CHAPTER TWO

I wiped my tears away with my shirt sleeve as my grip on the steering wheel tightened.

I have to calm down some way or another or I’ll get myself in a car accident. What do they all say? Breathe?

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

I soon found myself in front of my house. I parked my car and got myself in. I threw my keys to the bowl at the hall and ran upstairs into my room.

My room was always my sanctuary from it all, ever since Mom and Dad started fighting. I collapsed on my bed and buried my face in the covers and breathed in the soothing smell of the fabric softener.

But no, I didn’t cry. I just lay there, focusing on my breathing.

Why did he come back?

Did he think he can pop back in my life after all these years?

But there’s the biggest question in the whole thing that has been burning in my mind.

Do I forgive him?

I mean, sure he left us. But I’m quite sure he had an explanation for that. He was having a bad time with Mom and even though they never said anything about it, I knew something was wrong.

I was just too afraid to ask.

But everything happens for a reason, right? Maybe if I can sit down with him and just listen to what he has to say, I’ll know why they argued, why he left.

After all, he’s only human.

I sat up on the bed and fished a box from underneath my bed. I blew the dust away from the box like the movies only to make me sneeze and cough.

How do they do it in the movies without having a reaction? When I blow the dust away from the box, my eyes burned and I started coughing and wheezing.

Guess not everyone can have a glamorous life, huh?

I opened the box to see an old photo album lying there.

I smiled to myself as I looked at the cover. I decorated the cover with Mom when I was five. We spend the whole afternoon sitting on the dining table gluing ribbons and paper cut outs we got from the craft store.

Dad contributed by staying away because he was completely hopeless with craft. I’m not kidding; he tried to help us cut and glue but only managed to ruin his pants. So, he just sits there on the chair looking at us work.

Those were the days when they didn’t fight, and we were all happy, when I used to steal them kissing in the kitchen and when they used to hold hands when we went out.

I opened the album and saw a photo of us at the beach. Dad was the photographer. Mom was in a black one piece sitting under the shade reading while I built a sandcastle beside her.

The following photos were of us in different places, doing different things. When it was my first Christmas and Dad held me by the waist while I put the star on the tree, I chuckled to myself as the picture resembled the part where Simba was held in Lion King.

There was a last picture pasted on the back cover of the album. It was the three of us, Mom, Dad and me.

Tears trickled down my cheeks as my thumb brushed the photo.

I’ve missed those days. Where I could cuddle in my parents’ arms, where I could feel safe in both of their embrace.

And now? Mom’s too busy working to feed us and Dad wasn’t there.

My tears were about to dry up when I heard the door opening from downstairs. The house was so quiet I could hear just about anything.

Oh my God, what if it’s a burglar?

I cursed internally to reclining the self-defence class Oakley High had once. I went to my closet and got out an emergency wooden stick.

What? You’ll never know when a burglar will choose to come into your house! Better be on the safe side and have a legal weapon nearby just in case.

I might not know any self-defence moves but it doesn’t take a two year old to know how to hit someone with a stick right?

Unless they have a gun...

Oh my God.

Trying not to breathe too loudly in case the intruder hears me, I slowly stepped down the stairs, praying that the boards don’t creak.

Just my luck that the floor boards did creak. I held my breath, looking down to check if the intruder noticed. Fortunately, no one was in sight.

I continued down stairs as fast as I can, my grip never loosening on the stick held close to my chest.

I stuck close to the walls, tip-toeing towards the kitchen. I poked my head in.

Empty.

Still clutching the stick close to my chest, I made my way to the living room.

Empty.

Furrowing my eye brows, I held the stick to my side. Maybe I heard wrong, maybe no one’s here to rob my house and probably sexually harass me.

Or maybe the intruder heard me coming down and is hiding in the basement right this very minute.

I raised the stick to the front of me again as I eased my way towards the basement. I was nearing it when I felt a hand fall on my shoulder.

‘AAAH!’ I screamed, dropping the stick in the process.

‘Oh my God, Casey!’ the owner of the hand yelled.

Wait, the voice sounds familiar. Slowly, I turned around to see Mom standing behind me with an eye brow raised.

Oh, it’s just Mom.

No burglar, no rapist.

I let out a sigh of relief as Mom started tapping her foot.

‘Well,’ she said. ‘Aren’t you going to explain yourself?’

‘Explain what?’ I asked. What could I possibly do wrong?

‘What you’re doing at home when school lets out in another,’ she looked at her wrist watch. ‘Two hours?’

‘Oh,’ I let out a nervous laugh. ‘Um, it’s a half-day?’ I smiled up at her, hoping she’ll buy it.

‘Is that so?’ she asked, not buying the excuse at all. ‘You know you can’t lie to me, Casey.’

‘Oh, all right,’ I sighed. I’m a terrible liar, ask anyone and they’ll give you an affirmative answer.

‘I’m waiting,’ she said, tapping her foot in an intimidating manner.

‘Well, the thing is I kind of freaked out.’

‘Freaked out about -?’

Sighing again, I dropped my gaze to my shoes. ‘Dad showed up at school today.’

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I know.’

She knows? AND SHE DIDN’T TELL ME?

‘You know? How?’ I asked disbelievingly. Had they been staying in touch? I furrowed my eye brows as I tried to remember any mysterious phone calls or letters.

‘Well, I told him to come. Didn’t expect him to turn up at your school though.’

Right.

My Mom invited Dad to come back.

My Mom invited Dad, who left us for four years, to come back.

What’s next? Bradley Cooper showing up on my doorstep begging for my hand in marriage?

Psh, like that’s going to happen.

Well, here's Chapter Two for you! :) stay tuned for the next oneee :>