Until I Come Again

Chapter Eight | Backstory

I think some backstory is required. 

My mom left when I was 15 to be with my dad's best friend. They ran off to Alaska or something and began a whole new life there. Or at least that's what I think. I hadn't spoken to her since she left and I never intended to. 

The fact that she left was a low blow but my brother and I handled it pretty well. My dad, on the other hand, did not. 

He was absolutely devastated. I always thought it was more over the loss and betrayal of his best friend rather than his wife. 

My parents never had a great relationship. 

Not a bad one. Just a distant one. They barely talked and they seemed to be content to not say anything to each other for days and go about their separate lives. 

It was no surprise that my dad did not have a typical job. And by atypical, that means he was a drug dealer. 

Not a massive, crazy one, he only dealt weed which should've been legal anyway in Florida so it was never a big deal. 

However, once my mom left he got a little desperate and lost his edge. He would deal with the wrong people or not be truly aware of the deals he was making. 

My brother tried to handle his schedule and keep him on track with the right customers but my brother couldn't be there all the time. 

Anyway, long story short, my dad dealt with the wrong people and ended up getting caught by the police. 

He had a trial and everything but the case was pretty obvious. No one could testify that he wasn't dealing marijuana. It's not like it was a huge secret. 

He got sentenced to ten years in prison with chance of parole in two years. 

That was two years ago. 

And it seems like my worst fear was coming into affect. 

I liked to think I had a good reason to be angry at my dad. Even though my brother and I were already of age and in college by the time my dad was sentenced, it never bods well to have your only parental figure left in prison. 

It was almost as if my dad being sentenced was the final tipping point. The moment I realized I wanted nothing to do with my crazy family that was falling apart anyway. 

It didn't help that my brother seemed dead-set on staying in my life no matter how far away I tried to get. 

Therefore, I hadn't spoken to my dad in over two years and as the phone ringed my heart hammered so badly that I almost hung up. 

"Hello?"

My breath caught. I was lost for words hearing the familiar voice that angered me so much yet I still felt emotional hearing. 

"Hello?" he repeated. 

"H-hi," I stammered, suddenly unsure of myself. "It's um it's Toni."

There was silence. 

"My Toni?"

I nodded then realizing my mistake said, "Yeah. The very one."

"So I guess you heard about parole?"

I was relived that he already assumed my reason for calling. 

"Um not really. Mylo called but I just assumed."

"Well, it''s true. My trial is in a month and my lawyers say there's a good chance I'll get parole," he sounded excited but tired. 

"That-that's great," I suddenly couldn't remember why I decided to call him instead of just calling Mylo. I silently scolded myself.