the doorman » a.i au

thirteen; "23 Hennigs Street."

My dear Kara,

I hope you aren’t too surprised by this letter.

How are you? It has been long, hasn’t it? Do you remember the day I took you out for a fishing trip? You were 16, I remember that. It was before everything happened. Nevertheless, the photo I took of you when you stood by the lake – I still keep it next to my bed. I look at it every night; it makes me feel like I still have a piece of you with me, although I am sure you have grown to be a more beautiful girl.

In case you were wondering, I got your current address from your best friend – what is her name, Sarah? – whom your mother has been keeping in touch with ever since the last time we met. How is she?

Speaking of which, that was a bad day for all of us. I hope you have forgiven us for what we did. Would it be too much for me to invite you over to my place? I would like to fix our relationship. You are the only daughter I have and I do miss you, Kara.

I really hope to see you.

Love,

Dad

P.S Address: 23 Hennigs St.

I ran my fingers across the page, feeling the dents where he had pressed the pen so hard it nearly formed a hole. I could picture his frail fingers going across this page, pausing once in a while as he re-read the things he had written. I could imagine the desperation in his voice if he were to read out the letter to me instead. And as pleading as he might sound, I would have turned the other way and left him. I might even have laughed. I mean, trying to reconcile with me only after 3 years? What had he been doing in that timeframe? Growing a whole farm of peonies?

But laughing was the last thing I felt like doing as I skimmed through the words I had almost memorized. My heart ached in the bitterest way possible. You have to understand, my dad was never one to initiate a conversation with his old friends unless there was a need to do so. For example, he initiated a reunion with his high school friends once only because he needed funds for his new company. And if he weren’t a changed man – which I did believe he isn’t - that could only mean one thing; something had happened and he needed me to do him a favour or two.

“Are you gonna see him?” Ashton walked over and handed me a cup of coffee, “You need this. Wow, you look terrible.”

“Aren’t you the best boyfriend ever?” I rolled my eyes.

I would have snorted if it weren’t for the fact that I did agree with him. My face donned eyebags that were almost twice their usual size. Concealers didn’t even seem to help. I barely got any sleep last night and Ashton woke up grumpy due to my all-night tossing and turning.

“Maybe you should think through it before making a decision,” he put his arm around my shoulders, rubbing one softly, “Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

That was part of the reason why I couldn’t get any sleep last night. I knew Ashton deserved to know what happened between my parents and I. The fact that I hadn’t told him bothered me a lot and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I feared losing him. I was scared he would turn his back on me the moment I enlightened him on my relationship with my parents. After all, what kind of fucked up daughter walked out of her parents’ lives voluntarily?

I took a deep breath before starting. My palms felt moist as I clasped my hands together, as if the action would help hold me together. But it didn’t.

“I don’t know where or how to start, Ash.”

“How were your parents?”

“They were... ambitious.”