Leah and Trent

Chapter Twenty-five

December 19 2016 - Monday

~

Leonard

(Song: I Need A Forest Fire by James Blake ft. Bon Iver)

I hated airplanes. It wasn't like I was afraid to fly or anything. I just hated airplanes. A lot of my childhood was spent on airplanes. A lot of my youth was ruined because of airplanes. But the best way to get to my father's house was by plane. Driving was an option, but it would've meant a six hour drive, and my mother didn't approve of her children going on road trips.

I didn't want to be sitting on an airplane. I didn't want to be on my way to my father's house. But I had to. Sharen wanted to meet my father, and I wanted her to be able to meet him. But he and I didn't really have a "father-son relationship" or any type of relationship for that matter. I saw him a couple times a year. But even when I did visit him with Leah, we never really talked to each other.

I stared out the small egg shaped window and looked down at the ground that was well below us. The only thing that I liked about planes was being able to see everything from above. It was captivating how everything looked so small even the tall buildings that usually seemed to touch the sky.

My attention was taken off the window when Sharen suddenly grabbed my hand. I turned to her, and she looked into my eyes as if she was analyzing them. "You okay?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"Yeah. . .Things are just weird with my father."

"When was the last time you were in contact with him?"

"Summer break when I visited him with Leah."

"You don't really talk about him all that much."

"There's not much to talk about."

"What is he like?"

"He's uh. . .He's a typical guy."

"That's quite a description." Sharen chuckled, and I smiled at the way her voice danced in my ear.

"We don't really talk to each other. We never did. Even before my parents divorced. The most I heard him speak was when he was arguing with my mother." There was a sudden shift in the air and Sharen gripped my hand tighter.

". . .I didn't force you into doing this, did I?"

"No, not at all."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure, Share," I said fixing my eyes on her. She looked down at her lap, and I leaned in to whisper in her ear. "As long as you're with me, everything's fine." When I kissed her cheek, she turned to me with doey eyes and a soft expression that I rarely ever saw on her.

"I didn't want to put you in a bad place," she said sadly.

"Babe, you didn't." I gently braced her lips with mine. The smell of roses and jasmine drifted into my lungs, and my nose brushed against hers. "It'll be fine."

During the rest of the flight, I tried to believe my own words. I tried to believe that maybe things could be normal, perhaps even cordial, between me and my father. But no matter how hard I tried to believe it, that all seemed closer to fantasy than reality.

My father was waiting for us at the airport. The second he saw us, he walked up to Sharen with a grin. "You must be Sharen," he said walking to her with open arms.

"It's so nice to meet you," she said letting him wrap his arms around her. I stood off to the side while they hugged each other.

"Likewise." He stepped back from Sharen and turned his attention to me. When he did, his smile became stiff, and his eyebrows furrowed.

"How are you?" he asked me in a monotone.

"Fine."

"Good, good." There was a heavy silence and a moment where it seemed like everything froze. I stared at my father, and he just looked at the ground. "We should probably hit the road. I'll take your bag," he said before grabbing the suitcase handle out of Sharen's hand and carrying it away. Sharen turned to me, concerned. I took a deep breath, and she grabbed my hand.

I wanted to put on a bright face for Sharen. I honestly didn't want the trip to be a disaster. Before getting on the plane, I thought I could manage it. But feeling like a guest in my own father's house made me realize how foolish I was. I couldn't just pretend and act like everything was fine. How was I suppose to ignore something that was so deep rooted?

I was walking through the house headed for the bathroom, when I passed the kitchen and saw my father standing in front of the stove. "Hey, Leo," he said as I passed by. I stopped and walked back to stand in the entrance way of the kitchen. "You want to help? I'm making spaghetti." He stood over a pot filled with tomato sauce and stirred it while he smiled.

"I probably wouldn't be that much help."

"Nonsense. Besides we can talk about what's new with you."

"Nothing's new."

"You're about to graduate. How could nothing be new?" I shrugged my shoulders, but I wasn't sure that he saw. It was quiet. There were always these awkward silences with me and my father. There was nothing I could say to him. I had a long list of things I wanted to say to my father, but I couldn't. "I haven't seen you in so long," he said with a straight face.

"I wonder why," I said under my breath.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Just say it, Leonard," he said turning to me. He stopped stirring the pot and became stiff. I contemplated just walking away. But I was being handed an actual opportunity to say what I had wanted to for years.

"You're the one that left."

". . .I know."

"Why did you? Why did you move away?"

"I had to work."

"You could've worked from Atlantis."

"The airport is here in L.A., and I needed to be close."

"You didn't need to be close to your family? You didn't need to be close to Leah?" He turned back to the stove and started stirring the pot slowly. "She needed you."

"You think I don't know that. I tried to make things better. I tried to make things right between me and your mom. I tried, but. . .things got away from me. And I'm sorry for that."

"I don't need your apology." I stepped away and headed for the bathroom.

The thing about the past was that it was like a glue trap. No matter how hard I fought to get away from it, and no matter how hard I tried to forget about it, it stuck to me. Being free of the past was never really an option. So what were you suppose to do when the past was like poison running through the veins of the present? Things would have been better if the past wasn't so tainted.

(Song: We Fight Ourselves by Epik High ft. Younha)