Misfortunate Molly: Would Heartbreak, Break You?

Chapter 8 Recall

I knock lightly on my dad's office door. I can hear muffled voices. I admit I was a little nervous as I walked down the hallway. Just the idea of speaking to law enforcement unnerves me. Dre opens the door and I walk in. I realize at that moment how much smaller I am than him.

I have always loved this office. It is like something from a movie. Although we "renovated" it a while back, not much was changed. High ceilings, bookshelves line that the walls dad's wooden desk sits in front of huge windows looking out to the mini forest surrounding our house. He has his business certificates and awards hung on random spots of the walls where there is no shelving. There are a few pictures of us scattered about the walls and on his desk. His laptop, some folders, a couple newspapers, a cup with pens in it, and a stapler are on the top of his desk in a partially neat manner. There are two sofa type chairs on this side of his desk and a table in between with a few business magazines on it. It smells like his cologne, books, and oiled wood all mixed together. I love how his books are not in any order. The randomness of the heights, widths, colors, soft and hard covers, makes me smile. Art not meant to be artistic. I like it.

My dad is sitting behind his desk in his swivel chair. I remember spinning in that chair until I could not hold my head upright. I would slide out of the chair and stumble around the room until balance found me again. Me and my friends and cousins would do it for hours. He would come in and laugh at us and tell us not to hit our heads on anything and walk back out of the room, leaving us to continueour fun. My daddy always allowed me to be a kid. He never yelled at me for jumping on the bed, he would say, "Let's see how high you can get." When I would climb a tree, it was never, "Get down you will hurt yourself," like other parents or my mother. It was, "Watch your foot so you won't slip. Make sure you are holding on tight." My dad wanted me to experience everything that life has to offer. Never to be afraid.

"How was lunch?" My dad smiles at me. Looking happier now that I ate.

"It was very good, thank you."

"Good. I'll leave you two alone." He is referring to Officer Klarely and me. He gets up from his chair and heads to the door, signaling Dre to go with him. He pauses at the door, "Unless you want me to stay?" Statement and question at once.

"No. It's okay." I would like him to stay just in case but I am a big girl. I can handle a few questions. My dad nods as he follows Dre out and closes the door behind him. "Ok. Shall we get started?" I ask the officer. I point to the chairs as if I am in a business meeting.

"Okay." She simply says and walks over to the chairs and sits opposite of me.

"What do you want to know?" I ask somewhat intimidated, trying not to show my nerves and anxiety.

"No need to be so nervous. Try and relax. You will do fine." She reaches over and taps my knee trying to assure me and sits back up. She takes out a little orange lined paper notebook and a pen from her pocket. I thought that only happened in movies. I have never been spoken to by cops before.

"Okay. I'll try... I have never been talked to by authorities before. It's kind of unnerving." I twitch a little bringing my head to my shoulder in a fast movement. "And a little intimidating," I spew as my nerves fly out of my mouth.

"Please relax. You are not in any trouble." She giggles a little and smiles. She flips through the pages and finds a blank page. The pen clicks. "Some of the questions are going to feel unnerving or unnecessary to you. Even invading but please don't take any of this personally. They are mandatory. It's like a script I have to follow," she tells me.

"I will do my best," I say. And here comes the anxiety full on. I am trying to mask it but I am probably failing miserably. My knee is bouncing and I'm picking at the dry cuticles on my fingers.