Finding Finley ✔

8

My chest is tight and heavy, the invisible fist clutching tighter than it ever has before. 

"Son." He gives a tight lipped nod as a greeting and I feel sick at the fact he just called me son. Sick because not only has he done nothing to deserve the right to call me his son, but because I know he's only calling me that because he has which of his sons I am. 

Standing in the doorway facing him, I'm having flashbacks to the night I sat on his couch two years ago, so sure that he was going to apologize to my brother and I for walking out on us and finally give us an explanation for why he left . He didn't apologize or explain though, instead he told Kit and I that we were "the same thing". 

"Is Katherine here?" He's still looking at me, emotionless, like I'm just another person to him. The tightness is insufferable. 

I can hear someone coming up behind me, then a hand on my shoulder - Kit. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

"I need to speak to your mother." There's still emotion is in his voice, he doesn't seem to care that his two sons are standing before him. Why would he though?

Kit moves in front of me so that he is blocking our dad from my view, "You have nothing to say to her." He closes the door, not letting the man on the other side get in another word. 

He turns to me, mouth opening to ask if I'm okay or to ask what our estranged father is doing at the house he abandoned a lifetime ago, but before he can speak our mom appears in the entryway. "Who was it?" 

There's a knock at the door and Kit and I share a look, neither of us saying anything or making a move to open the door. Mom looks between the two of us as we stand there, making no move, and just as there is another knock on the door, she pushes pass us and reaches for the doorknob.

"Fletcher?" She doesn't sound hurt or angry like Kit and I, she just sounds confused. Understandable, all things considered. 

"We need to talk Katie."

"What could we possibly have to talk about?" This time there is a small trace of anger in her voice. 

He looks over her shoulder at Kit and I, almost as if he doesn't want to have the conversation in front of us. When we all three continue to stand in the doorway staring at him, he sighs and looks back at her, "I'm getting married, and I need you to sign divorce papers." 

How can the weight on my chest possibly be getting heavier? 

Our dad left in the middle of the night when Kit and I were four years old. Our mom hasn't seen or heard from him since. When Kit and I visited him two years ago, we told her a few months later but she had no interest in seeing him for herself. Just like us, our mom is done with our dad. I guess when I think about it, it makes since that they're still married since she didn't know where he was and hadn't had any contact with him. 

I'm not paying any attention to what was being said anymore, but I tune back in just as he looks at Kit and says, "Finley, I know our last encounter wasn't a good one, but I'd like to try again. You have a three year old brother you don't even know, and just because Kit made it clear he isn't interested in getting reacquainted with me, that doesn't mean you and I can't start over."

I back away. 

This is was all too much, it's everything I've spent so much time trying to forget and get over. I need to run, running has always been my therapy. 

 I calmly walked back through the house and out the door. When I get to the backyard I take off running through the gate and across the street, my feet moving without me even thinking about it - I just keep going with no destination in mind until I reach the tree that Kit and I used to climb when we were little. The tree is a few block from the house, so I didn't go too far, but it's easier to breathe here - where I'm not so close to everything.