31. Harper
THIRTY-ONE
HARPER
I hadn’t seen my father in ten years – ten long, agonizing years that had hardened my heart.
I hated him for breaking our family apart and for leaving me alone to take care of Mom; for having to tell her over and over that he was really gone, that he wasn’t coming back.
Hate wasn’t a strong enough word. I despised the man.
And yet, there was still a small part of me that longed for a father figure.
I’d thought that my work with The Seattle Sun would bring my dad back into my life. Surely a front-page editorial featuring someone as prominent as Wyatt Westwood would lure him out of hiding. I’d told myself it was just to get answers, and that as soon as I got them, I could go back to hating him again. But everything changed the moment he appeared on Wyatt’s front porch. And now, the same creature that I’d unknowingly interviewed for The Seattle Sun stood before me, in the dark stairwell of an art gallery.
It was good that my heart was already shattered into a million pieces from Wyatt. I’m not sure it would handle the pain of seeing my dad as… one of them.
Is that what he was? A sasquatch? He didn’t look anything like Wyatt or the others, but he also didn’t look like the creature with red eyes that sometimes haunted my dreams. Whatever he was, my dad’s oversized body was stuffed into a cheap-looking suit, his hair puffing out around the collar of the shirt. It was almost comical that my sasquatch father had been able to mingle amongst Seattle’s elite, without any of them knowing the truth.
I should have been scared. Wyatt had given me plenty of reason to be afraid, and the memory of my dad straining against rope flashed through my memory. But I wasn’t.
Standing next to the door, his muscles were tense and his stance wide, as if he hadn’t yet decided if he would fight or flee if danger came flying through the door.
“Dad?” I spoke gently, and rested my hand on his bicep, while I took off the butterfly mask. Door number ten had led to an empty concrete stairwell. Alone, there was no need to hide, no need to pretend. It was just the two of us. A father and daughter.
My father hadn’t been a tall man, so it felt strange to be have to stand on my tiptoes, even in heels, just to meet his eyes. They reminded me of Wyatt’s – golden.
“Sunbeam,” he whispered in disbelief. “You’re really here. I… wasn’t sure...” His voice trailed off.
“It took me a while to crack your code. I guess I’m a little rusty.”
“You have questions, I’m sure. I’ll do my best to answer what I can, in the time that we have.”
“Time?” I frowned. It felt like time had stopped, like there was no before or after. Just now.
He shook his head. “We don’t have long. It’s too risky. We both took a big chance coming here.”
It dawned on me. “Your stutter,” I gasped. His voice was lower and raspier than I remembered from my childhood, but unlike at the mansion, he was communicating in full sentences.
“I broke back into my old lab and took what I needed....”
I waited for more, but after a minute of silence, gave up. “Where have you been all these years?”
“I—” He exhaled a deep grunt. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m pretty used to complicated,” I said, smiling sadly. “I’ve been taking care of Mom on my own for the last ten years, remember?”
The grunt was back. “If I could go back in time, I would. I hate what I did to you and your mother; what my choices have caused. I’m…” he shuffled his stance, “scared that what I have to tell you is going to make you hate me. Even more than you already do.”
I reached for his hand, which was covered in a black glove that matched his blazer. I wondered if underneath the glove, his hand would feel safe like Wyatt’s. “I don’t hate you. I’m here now, aren’t I?”
He gave my hand a firm squeeze. “You are,” he sighed. “I… guess the best place to start is your thirteenth birthday. You remember how Mom started showing symptoms that day?” It wasn’t something I could ever forget, and I stared blankly into space, consumed by memories of that fateful evening ten years ago. “Harper?”
He was a sasquatch, not a mind reader, so I nodded. “I remember, Dad. They came out of nowhere.”
“That’s the thing. It wasn’t exactly…” his voice lowered, and with it, I could hear ten years of pain coming through, “out of nowhere. Harper, it’s time you know the truth about my research, and what happened at Genocorp.”