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“Alright, that’s enough, Mark! Don’t talk to her like that. If you’ve got beef then have it out with me! Why ask me up here if you’re just gonna insult me? Don’t bring Misty into it,” I shout at him.
“C’mon. Out with it man, what’s your fucking problem?” I snarl, balling my fists, ready for anything now because Mark’s looking about as angry as I feel.
“Zak!” Misty calls out, putting herself between me and her Dad. “Dad? What’s wrong with you two?” she cries out. My hands open, wanting to go to her waist from behind, to pull her close to me, to put an end to all this nonsense once and for all.
But I did promise her.
“What does it matter what movie? We chatted through the whole thing anyway, it was some old Christmas movie, the one that’s always in the DVD player,” she blurts out, her body trembling with emotion.
Mark’s shoulders slump and I take a step back.
Misty rushes back to the kitchen and then I start when I hear the back door slam.
I start to turn but feel Mark’s hand is on my shoulder.
“I’ll go,” is all he says, and he moves past me without another word, going outside to find his daughter.
My Misty.Chapter SeventeenMistyI hear Zak’s voice getting louder and know my Dad well enough.
He knows something’s up.
It wouldn’t take a genius to sense the electricity between Zak and me now, especially when we’re consciously trying to keep our hands off each other.
But Zak and I agreed, we aren’t going to let this spoil Thanksgiving, I don’t think Dad will take the news too well and his reaction so far proves that.
I’m a little surprised at Zak though, but I didn’t hear everything my Dad said to him.
My Dad can be a little hard sometimes, especially when he feels like he’s been left out.
Once they’re at each other’s throats though, I can’t take it. I butt in and make up some story about whatever movie Zak and I were supposed to have watched, but something inside me feels done.
I’m twenty-two, not two, and what I do, and who I do it with is my business.
I can’t help but feel angry and upset with both my Dad and even Zak a little too, and I storm outside.
Into the storm that seems to be building up again.
I’ve only got a robe on and some flats, but I don’t care. A part of me wishes I’d gone out front instead and taken the car, but I’m so wound up.
Passing the outhouse, I grab a raincoat from the back of the door, no point getting totally soaked. And pulling the hood up over my head I start to make my way down the track toward the lake.
A roll of thunder overhead and the sky lighting up blocks out what I think sounds like my Dad calling for me, but I can’t be sure.
I don’t care right now. If two men twice my age can’t even act half their own, then I’ll leave them to sort it out between them.
I do want Zak though, but I don’t want drama. And every step I take starts to remind me how much I don’t feel like sitting through a whole big dinner and then a whole evening without even being able to touch him, talk to him properly.
And what happens when it’s time for bed?
Ah, Jesus! We’re supposed to be here for the whole week!
I groan out loud, and even that’s muted by another thunderclap as the sky darkens and it really starts to come down.
Making a sound through my lips, I grit my teeth, determined not to go back to the house.
No. Not yet.
I’m too upset right now and just want to be left alone.
“Misty!” I turn back for a moment, sure it’s my Dad calling, but the rain’s so hard now I could be imagining it.
Damn, if this path isn’t slippery, and where’s the rail?
I let out a cry as I skid down a muddy slope. My anger quickly turns to worry and then fear once I realize I have no idea where I am exactly, least of all which way it is back to the house.
Plus, when I even try to stop and turn around to climb back up, I only slip back down again.
My hands are both suddenly on the ground and my ass is in the air, getting soaked as the wind howls up the muddy hillside, throwing my jacket over my head.
Okay, this is serious now. I need a little help here… a lot of help really.
I call out to Dad, hoping it was his voice I heard and he’s just over the ridge I can make out. I’m sure the house is just past that. I haven’t been gone that long.
But I can’t say with certainty how long I’ve been sliding down this hill either.
