Grayscale

Chapter Seven

        As I was walking home that night, my head was up in the clouds. I was overjoyed at the prospect of my temporary forever. Reed was such a sweet kid. He was funny and had a great smile. And I loved the way he could keep a grin on his face despite all the awful shit he was going through, trying to learn how to live without his soulmate again.

        Between this and my artistic mind stopping me at every turn to get yet another picture of the snow I didn't need, it was no wonder I didn't notice the car sitting in front of my house until I was crossing the street. But when I did, I totally stopped in my tracks.

        No . . . it can't be.

        My dad was home, after six months off doing whatever he did as a Navy SEAL. After six months away from home, missing milestones, like he always did. After six months of leaving my mom and I to listen to Jackson talk about basketball relentlessly. After six months of just being completely absent from my life. I hadn't even gotten a phone call the whole time he was away. He claimed he didn't have the time to talk to anyone but my mom - that she used up all of his time. I just didn't think he really wanted much to do with us kids. We were my mom's dream - not his. He was out living his dream all the time, all over the world. That was what he did.

        I'm not saying I didn't appreciate what he did, that I didn't think it was a great thing. It was. But sometimes I wondered if he had a job closer to home that we wouldn't be such a burden on him, that maybe he could have learned to love us the way Mom did. He wouldn't have missed milestones like me learning to talk and the first time Jackson walked on his own, me loosing my first tooth, mine and Jackson's first haircuts, the first time I fell and scraped my knee . . . the list goes on. But maybe if he had been there for all of that, we would be what he did, too. We would be part of his legacy. We wouldn't just be another bill he had to pay. We would be his favorite phone call at the end of the day. Instead of hanging up with Mom, he would ask her to pass the phone on, and I could tell him about the physics test I failed, and because he was a genius, he would be able to help me next time when I was struggling. Jackson could tell him about the high schoolers who gave him a rough time because he was better than all of them, and Dad would promise to fix things when he got home.

        But that wasn't how it was. We were just another bill as far as he was concerned. I mean, sure, he loved us. But only out of obligation, only because we were the biggest things in his soulmate's life. And sometimes, that really sucked. I wanted to come home and see the strange car in front of my house and be filled with excitement. But it was completely the opposite. I was filled with dread. Things were different when he was home, and not usually in a good way. Mom was happier, yeah, but he used the few short weeks he got between assignments to punish us for everything Mom didn't or refused to.

        Like me cursing at her earlier in the day. Oh, damn. I was in for an earful. And my dad was a Navy SEAL. It wasn't like I could just sneak past him. I could come home at three this morning, and if he wasn't still awake, he would hear the door creak just a tiny bit as I pushed it open as quietly as I possibly could, and he would bolt out of bed, ready to lay down the law. My dad was impossible to get by.

        Shit. I would have to face this one head on.

        I trudged across the street, head hanging down. Maybe if I walked into the house looking pitiful and sorry for my actions, he would take a little mercy on me. Maybe. After pushing the door open gently, I crept into the dark living room. So far, so good. I was still alive at least. When I shut the door behind me, though, and it sealed with a shooop, there he was.

        My dad was just over five and a half feet tall, at a whopping 5' 8". But that was the only thing about his appearance that wasn't totally terrifying. He probably weighed about two hundred and twenty pounds, and all of it was muscle. I don't think any of that was even bone or anything. My dad was a perfect model of what happens when you wake up and have a protein shake for breakfast before you spend three hours doing pull ups and one-arm push-ups, only to break for lunch and then get back at it. I had yet to meet a man more stacked than my father. Intimidating was an understatement.