Chapter 6
T oday is my first day off since I moved back in with my parents. Dad was out the door before I woke up, but he should be coming back home early today. I hope things aren’t awkward between us considering we haven’t really talked much since I’ve been back.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to the grocery store?” Mama asks me for the third time today.
I spin around on the bar stool with a mouthful of cinnamon rolls, chewing thoroughly before responding. “I want to eat these while they are still fresh. Plus, a little alone time might be good for me.”
“Fine, I won’t be long, anyway.” She grabs her keys and blows me a kiss before heading out.
Mama and I have always been trying new recipes to bake ever since I was old enough to talk. Nothing has ever tasted better than homemade cinnamon rolls to me, though. I lose count of how many I eat before I’m stuffed and satisfied. With my free time, I rearrange my room and then lay outside on our egg-shaped lounge chair on the wide balcony.
At least an hour passes and I’m still home alone, bored out of my mind. My brain starts to think about different hobbies I can pick up to pass the time while I make myself a quick snack. After I started dating Duke, I admit my life got extremely dull in a matter of weeks. That is going to change; I am not a dull person and I refuse to allow anyone else to tone down my personality.
There is so much I can do and learn if I only apply myself. And there has to be some sort of skill that calls to my soul, one that I fall in love with and share with the world.
The real question is, what is it ?
As I leave the kitchen, my steps falter. Passing that big, brown door always sends a wave of nostalgia through me. The last time I went in there was over two years ago. Standing in front of the door as the moments pass, I think to myself, fuck it, why don’t I just go in there? I loved spending my days in there when I was growing up. Mustering up all the courage I need to push through the door, I finally walk in.
It looks exactly the same as I last remembered. This is my dad’s office space, or den, as he likes to call it. The room is spacious with three of the four walls lined with oak bookshelves, filled with all the books the three of us have collected over the years. I walk across the room and open the blinds to let the natural sunlight illuminate the room.
Dad’s desk is a mess of paperwork—as always. The red loveseat is still in the same corner it has always been, in direct line of sunlight, the best spot to settle in with some snacks, a drink, and a good book.
Sadly, I don’t remember the last time I sat down and read a good book. I used to love getting lost in the pages for hours, emerging myself into the world I was reading about. That’s what I’ll do today. I have plenty of books to choose from here. What better hobby to have than reading?
If I’m going to be a slut for anyone, it’ll be for one of my book boyfriends. They have never let me down and they never will.
One big book behind the normal lineup catches my eye on one of the corner shelves, it almost looks like it’s hiding. After pulling it out, I realize it’s not a book, but an old photo album.
There aren’t many pictures inside, but it’s clear that these aren’t my parents in any of the photographs. There is only a young couple with a baby that I see repeatedly. If this is an aunt or uncle of mine, I’ve never heard of them.
Weird.
The closer I look at the pictures, the tighter my chest feels. I don’t have many pictures from my childhood and I don’t have any of me as a baby, nor do I have any close relatives with children. But this baby has to be related to me, somehow.
Those are my eyes. The same ones my father has and, upon closer inspection, the same ones the woman in the picture has.
This woman seems oddly familiar to me, and not only because she looks eerily similar to my dad. I know I have seen her somewhere. Still, I can’t place from where or who she is.
We don’t have any close family. Not that I know of, at least. Yet I feel such a strong connection to this picture. I can’t explain it.
Is there a secret relationship or family member they never told me about? It might explain all those times they acted shady.
Do I have a secret sister? Or maybe a cousin they have been hiding from me?
Once the fog lifts from my mind, I’m even more confused than I thought possible. Questions are running a marathon in my head and I need answers, but no one is home yet. In an attempt to calm my erratic mind, I take the album with me to my room and jump in the shower, hoping that by the time I get out both my parents will be home.
As luck would have it, I hear the familiar chatter of my parents out in the main area when I get out of the shower. I get dressed quickly and grab the photo album, tucking it behind me as I walk out. My steps are slow as I figure out the best way to approach the situation.
“Hey, can I talk to both of you?”
Both heads turn my way and I must look or sound serious, because they both look concerned after taking me in.
“Sure, is everything okay?” Mama asks.
No matter how many circles I run around in my head, there doesn’t seem to be an easy way to say it, so I decide to rip the Band-Aid off. Laying the album open to the page with the most pictures on the counter, I turn to them and ask, “Who are these people? I’ve never met any of them and I don’t remember you guys ever mentioning them, either.”
They both look like they’ve seen a ghost, not saying a peep or moving a muscle. My heart picks up speed at their reaction. I don’t like it.
“I’ve seen this lady in my dreams before,” I push.
Surely it can’t be something too bad. Right?
My parents share a long, silent conversation with their eyes before speaking. “I think it’s time we talked about it, amor mio ,” my father says to my mother who has tears forming in her eyes.
This is not the reaction I was expecting from them. Mama has always been somewhat sensitive, but nothing is making sense right now. There is an obvious shift in the air, a prickling sensation shooting up my spine. My gut says something is wrong.
“Time you talked about what?”
They share a look again, but my dad won’t meet my eyes. He stares at the picture for a minute longer, emotions I’ve never seen him show running wildly through his eyes.
“Come with me, mi amor . There’s a lot to explain,” Mama says softly as she takes my hand and leads me to the couch in the living room where I’m sandwiched between the two of them.
I am incensed the whole bike ride over the bridge. I don’t have a plan, but the rage burning in my veins will not cool down unless I do something. My father’s words are playing on a loop in my head, making me see nothing but red. I don’t know what game Kylo has been playing at, but I won’t rest until he and his family are six feet under.
Somehow, the universe wants to piss me off even more and throws me in a traffic jam. It’s so packed on this street that I can hardly weave in between the cars. When a narrow street comes into view, I swerve down the lane for a detour, picking up speed.
The sky looks as ugly as my emotions feel.
It’s true what they say; speak of the devil and he will appear. I hate that I can spot him from a mile away, although this time I think it worked in my favor. Just the person I was looking for. He’s standing outside of a bar talking to some other guy. I turn in that direction and park my bike without turning it off. Whipping my helmet off, I zero in on Kylo and rush towards him, shoving him with all my force.
“What’s the matter, upset that you got in trouble at your little job?” He chides as soon as he sees me.
“I don’t care about that stupid job, you vile son of a bitch.”
I’m seething. If we were in a cartoon, there would definitely be smoke blowing out of my ears right now.
“If you are going to talk to me, fix your attitude or I’ll fix it for you,” he says with a hint of amusement.
Clenching and unclenching my fists is the only thing preventing me from boiling over with the amount of hatred I have for this man. “I know everything,” I yell out.
“What are you talking about?”
The conversation I just had with my parents only gets louder in my head, as if they were repeating the words directly to my ear. Heat creeps up my face and I squeeze my jaw shut tight in order to regain some of my composure.
“I will kill all of you. Believe that, Kylo,” I say through gritted teeth. I’m vibrating from the inside out.
“Good luck with that, sweetheart. This is my city.”
That’s it. That is all it takes for me to direct all my energy into punching him right in the jaw, scratching my knuckles on his stubble. Without letting him get the chance to react, I knee him between his legs and rush to my bike, taking off without another glance.
Catch me if you can.
Was it smart? Not at all.
Do I regret it? Not. At. All.