73 Memories

The Twenty-Sixth Memory

When we woke up the next morning, I got dressed while you waited downstairs. We eventually made our way over to your house, and then when your mom was done talking to you and me, I came back home.

My father, the man who didn't remember my birthday, was sitting in the front room, waiting for me when I got home.

"He knows."

I immediately froze, not used to hearing his voice. Despite the simplicity of the sentence, I knew exactly what he was talking about, but I decided to play dumb as I sat down across from him. "He knows what?"

"I'm not in the mood for games, young lady. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

This made me mad. He'd been absent in my life for over a year, and he wanted me to just fall to the ground and kiss his feet?

No. "He knows a lot of stuff you don't know, Dad. He knows when my birthday is, he knows what my favorite color is. He knows my favorite movie, and what my room looks like. He knows a whole lot more than you do, that's for sure."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he growled, and I rolled my eyes.

"It means that this is the first time you've actually talked to me in one year and three months, dad. You didn't even wish me a happy birthday," my voice came out strong in the beginning but faded to a whimper at the end. "You don't know me anymore. I'm not sure if you are my Dad."

I watched him flinch, but he denied nothing of what I said. "Don't turn this on me. I've seen you with him! I can tell by the way he looks at you. He knows everything! You told him about her."

"Yeah, I did! What else was I supposed to do? Bottle everything up until I couldn't do it anymore and then what? Kill myself, and then rot in my room because you wouldn't even know I was gone. You'd only find out once you could smell me."

Again, he denied nothing. "That has nothing to do with this! I did a whole lot to get us here, to allow us to be free from the name she put on our family! But now he knows, and he'll tell everyone everything. Everything!"

"No, he won't!" I breathed deeply, trying to calm myself. "What's the point of this?"

"The point of this is to show you cause and effect. Cause- you told someone about us. Effect- we're moving."

I stopped breathing as he said that word. Moving. My left hand found its way to the ring on my right hand. "No," I whispered, but I knew that if my father said we were moving, then we were.

"I hope you like the cold, Amelia. I hear Minnesota is freezing."

And then he was gone.

As I stood alone in the living room, a few tears left my eyes as I spoke to myself. "My name isn't Amelia."

And then I walked across the street, knowing I needed to tell you all of this before I was fully functioning- before I'd talk myself out of telling you until the day I was leaving.