she instantly leaned into him, her body molding right into his own perfectly; as if they were meant to be together.
“Should we ask Odette what she wants to do?” Leigh suggested. “I mean it is her well-being we’re talking about here.”
“Do you think she’ll answer?” my dad asked, lowering his voice more, casting a look my way. I was seething now. I met his gaze venomously, wanting to throw my plate at him and Leigh.
“She can nod, Neal,” she replied, walking away from him seeming annoyed with his question.
Leigh walked over to me, and started to reach forward for my hand, but then thought better of it and returned it to her side. “Odette, hon, do you want to start seeing Cleo? Or would you prefer the one-on-one therapy?”
Turning my gaze back to my half picked chicken breast and salad, my gaze stayed there, ignoring her question. I didn’t care where I went. I wouldn’t be happy with any type of therapy. I wouldn’t be happy, period.
“See? She won’t even nod. She won’t answer anything!” my dad said his voice rising with each word. He was getting angry, and I hadn’t seen him angry in a long time. I shifted my gaze to him and saw his face turning read and his eyes bulging out. “Just send her to Cleo. Maybe she can do something with her.” My dad stalked out of the kitchen with Leigh calling after him.
Before she chased after him to calm him down she gave me a look. A look that wasn’t pitiful, or angry, or any of the typical looks I’d been receiving from people lately. It was confused. “Your father never did stop loving your mother or you after he met me, Odette.” Then she walked out of the kitchen, calling after my dad.
YOU ARE READING
Falling Colors
Teen Fiction"The unfixable; the shattered; the torn; the broken. They all come here. It's my job to remake them, because once its broken there is no going back to the way it was. It must be remade." Six individuals. Six unique stories. Five exercises. One...
