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“Enough! Stop! You want me to fucking leave, then I will!”
I ran down the stairs as he walked toward the door.
“Daddy, no!” I called out to him.
He looked up to me. His brown eyes looked puffy and red. “Odette, go back to your room.”
“Don’t go, Daddy. Please,” I begged, rushing down the stairs, holding his sleeve. I tried to pull, but he wouldn’t come with me.
“I’ll see you later, okay, sweetheart?” he said to me, petting my head. “Go back to bed.”
“Daddy—”
He yanked his arm away and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.
“No, Daddy.” I yanked on the door over and over again before it opened, and I jumped out.
“Odette?” Mommy called, but I saw him getting into his car.
“Daddy!” I screamed, trying to get to his car.
“Odette, stop!” My mommy was wrapped around me, holding me to her.
“Mommy, no.” I struggled and wiggled, but she held me tighter. She lifted me from the ground, and I watched as my dad pulled out of the driveway.
“Mommy, Daddy’s going! Bring him back!”
She didn’t listen. She carried me back into the house, and I watched the red lights behind his car as they went down the street. My eyes started to water, and when I couldn’t see him anymore, I began to cry. My whole face and body hurt—my nose, my eyes, my stomach, and my throat—but I kept crying.
“Odette,” Mommy whispered, setting me back down. “Sweetheart, stop crying, please. Mommy’s heart hurts, seeing you crying.”
I tried, but it wouldn’t stop. So she hugged me tightly, sitting on the floor with me and rocking, too. When I felt her tears, hot on my back, mine stopped. Coming out of her arms, I reached up and brushed her face. “It’s okay, Mommy. Daddy will come back.”
She smiled, cleaning my face, too. “Sweetheart, it might be just you and me for some time.”
I shook my head. “No. Daddy is coming back.”
I knew it.
PRESENT
When I woke up, there were tears in my eyes. I tried to wipe them away, but they rolled down my checks anyway. It was so weird, like I had no control, even though I didn’t want to be crying. It was decades ago. I got out of bed and washed my face before trying to go back to bed to sleep. It was still five in the morning, but each time I did close my eyes, I kept seeing those memories again. I didn’t know anything back then, and I truly thought my dad was just going to come back when he was feeling better. But he never did.
“I’m going to give myself a headache,” I muttered and felt the urge to go to my mom’s room to just talk to her. But I didn’t want to bring these memories back to her. Nor did I want to talk to Augusta, for obvious reasons.
“I really have no other friends?” I frowned.
I did have friends, but we never talked about stuff like this or our family problems. Apparently, doing that was a sign of weakness. Rich and powerful people never spoke about family issues to outsiders. Ever.
Gale does, my mind reminded me. And I looked at my phone just sitting there. He’s not going to be awake, I thought but still reached for my phone and texted.
Are you awake?
There wasn’t a reply, and I felt disappointed even though I knew he wouldn’t be. “You’re a mess, Odette,” I confessed, tossing my phone to the side.
However, it vibrated just as it hit the sheets. And I dashed for it.
