sharkbait \\ h.s

3

It been a week since I arrived in San Fransisco for my first visitation with my father in three years, and already I feel like going home.

San Fransisco is not my kind of city, I guess, and it is getting really hard to be here. Every time I leave the house and get a whiff of the atmosphere, I am reminded of that horrible day on my dad's boat in Los Angeles, and even though the cities are hours apart, the beach sand is too similar and the air smells the same.

My dad doesn't make it any easier. Every day I go downstairs and face him-- or what's left of him that is. It almost seems as if his hand wasn't the only thing that was taken by that shark; the man has had dreams of being a drummer for his band that he was with since high school, as crazy as it seems for a thirty-seven year old to be a drummer, and that dream was torn away with the flesh and bone of his hand.

Maybe I thought I've gotten over it, but who really gets over practically being eaten by a vicious marine animal? My entire right arm was ripped off, along with my happiness and self-esteem, and here I am, thinking I've accepted that.

That alone is reason enough for me to go back to Rocklin and stay encaged within my aunt's home for the rest of my life.

That alone is why I'm stood in my childhood room with hot tears on my cheeks and my one and only suitcase I'd packed for this trip, ready to hop on a plane and never come back.

My dad steps into my room. "Hey, C- what are you doing?" His eyes widen.

"Leaving." I sniff.

"Lea- what? Why? Leaving? Why?"

I've been crying for a while now, and my eyes are beginning to sting, but as hard as I try, the tears just won't stop coming. "I want to leave. So I am leaving. Goodbye, Dad," I say as I try to leave my room. His frame is blocking the door way.

"Cali," he says. He looks hurt. "Not now. I can handle that you are an adult and you may leave when you please, just... please, not right now. He's begging me, but the way he's speaking makes it seem as if he is hiding something.

"Everything okay in here?"

I look up at the same time my dad does, but he doesn't seem as shocked as I must when I see who is standing in my bedroom doorway.

What the fuck.

"I'm sorry," I scoff. "Did I miss something?"

My dad scratches his head, the way he does when he was trying to think of an excuse. "California, you know Harry," he says. Harry smiles uncomfortably.

"Alright, dad," --I pull the handle up from my suitcase-- "since you seem to be oh-so-freaking-happy with your new bestie over here," --I throw my hands in front of me and begin walking across the room-- "I'll just be on my way now."

I already pushed past Harry and was stepping out the front door before I can process what I'm doing. My name isn't called once, not a single time, which signaled to me that he isn't going to come after me.

If I were any normal person, I'd probably be up and about trying to find somewhere to stay, or maybe I wouldn't have left in the first place, but due to the fact that I stopped being normal long ago, I am say on the curb outside of my father's house, looking out onto the beach that is just ahead.

The creaking of the porch stairs is heard behind me, followed by footsteps, and then there is someone standing next to me.

"You alright?" Harry asks.

"Just fucking peachy, thanks," I snap.

He holds his hand out in front of my face. "Nothing a sandwich couldn't fix."

"What?"

"Come get lunch with me?"

"What?" I say again.

"Well, I guess dinner now, but still."

The large hand hangs in front of me, tempting me. Not wanting to say the same thing a third time, I stay silent, staring at his hand.

"You're making me feel really stupid, California."

I laugh. "Right, sorry. Sorry. Yeah, I'll get lunch slash dinner with you, Harry."

I put my hand into his, supporting me as I get up from the curb.

"Thanks, dude. You were scaring me for a second, there."

As we walk, I realize that I like that he called me "dude" and the way he never drops my hand even when we arrive at the sandwich shop.

-

i just realized how short my chapters are. whoops. i feel like they'll start getting longer as the story progresses but probably not.

some feedback on this story would be great... please comment and vote, even if your voting out of pity lol.

~mel :))