Who is she?

Chapter Seven - Her Dad

Ericka's hazel eyes scanned the room as she entered, searching for the only person she wanted to meet. Involuntarily, she tip-toed to the study table seated in front of the door and peeked over the table to look.

"Hey Ri," a tired sound came from behind the bookshelf on the right. She could feel her legs shaking. Slowly, she walked over to the connecting room behind the contemporary-styled designer in-built bookshelf. 

Looking at the man in his 50's with a well-groomed beard, bent over a bean bag searching for something casually, she replied softly, "Hey Dad."

The man continued his search without looking up at her face. To calm herself, she tried to initiate a conversation. "Long time since we got time to talk to each other, isn't it?" Wow, did I make it more awkward? Mental face-palm. "Indeed, it is. Also, you won't come here just for having a chit-chat, would you? So say what you want to say," he said while straightening his back and sitting on the same soft and furry bean bag while forcing a smile all along.

Despite frowning at this father-daughter relationship and how it became like that, she forced a smile and sat on the couch nearby. The softness of the sofa eased her nervousness and relaxed her. "I saw mom's picture," Ericka took a deep breath and said. She expected some abrupt reaction, but her dad was calm and smiled again. 

"On the cake?" He asked.

"Yes. How did you know about that?"

"Because I asked Mr. Smith to make that maybe?"

Oh, that's why Mr. Smith said 'not this time.'

"I received a letter from my mom's brother - the one from India."

"Oh, on time." His smile wavered a bit while he took a deep breath. "So that's what you're here for." He relaxed, knowing the reason she was sitting with him. The last time they had a conversation like this was when she decided on her high school. He loved her so much, but he couldn't show anything. That was frustrating initially for him, but now he had come to terms with this past. This is what is right for her. Although his heart would still ache every time he saw her. Our child has grown so mature without any parent. Funny, isn't it?

"So you know what I'm here for?" Ericka asked, amidst his thinking. Her dad closed his eyes to prevent it from welling up.

"Well, not exactly. But I know what you might want to ask."

"What happened when I was five?"

"Your mom?" His voice was laced with hurt.

"Apart from that. Why did you distance yourself from me? Why did you hide all of mom's memories from me? Why wasn't I allowed to attend her funeral?" The last question almost came as a whisper, but he heard her.

"There are things that you have to do. Believe it or not, that was best for you. Did your so-called nightmares start again?"

"You know about them?" He chuckled. "Obviously?"

"How do you know they came back?"

"Because they are not nightmares."

A moment of silence prevailed while she tried to comprehend what her dad was trying to say.

"What do you mean?"

"You'll understand soon. I don't think I'm qualified to answer that. But remember not to be afraid of them; they are kind of a gateway." He tried his best at explaining.

"Okayyy, you are scaring me more, though," Ericka commented, to which he genuinely smiled. It's been ages that I saw him smiling. "And..."

"Yes? Continue."