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Clinton
ClintonTwo Weeks Later
I sighed as I stood in the empty, grand foyer of the house I grew up in. I’d call it a ‘childhood home,’ except that it held nothing positive. No memories of Thanksgiving dinners where families laughed around a table. No family breakfasts where we all talked about our upcoming day. No sitting around a television watching the news. No movie nights.
Just destruction. And darkness. And death.
“I won’t miss you one bit,” I murmured.
I looked over my shoulder, out through the open front door. There Cecilia sat in her new SUV. Even after trading in her cherry red luxury vehicle this past week, she was able to purchase a new car with money still going back into her pocket. An affordable, family SUV. With regular fabric seats, a basic Bluetooth interface, an extended overall warranty, and twenty grand more in her bank account. No payments. No hassle. No fuss.
And sadly enough, all of our things fit into the damn car.
“Take your time, Clint!”
Cecilia’s voice ripped me from my trance and I waved at her. I turned my gaze back into the house and slowly started walking around. Down the hallway leading into the kitchen. Back around into the living room. I walked upstairs, making sure we hadn’t left anything behind. No jewelry. No chargers. No random pairs of socks. Nothing like that.
And when I got to my bedroom, I sighed.
Everything looked so empty. What Cecilia and I didn’t sell off, Dad had sold off himself. He didn’t even seem to notice the lack of silverware. Or china. Or items in the attic. He emptied the house for the new owners, who were due to move in tomorrow morning. Empty.
That was the definition of this house.
I walked back downstairs and slid an envelope out of my pocket. I set it on the one piece of furniture that had stayed behind. A curio in the corner
of the foyer Dad hadn’t sold yet. I remember that curio distinctly. I remember the day Mom bought it. Right out of a thrift shop that angered Dad to no end.
We buy new, sweetheart. We don’t have to rummage through people’s garbage.
Does it have termites?
It looks diseased. Take it back.
I’ll buy you a better one for your birthday. Just get it out of my house.
That curio symbolized everything. It was the one fight my mother won over my father. The one fight where my father actually gave in. Granted, he left us alone for three weeks after telling Mom she wasn’t welcome on his latest business trip to China. But that didn’t matter. To her, that curio symbolized her strength. Her ability to put her foot down.
It gave her enough strength to walk away from the marriage.
It gave her enough strength to leave me behind.
Place the note and get out of here.
I sighed as I walked over to the piece of furniture. I pulled the tape out of my pocket and taped the bright blue envelope to the front glass. I knew the color would stand out. When Dad came by, I knew he’d see it. Whether he read the note addressed to him or not, I didn't know. And honestly? I didn’t care. Getting it down on paper helped. Handing it over to him helped even more. I did my part. I said what I had to say in that note.
And now, it was time to move on.
I sighed before I turned my back. The note was the last piece. It wasn’t much either. Just a paragraph or two on what he could expect of me from this point on. I told him I no longer wanted him in my life. Nor did I want to be part of his. I told him I’d find my own way. That I wouldn't ever ask him for anything again. That I wouldn't reach out, either. And I didn’t expect him to. I wanted him to know that we could go our separate ways and be done with all this shit. All this abuse. All this insanity.
Writing that note helped bring me peace.
And I hope it served to keep my father far away from me.
I walked out of the house and closed the front door behind me. I jiggled the knob, making sure it was locked. Then I headed for the SUV. Cecilia rolled up her window as I walked around to the passenger’s side. Ready to drive off into our new future. I climbed into the car and buckled my seatbelt. And as Cecilia reached over for my hand, I shook my head.
“I’m fine. I promise.”
