Dissociative Psyche ✦ J. Riley | ✓ [book 2]

18~ He Sees the Ghosts

"Amidst the mists and coldest frosts he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts"

~ Donovan's Brain, Curt Siodmak

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oil sizzled lightly in the pan as Jenna roughly chopped garlic into bits. Peter Desmond sat at the table, lightly reading the newspaper and sneaking glances at his daughter every now and again.

"Make sure you don't burn the oil," he said. Jenna rolled her eyes.

"I don't burn the oil," she replied.

"You're mother never would've allowed for burned oil for stir fry," he continued. Jenna picked up the pan and turned to him.

"I'm not burning the oil! It's simmering, so it doesn't burn!" she snapped back, "Now will you please let me concentrate?"

Peter huffed and pushed himself away from the table, "I was only teasing, Jen," he said, "Would you like to talk about the weather? Or why you suddenly moved back in three days ago," Jenna didn't reply, she just continued to chop garlic bits, "Honey, I'm your father. The least you could do is give me a piece of what's going on with you and Jake," 

She put down the knife and turned to him, "We're just taking some time apart," she replied.

"Would this have anything to do with the recent murders?" he asked. Jenna gave him a scowl.

"Come on, Dad. You used to be a cop," she replied. 

"And you used to love adventure. I remember when you came home from the border wall, you couldn't shut up about stopping a terrorist! Now here you are, playing house to your dad!" he said.

"You want me to become a pickpocket again?" she asked him.

"Of course not, but you're not seeing my point," he replied, "You're scared! You were never scared!"

"There's a mad man trying to start a race war. Why shouldn't I be scared?" she said. 

"Whenever you were scared, you always did something about it. You never ducked and covered, you loaded up a Nerf Gun and made it rain styrofoam! Now, you're letting oil burn in my house," he said, "Come on, Jen. What're you so scared of?"

Jenna huffed and took a seat at the table, "Remember when mom died, and I started acting out? I lost stability, you lost your pension! My only compensation was taking risks and dancing with danger. And then I met Jake, and things started getting better! I lost a piece of me and I gained another bit. And now I might lose it again," she felt stupid, but at the same time, she was scared. If she was going to lose Jake, then maybe distancing herself was the only way she'd be able to deal with it.

"And you think running away is going to numb the burn? I didn't instil that into you!" he said, "You're a Desmond. And Desmonds don't run from danger,"

A tear started to slide down Jenna's cheek, "Well, maybe running away is easier then facing it head on," she replied. 

Peter sighed and wheeled himself around the table, "I've had chats like this before with your mom. Nights where she was scared I wouldn't be home for dinner, nights when she figured it'd be easier to shut me out. But the one thing I always admired about her was that she trusted me to do my job. Sure, it got hard sometimes, but every morning when I went out, my one goal in mind was to come home to your mom," he put his hand over her shoulder, "And I'll bet this damn house that Jake has the same idea when he leaves the house," 

Jenna let out a shaky breath and nodded, wiping the tear from her eye, "I know he does, that's what scares me even more," she whimpered.

Her father rolled back, then glanced at the stove with the simmering oil. He turned off the stove and threw the garlic into the sink, "How about we order in tonight, instead? There's that new Korean BBQ place down the street, some of the best fried chicken on the block," he said. Jenna nodded, but she didn't smile.