Behind the Cherry Tree, A Not-So-Short Story

16. Growing Pains

After a shower to recover from my beautiful nightmare I decide to have a girls day. I'm just so sick of these useless feelings. Maybe Will would agree to watching chick flicks with me for a day? But he's not a girl...

I pull on a grey sweater and navy trackkie pants- after thoroughly looking through my closet for a particular green dress, to no avail- it's not like I have anyone to impress today. I slump onto my desk chair and scroll through my phone contacts. I really want to have someone over so that I could spill my guts to about the dream, but no-one sprung to mind besides Will and I genuinely didn't want to tell him. Something about telling him just felt weird. I huff and throw my phone onto my ruffled bed covers. I'd have to make my bed soon, I just don't feel like it.

The dream has left me feeling really uneasy, it all felt so immediate and real but none of it happend. I don't have that dress. My parents are both still home. Mike didn't come seeking my forgiveness, he still hates me. Well if not hate, then he strongly dislikes me. That Lily bitch! I don't even know what to do with myself.

I ball my fist on my desk and lie my forehead on it, focusing on breathing and not my racing mind. I just need to not think. For just a minute, to have a clear mind.

Grunting, I stand up and decide to get some breakfast. Crossing the mini-garden separating the main house from my room, I can hear birds and a slight rustling through the leaves of bushes. It's so tranquil and just plain nice. 

The closer I get to the kitchen the more aware I am of my dad's semi-tuneful whistling. My mum can't sing for nuts, but my dad... he used to be in a Barber Shop Quartet. True story. The sound of his personalised version of "Smells Like Teen Spirit", by far one of his favourite songs when he isn't listening to Jesse Cook or Dire Straits, brings a smile to my face.

I push the back door wide open and inhale a good whiff of dad's morning breakfast. 

"Mmmm, smells good daddy-o!" I call to him.

"You're up early hun?"

"Didn't sleep well." I reply sheepishly.

Dad rounds the corner with big eyes and a very put-on trembling lip. He shuffles into the room and collapses into a chair, his arms sprawled out across the table.

"Oh no! My darling Mel! Stop the press! Whatever has happened to you?"

I try to look unimpressed but I can't suppress my laughter at my dad's ridiculous show. I tilt and shake my head slowly, eyebrows almost touching my hairline.

"Wow, dad." I say with a smirk. "You're such a dork sometimes."

"Yeah, but you love me for it."

"Nahhh, I love you for your awesome brekkies."

He laughs.

"You only say you love me when you want something."

"Isn't that the way being a teenager works?"

"Something like that kiddo." Dad says, walking back to his yummy smelling eggs, bacon and tomatoes.

I grin at his back and slide into a chair facing him while he works, grabbing a knife and fork and hold one in each hand and start smacking the table with the ends shouting for food sounding all the part of a petulant two year old.

"Alright, alright! Shaddaup ya face and eat." He grins at me and kisses the top of my head, setting my plate in front of me.

"Thanks daaaaaad."

"Yeah, yeah. What's up kid? I barely see you around." He asks, picking up his newspaper and scanning the headlines.

I sigh, everything from last night rushing back to me at once. Damn. At least I got my one minute I suppose. Silver lining and all that crap. I pull up one corner of my lips in an bad attempt at a smile.