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Her father backed out of the garage slowly, looking over his shoulder at the driveway. “How’s school?”
His inquiry indicated he’d forgotten his original question, which was good. Unfortunately, he must have read an article or felt some paternal guilt about not connecting to prompt his latest foray into her life. Most of the time, her father acted as if he were adrift in the waves his family created, not that he yelled or bullied, like some fathers. Unlike other dads, he actually lived in the house with them and helped with chores. He’d occasionally flash a smile or slap her on the back when she’d earned some academic award or made the honor roll. Lately, since she always made the honor roll, it no longer merited a special, “Way to go!”
Unlike Stella’s father, hers never told her he wished she’d never been born and his life would have been better without kids. How cold was that? Nope, her father loved all his offspring, but his hesitancy about parenting was obvious. His anxiety about saying or doing the wrong thing made her want to reassure him, which made for an unusual relationship. After twenty years of fatherhood, you’d think he’d have loosened up, but this might have been as loose as he would get. Probably late at night, he combed through the Internet looking for an elusive parenting manual, which included diagrams and flow charts. It was better to honor his attempts.
“Not flunking,” she said and took another bite of the apple. It wasn’t the largest apple in the world, so she might have to make real conversation if she ate too fast.
He chuckled as he turned out of the neighborhood. “I should say not, not with two intelligent parents.”
Leah’s lips turned down. There, that was the problem. Yes, both her parents were intelligent, but what about her contribution? The work just didn’t do itself. The reason she couldn’t connect with her father was he saw her as a product of Adam and Maura, as opposed to an individual. Her gaze flickered to her father, who drove with both hands on the wheel.
Was it harsh of her to judge him? He probably always did as told, never questioning, never rebelling. Leah never wondered if he did drugs when he was younger. She knew the answer was an unequivocal “no.” The words popped out before she thought about them. “Dad, did you always follow the rules when you were in school?”
“Yes, as well as I could. Sometimes, there were rules I didn’t understand or social rules, a type of pecking order I truly didn’t get until I was pecked a few times.” He turned his head to glance at her. Oh, he might reveal something of himself. Another reason she felt a tenacious connection with her father. All she knew was his parents had been Sales Reps for Christ, peddling the wonders of religion from both the pulpit and the street corner until his mother had taken up with a visiting evangelist and left. Her desertion had made Grandpa Carpenter transform himself into an aging hippie with talk about meditation, life’s journey, and brewing methods. At last, she’d get a glimpse into the secretive man who was her father.
Her lips curved up in satisfaction as she mentally scrolled through all the things she’d always wanted to ask. There were many. A motion at the edge of her vision caught her eye. “Dog!” she screamed, causing her father to swerve, barely missing the small white dog, someone’s indulged pet.
His hands gripped the steering wheel with an unnatural ferocity. No doubt, he was internally lecturing himself on what happens when you glance away from the road. It didn’t matter that ninety percent of the time there was no one else on Mulholland, a back road to the school. The tension lines around his mouth were obvious, indicating the small window of opportunity to find out more about him had just closed.
Neither of them spoke the rest of the ride. Her father was probably going over everything he could have done differently, a mental debriefing of the near-miss incident. Her thoughts jumped between avoiding Cerberus, seeing Dylan, and wondering about her father. When her grandpa had abruptly turned into this mellow fellow, she’d thought it would allow her own father to relax some, but it hadn’t.
I am two weeks from Kindle publication. I thought things would have moved faster than they have. If you're interested in getting a free mobi, epub or PDF copy please email me @ raynanoire@juno.com. Thanks :)
His inquiry indicated he’d forgotten his original question, which was good. Unfortunately, he must have read an article or felt some paternal guilt about not connecting to prompt his latest foray into her life. Most of the time, her father acted as if he were adrift in the waves his family created, not that he yelled or bullied, like some fathers. Unlike other dads, he actually lived in the house with them and helped with chores. He’d occasionally flash a smile or slap her on the back when she’d earned some academic award or made the honor roll. Lately, since she always made the honor roll, it no longer merited a special, “Way to go!”
Unlike Stella’s father, hers never told her he wished she’d never been born and his life would have been better without kids. How cold was that? Nope, her father loved all his offspring, but his hesitancy about parenting was obvious. His anxiety about saying or doing the wrong thing made her want to reassure him, which made for an unusual relationship. After twenty years of fatherhood, you’d think he’d have loosened up, but this might have been as loose as he would get. Probably late at night, he combed through the Internet looking for an elusive parenting manual, which included diagrams and flow charts. It was better to honor his attempts.
“Not flunking,” she said and took another bite of the apple. It wasn’t the largest apple in the world, so she might have to make real conversation if she ate too fast.
He chuckled as he turned out of the neighborhood. “I should say not, not with two intelligent parents.”
Leah’s lips turned down. There, that was the problem. Yes, both her parents were intelligent, but what about her contribution? The work just didn’t do itself. The reason she couldn’t connect with her father was he saw her as a product of Adam and Maura, as opposed to an individual. Her gaze flickered to her father, who drove with both hands on the wheel.
Was it harsh of her to judge him? He probably always did as told, never questioning, never rebelling. Leah never wondered if he did drugs when he was younger. She knew the answer was an unequivocal “no.” The words popped out before she thought about them. “Dad, did you always follow the rules when you were in school?”
“Yes, as well as I could. Sometimes, there were rules I didn’t understand or social rules, a type of pecking order I truly didn’t get until I was pecked a few times.” He turned his head to glance at her. Oh, he might reveal something of himself. Another reason she felt a tenacious connection with her father. All she knew was his parents had been Sales Reps for Christ, peddling the wonders of religion from both the pulpit and the street corner until his mother had taken up with a visiting evangelist and left. Her desertion had made Grandpa Carpenter transform himself into an aging hippie with talk about meditation, life’s journey, and brewing methods. At last, she’d get a glimpse into the secretive man who was her father.
Her lips curved up in satisfaction as she mentally scrolled through all the things she’d always wanted to ask. There were many. A motion at the edge of her vision caught her eye. “Dog!” she screamed, causing her father to swerve, barely missing the small white dog, someone’s indulged pet.
His hands gripped the steering wheel with an unnatural ferocity. No doubt, he was internally lecturing himself on what happens when you glance away from the road. It didn’t matter that ninety percent of the time there was no one else on Mulholland, a back road to the school. The tension lines around his mouth were obvious, indicating the small window of opportunity to find out more about him had just closed.
Neither of them spoke the rest of the ride. Her father was probably going over everything he could have done differently, a mental debriefing of the near-miss incident. Her thoughts jumped between avoiding Cerberus, seeing Dylan, and wondering about her father. When her grandpa had abruptly turned into this mellow fellow, she’d thought it would allow her own father to relax some, but it hadn’t.
I am two weeks from Kindle publication. I thought things would have moved faster than they have. If you're interested in getting a free mobi, epub or PDF copy please email me @ raynanoire@juno.com. Thanks :)