When I finally got to the house, my father was putting a suitcase in the car when he saw me.
"Hey you're early," My dad said, his same blue eyes shining.
"Felt like I had to be early to help my old man", I said as I walk over and take the suitcase my dad was carrying.
"How was school", My dad asked
"Great, actually", I said acting like I have never heard my own voice.
"Great", Dad said mimicking the awkwardness. I can see him looking for a way to not find my mother in me. My mother died when I was about three. Since then, it has been just me and my dad. He saw me looking and he just looked down saying "If your mother saw how wonderful her son has gotten, she would be so proud
Shall we get on the road", my dad says trying to change the subject.
"Yeah, sure". I said. I never really touched on the subject of my mother's death because it triggers something in my dad. Yet he still finds a way to talk about her.
The way to the airport felt long, even though it was about 20 minutes. I was looking out the window looking at all the small businesses we had here. There's the old dress place that is abandoned. A flower place that is popping on Valentine's Day. The skaters dream place. But then there's my dad's store, a music store. Music has been in my family for years. But music is what killed my mother.
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RomanceAdrian Dull was your stereotypical sixteen year old teenage heartthrob. Blue eyed Blonde, football player. Yet still can't find that piece of his heart to make him full. But when he goes to The Netherlands he finds this girl that made him whole. He...
