Blue (The Spectrum Series: #3)

Chapter Two

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The drive from Georgia to New York is the longest drive of my life. Longer than I'd really anticipated for. The entirety of the trip lasts fourteen hours. To pass the time, dad and I played car games like Eye Spy, the License Plate game, Would You Rather, and so much more, my brain can't even remember the rest. When we weren't quizzing each other and screaming lyrics from pop songs blasting on the radio, I was soaking in every minute I could of him. The man who had raised me against all odds.

He was there when my mother, incomplete and overwhelmed, left him with a one-year-old. On her first birthday. When a child especially need their mother, she got up, packed her bags, and moved to Hollywood. She whored herself around the big-shot celebrities, prowling for someone exciting enough to latch her claws into. Finding a very wealthy man, she staked her claim in the city of vanity surgeries and flashy cars. That incredulous, wretched woman. She broke my dad's heart. It's been eighteen years, and he hasn't been able to move on since.

But, despite all the heart ache and the struggle to keep food on the table and clothes on my back, he raised me with dignity and warm compassion. He attended all my recitals, even if it clashed with his working hours, bought me every ballet equipment I needed, threw me birthday parties, helped me with my homework – he did it all. And I thank him with every bit of my heart.

He has done so much for me; the only way I'll be able to truly say thank you is by dancing across Carnegie Hall because, by then, I would have made it. All with his help and support.

"Hey, are you crying over there?" Dad asks with a hint of laughter. He rubs my thigh soothingly, and I place my hand on top of his. He glances at me from the road.

"I was just thinking of how amazing you are," I admit in a shaky voice. I sniffle and swipe away lose tears. But then we pass the 'Welcome to New York' sign, and the tears build up even faster.

"Oh, honey. Don't cry. I did everything I could to see this day come true."

I cry some more.

He sighs heavily. "I'm not saying the right things, am I?"

I shake my head. "Even better things."

"Damn, I'm too good of a father." He snaps his fingers and looks at me with a haughty smile.

I chuckle at his silliness. "Promise to call. Often. Very often."

"Aren't I supposed to be the one asking that?"

"Dad."

"Fine, I'll make some time for you between working and eating takeout."

"No, no." I shake my head disapprovingly. "I've already set something up for you."

"Do I want to hear more?" he winces, scrunching up his face.

"A food company will be sending you healthy recipes for dinner every week, for the next few months."

His head dangerously whips to face me, eyes wide and jaw-slack. "Where'd you get the money to do that?"

"It's called working for five years, dad," I tease, giving him a 'Come on, dad' look. Which he rolls his eyes in response, then looks back onto the road.

"You shouldn't have spent money on me, when I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," he says, almost sounding disappointed in me. I'm just trying to help him out!

"It was worth it, to keep you fitting in those faded Levi jeans you love so dearly." I point at his jeans, and he clears his throat. I smile. "Plus, I still have some money to support myself while I'm at college. Meaning, do not give me anything. I'll be fine, just save for yourself. We have two more years until the house is paid off, don't blow it."