Requisites Of Life

Chapter 7

Cooper

After Amelia left for dinner, and mom was just getting off of work, I was left alone with my thoughts. One thing kept coming into my head after the encounter of messages Amelia has shared with me: my dad. I wasn't counting on him to message me any time soon, that would just leave me disappointed. But what would happen if he did? What would happen if I did? 

I knew it would only make me upset--it did every time--but I once again found myself logging onto Facebook, clicking on the search bar, and looking up Garry Thompson. I clicked on the profile with a picture of three people I didn't know, and one I barely did.

I was seven years old the last time I was him. One would think that 10 years is long enough to forget someone's face, but the mind has a habit of remembering the things that hurt you most. Meaningless images of trips to the park, getting ice cream on those cool fudge-dipped waffle cones, picking out a science kit at natural history museums, all became fuzzy dream-like pictures in my mind. But some things never left. The various fights that happened before he left, him explaining to me that things weren't working out for him here as he stuffed socks into a suitcase, the bone-chilling way that he gently shut the door like he was just leaving for work--like he'd be back, always stay polished in my head like it happened the other week. 

The screen loaded, and I saw some of the new pictures of he added since I was last on his page. His cover photo is the same as it was a few months ago, but he changed his profile since. I clicked on it, and it enlarged itself on the screen. In the picture was him, his wife, and their son and daughter. The little girl looked about 4 or 5 years old in that picture, and I know from a comment on a different photo that the boy is now around 7 or 8 years old. In the photo, they were at a pumpkin patch, each either holding a pumpkin in their arms, or standing next to one. They were all smiling. 

I went into his photos and clicked on another recent one. This time, they were in a park, the grass still green from the warmer time of august it was taken in. Dad was pitching an underhand softball to the young boy, who stood ready in stance to strike the ball with his bat. The boy was squinting his eyes, his tongue sticking out a little with concentration. A proud smile was on dad's face. 

I reached my hand up to the screen, barely brushing it with my finger tips. I brought them up to my dad's face, and the corners of my mouth twitched up. But they quickly feel from the screen, and the image itself grew blurry with the tears that began surfacing. 

I was still smiling, a shaky smile, but a smile all the same. I was smiling because my dad is happy; he has a family that he loves and loves him back. I was crying because I'm not in that family; I was looking at something I never got, something I would never have no matter how hard I longed for it. 

I was crying because this kid, this little boy in a photo, has had my dad in his life longer than I ever did. I clicked the next button, shoulders shaking a little, and another photo popped up, and then another, and then another. I swallowed back a sob. 

It's not right to cry because I'm jealous. He loves him more than me, he loves this family more than me, and I should've gotten over that by now. 

But the truth is, I never could get over it. I feel there's still a kid deep inside myself still sitting and waiting at the front door for daddy to get home. It's a subtle and benign part of me, but still significant, nonetheless. 

I clicked out of the photos and went back to his profile, just staring at it for a moment while I gathered my thoughts. I moved the mouse back and forth across the screen, aimlessly moving it as I fell into thought. Finally, I took a deep breath, refocused my vision, and hovered my mouse over the message button before clicking it. A blank messaging box popped up on the bottom of the screen. I blinked a little, taking in fully what I was about to do. I cracked my knuckles, let in and out a deep breath, and rested my hands on the keyboard. And then I froze. 

What do you say to someone who you haven't spoken to since they left your life a decade ago? 

I wanted to type some long, heartfelt paragraph. Perhaps I would describe what's been happening in my life ever since he left. Perhaps I'd tell him how difficult it's been growing up most of my life without a father. Or maybe I'd ask why he never came to visit, or even called once. Ultimately, I decided to go with hello. 

As soon as I pressed enter, I heard the breaks on mom's car in the driveway. So in one swiping motion, I sent a friend request (in case he never checked his message requests), logged out of Facebook, and got off of the computer with just enough time to make it to the couch and turn the TV on before she got through the door. 

She didn't suspect a thing.

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Hey guys! How've you been? Thanks again for reading. 

What were your thoughts on this chapter? Didn't it just break your heart to think of Cooper so heartbroken? 

What do you think will happen next? 

Shout out to @lallyalley12 for actually guessing that I'd be bringing up Cooper's dad. 

Love ya <3