15. Heather
15
HEATHER
“ H ow is this possible?” I mutter to myself as I hear my dad’s car pulling back up in the driveway. “He’s been at work all fucking day long and I haven’t found anything. Who the hell is this Max? What’s this goddamn company?”
I thought that I would be out of here by now. That was the plan, anyway. I assumed that I would be on my way to being back under Landon’s protection, back in his arms, maybe even talking about running off into the sunset together, but I have nothing. I’m like a helpless teenager stuck in the house that I always hated with no answers whatsoever. This place has always been a prison to me because I was brought here on my seventeenth birthday to keep me away from Landon, and now that’s exactly what it’s doing for me again. Funny how things turn around and end up in exactly the same place, isn’t it?
Except it isn’t funny one bit and I’m getting increasingly pissed off with the idea that I’m just a kid once more.
“Keep it together,” I warn myself as I peek through the curtains to see Dad getting out of his car. “Don’t let him see you freaking out. Don’t let him know that you are going insane because of him. Act like everything is fine.”
I know that Dad wouldn’t have broken down to tell me his full story about my mother if he hadn’t totally convinced himself that he was doing the right thing. He wants me to know why he’s acting this way, going so full on, and it took that for him to do so. He’s kept that from me for so long, allowing me to believe that it was illness that got to her, so it’s massive that he told me.
I can’t let him worry that I’m going to end up the same as my mother. Somehow, I need to find a way to make this work.
“Hi, Dad.” I beam brightly as he walks in through the door. Maybe a little too brightly, but I don’t want to get bogged down in details and screw this all up. “I was just thinking about what to make for dinner. Is there anything you want?”
I gulp down the thick ball of emotion lodging in my throat. The last time I ate was at Landon’s house back when everything felt magical, like the whole world was going to work for us again. When will I stop living in that dream world? I’m clearly never going to be lucky enough to live in a world where I’m allowed to be happy. It won’t happen for me.
“I actually got takeout.” Dad looks a little shame-faced, and I wonder if he’s regretting his behavior today. Not that I can ever see him admitting that. He doesn’t like to accept that he might not always be right. “Chinese food. I hope that’s okay.”
“My favorite.” I’m actually a little bit touched that he remembers that. “Thank you, Dad. That’s awesome.”
I get all the plates and cutlery out and follow Dad into the living room. He didn’t used to like eating in front of the TV, insisting on the dining table instead, but I suppose now he wants to drown out any awkward silences between us.
“So, how was work today, Dad?” I ask him causally as he flickers the channel to some game show I know he loves. “Have things been busy? I know that you’re always busy, but you know.” My God, this is awkward. “Anything in particular.”
“The usual.” His face glowers, but I can’t quite work out what he’s thinking. “You know how it is. Work is always the same. Always got a lot of shit to contend with, never have enough staff to get things done, always fighting a losing battle. But I’ll win.”
“Sure, sure.” Really, I have no idea. I’ve never wanted to know too much about his work. “Okay, well that’s good. Better to be busy. I don’t think you would do so well sitting around all day long just waiting for something to happen.”
My God, I’m trying to give him a lot to get the conversation going, but I’m getting nothing back. Absolutely nothing at all. He’s barely even trying. How am I supposed to remain here in this prison if he won’t even chat with me? This reminds me of what Roger said about my dad being a bit of a cold-hearted asshole, and I can see what he means. I love my father, but he’s very hard work.
He has been through a lot, I try to remind myself. Think about how losing his wife must have felt. Try to imagine how it felt for him to find out that I had gone missing too. Try to imagine what his head must be like over all of this…
But that isn’t really something I can think about or understand, even though it kind of happened to me too. Sharon was my mother, but I still can’t get myself in a truly empathetic position. It’s just so much to consider. I guess it’s just good that I understand him now and I can work on treating him better because of it. I don’t need to be harsh anymore.
I guess what I can do is just wait for him to go to sleep then continue on with my search because I still need to find a way out of here. I can’t stick around in this jail cell until something explodes, which it eventually will. Plus, I want to know what’s going on with Bill Ross and his situation. I have to be sure that no one else is after me. I don’t want the rest of my existence to have to keep looking over my shoulder, just waiting for the worst to happen. I need to know I’m safe so that I can live.
Finally, Dad is sleeping. It seems like it’s taken forever for us to get to this place, but he’s crashed out at last which means it’s time for me to resume my search once more. Only this time, I’m taking a different tactic. I need to get his cellphone away from him and find the phone number which called him earlier today. Max’s number. That way, I’ll be able to speak to someone. It might not be Landon or even Max himself, but I can pass on the message that I need help, can’t I?
Sure, I feel guilty as hell as I tiptoe over to the chair where Dad has passed out in front of the TV because I know that no matter what I end up doing, I’ll make him feel bad, but I kinda need something to happen here. I can’t take this.
Sorry, Daddy, I think to myself as I slide his phone off the arm of the couch. I’m just doing what I think is right.
Of course, it seems that my mother was only doing what she thought was right too. She was only accepting lifts from her boss because she didn’t know what a creep he was until it was too late, but this is different, I just know it is.
I sneak into the kitchen before I scroll through the last calls. My heart pounds violently in my chest as I do so, and I can hardly get enough air into my lungs but I keep on going. I’m starting to get quite used to the adrenaline rush that comes with fear. It’s not a feeling I ever wanted to adjust to, but here I am, feeling it once more, nevertheless. When will my life ever be drama free?
“Ah!” I think this must be it. It’s a call that came in at about the right time and it’s one not stored in my dad’s contact list so it has to be, right? That makes a lot of sense to me. Unfortunately, it’s an office number and not a cellphone, but I’m going to give it a try, anyway. This is the best chance that I’ve had all day long and I won’t waste it. I sneak to the back of the house, hoping that my father won’t hear anything, and I hit the dial button so I can finally make my escape. “Fuck. Voicemail.”
I debate calling them back in the morning, but I don’t know if I’ll get a chance, so I quickly make the snap decision to leave a message. I don’t know when it will be heard or what will become of it, but I need to at least try whatever I can.
“Hello, Max… or Landon, I guess. This is Heather. Err, Heather Buchan. Lola Rose who you saved from Bill Ross… why am I telling you this? You know it. Anyway, right now, I’m at number eight on Fall Away street, at my father’s house, and I need help. Not that he’s doing anything wrong or whatever. I just… urgh, I need support.” I really should have planned out what I was going to say before it got to this point. Now, I’m making a right idiot out of myself. “Please, come and see me, someone. At least just to tell me what’s going on. Dad obviously thinks that I’m still in a lot of danger, but I need to know for myself. Thanks. Bye.”
I hang up the phone, sure that I’ve just complicated things so much more, and I delete the evidence off my father’s phone list. I’m sure there is probably a way that he could discover me making that call, but I want to make it as hard as I can.
“That isn’t enough,” I tell myself angrily. “I need more. I need to find out where this office is. It must be somewhere.”
I search for the number in my father’s phone, using the incognito Internet service, and much to my surprise, an address comes up. It isn’t immediately obvious what the business is unless it’s something you are specifically searching for or something you know, but since I’m aware of what I need to find, I write it down. Now, if I can get out of here, I have a place to go.
I might actually be able to see Landon again, which of course is a dream come freaking true. That’s all I want right now.
I sneak the cellphone back, glad not to be caught, and I take the snippet of paper up to my teenage bedroom with me to cling to. Right now, it’s the only link I have to the man I love, and it’s all I need. He might come to me or I might go to him. It doesn’t matter. All I need to worry about right now is going to sleep and dreaming of him to give me all the strength that I need to get through whatever tomorrow will bring. Every day is a mystery. It’s so weird. Not like my normal life.
My whole future is up in the air, though, in a way that I never thought it would be. Where am I going to go next? What will happen? Will I eventually go back to my writing job or will I search for something new? With Landon? On my own? With my father still be in my life or will he hate my guts? Every time I try to think of it, it all seems so abstract that I can’t make up my mind. My future isn’t a real concept at the moment, so I can’t plan it out. I don’t even know where to begin.
I suppose I’ll simply have to wait and see, hold on to hope that it’ll all be okay.