The Mute Girl's Tutor

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It was hardly six in the morning when my father woke me up. It was a foreign experience, the soft knock on my door before the deep brooding voice of my father sounded.

"Time to get up kiddo. I think I made breakfast." Think? I cracked my eyes open and only then registered the burning smell scorching my nostrils. Throwing off my blankets in a hurry I stumbled down the stairs pushing past my father to see a thin grey black fog in the kitchen and browning scrambled eggs on the stove.

"Dad!" I screeched feeling my voice strain, forcing sleep from my body and turning off the stove immediately bringing the pan outside dumping the contents off the deck. Poor Peter, our gardener would want an explanation later.

"I don't know what happened! One moment they were nice and the next they were burning." My father grumbled crossing his arms and rolling his eyes at the stove moaning about how he specializes in planes not kitchens. I bit my lip to keep in my smile and placed the ruined pan on the stove to cool off so I could throw it out later.

"How about I make some pancakes instead?" I asked already reaching for the sink to get the buttermilk.

"You know how to make pancakes?" He questioned sitting at the island and cuffing his navy blue button up to his elbows.

"I can cook a lot of things." I murmured measuring out the sugar and flour. Even though I wasn't looking I knew he was staring at me with the same eyes my brother had.

"We need to talk about my absence." No beating around the bush then. Did I really expect less though? But then I heard the hitch in his breath and I knew his business resolve was crumbling. I'm his daughter not a rival pilot.

"Anna..." I dropped the measuring cup into the bowl of dry ingredients and gripped the counter. "Ever since Miranda dying, and Roman leaving... I'm all you have left. And I'm sorry I haven't been worthy of being your father these past few years."

I couldn't turn around. From the old memories slamming against my brain and the apology I've always wanted just dangling in the air in front of me, I felt smothered. My chest heaved and I bite back the sob in my throat picking up the measuring cup with shaky hands to continue. This was too much, too early, too hard.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I broke. I pushed the bowl away from me probably getting flour everywhere and hugged my father. He didn't move for a moment but circled his arms around my middle and let me cry into his chest.

"I'm sorry Anneliese." He mumbled with a strained voice, petting my hair and rubbing my back. I tried to contain my sobs but this was everything I ever wanted. Everything I was positive I needed to move on. When I lost my mom, I lost my dad as well. And then my brother left soon after, abandoning me to the confines of the four walls in this house. The four walls of my mind. My voice left hardly days after, words no longer necessary. No one to talk to, no one willing to listen.

It's okay craved to come from my lips, was tap dancing on the tip of my tongue but another cry left my mouth instead.

I could tell he was already getting uncomfortable, probably hadn't held substantial physical contact with someone for so long in years. Pulling away I wiped at my most definitely blotchy face and red rimmed eyes, trying to find it in myself to not be embarrassed. His button up was wet from left shoulder to the center of his chest, evidence of our pain. It looked like he had a tear in his eye as well but I knew to ignore it when he cleared his throat and patted my head.

"You don't have to go to school today. I'll probably be in my office most of the day prepping for Louisiana so feel free to go back to bed." He mumbled refusing to let the awkward mixed feelings of our reunion keep him from looking into my eyes. My mother's eyes.