Life in Search ✔️

55 ~ Happy

Everything's gonna be okay

Reading Scarlett's message I can't help but feel confused. Last night I witnessed a full-blown meltdown and today she's insistent everything is okay. Maybe she did snap last night. I'm all for optimism but I heard how poor the odds of success were, that downfall won't be healthy.

"Ashton." Dad knocks on the door, a white envelope in hand. 

Groaning, I fall onto my bed. "Make them stop. I'm never going to read one." All those stupid letters do is ruin my mood and after this week I didn't even think it was possible to be more pissed off. One look at that and I'm proven wrong.

I don't care about what my father has to say. I don't care if that letter is his final dying words, I hope he rots in hell.

Dad grimaces, shoving the letter in his pocket. "I know, but it's my job to make sure you at least know."

No secrets.

He stands there for a second before awkwardly resting on the edge of my bed. "You seem to be in somewhat better spirits."

"I am." Until I saw that freaking letter.

"Would the time you came home last night have anything to do with that?"

It wasn't even that late. "Yeah, I saw Scarlett."

"Did you two... talk?" He tries to readjust himself before settling on the same position.

"If by talk you mean me following her through town before accidentally ending up at her parents' grave site. Listen to her basically have a breakdown and get caught. Then, yeah, we talked." I offer nonchalantly.

Looking back, I'm surprised no one called the cops on me.

He just stares at me, "Wow... that's umm... that's..."

"Embarrassing. Awkward. Humiliating."

Dad begins to laugh, "Completely mortifying."

The laughter grows and I can't help but join in. It was the first time something like that's ever happened but honestly, I don't mind. As we calm down, I shrug. "No, we talked after and everything is okay now." More than okay, actually. "Just took me being a complete idiot to make it happen."

Dad shakes his head fondly, "I've had far too many interactions like that.''

I wait for him to continue and just when I think he's about to leave, he leans back against the headboard.

"You probably don't remember this but after I met your mother, I began to do check-ins every few days since you lived in a rougher area." I nod, vaguely remembering some of his visits. "Well, maybe three months into this ritual, you were so sick your mom had just barely opened the door to greet me. You ran to the door and ended up getting sick from trying to be so active. Your poor mom was obviously headed down the same path you were, so I decided to help."

It takes a moment, but I remember that day. I also vaguely remember police cars showing up later on. "What did you do?"

He grimaces, "Well, obviously I was rather fond of your mom, so I decided to make some of Abuela's homemade chicken noddle soup and pick up some more medicine. She had mentioned almost being out of it."

"You brought me a match box car too." I recall, I think it's one of my drawers.

He nods, "And flowers for your mom. But as soon as I got to the house, I chickened out. I couldn't go up to the door and explain the reason for me being there. I don't do well with explaining myself."