she never existed at all. His heart is still broken, and now with Grandma passing, I’m not sure what his mental state is.
My plan was to talk to him today. I want to stay here. I’ve already told him this, and he agreed to request a transfer, but that was the last I’d heard. Did he get the transfer? Are we going back to California? I have to register for school if we’re staying, and that would need to happen soon. I think classes start in a few weeks.
We meet with Grandma’s lawyer tomorrow and he’s going to read her will. I already know most of what it says. Grandma was open about what she was leaving me. Not that it matters right now. I’d trade it all to have her back.
My plane ticket, for our return flight tomorrow, is where I left it on my dresser—if I need to use it. I pray that my father took me seriously when I said that I wanted to stay. I know his job has to take priority, so I try not to ask for much. This is the first time I’ve asked to stay anywhere. This is something I want. I want to be here. I feel close to Grandma here.
I hope he understands that.
A knock on the door startles me. “Come in,” I call. It can only be one of two people. Eloise or my father.
“Your father would like to speak with you in the den, Miss Madison,” Eloise says, her voice muffled by the door.
“Thank you, Eloise. Please let him know that I will be down shortly.” I wait for a response, but no other words are spoken.
Eloise has been with my grandmother since she built the house. I’m hoping that my father has made her an offer to stay. To some, she may be the maid. To me, she’s a friend. My only friend right now. We barely speak, or rather Eloise barely speaks, but she’s here.
My plan for today is to go into town, check out some of the shops and pick up a few things. I need some new clothes before I start school—wherever that may be—and a few personal items. We’ve been here for almost a month, and I’ve been rotating the same five outfits. Before I head out, I stop in to see my father.
He looks distressed. His head is propped up with his hand, his elbow resting on the desk, and he’s reading from a stack of papers. Judging by the look on his face, he’s displeased with what they say.
“You wanted to see me?” I don’t bother to say hello. It’s been days since I’ve seen him, and now that I know he’s here, I’d rather not be.
“Yes,” he states without looking up. “There is a set of keys in the dish on the table in the foyer. I’ve purchased you a car. The moving truck will be here tomorrow morning. Please make sure you are available. They will need to know where things go. I’ll meet you at Mr. Finch’s office for the reading of Mother’s will. If there’s time after that, we need to get you registered for classes.”
It’s as if he was reading a checklist as he spoke. No emotion. Just the facts. He bought me a car. We need to do this. I need to do that.
“Thank you. I’m going into town. Do you need anything?” I don’t know why I offer. He wouldn’t have done the same. I’ve been shopping for myself, alone, since Mother died.
“No. Please drive carefully.” You can hear the finality of the conversation in his voice. I have been dismissed.
A brand new, shiny, white convertible is sitting in the driveway with the top down. It’s beautiful, but not my style. If my father paid attention to me in the slightest he would know that. This is the kind of car my mother would have liked. The black SUV with the tinted windows sitting next to it, my father’s vehicle I’m guessing, is more my style. My taste in cars is one of the only things I got from my father.
The fifteen-minute walk takes less than five minutes by car. As I turn onto the main street that runs through downtown I begin searching for a place to park. Downtown seems busy for a Monday morning. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. There are people milling about, couples my age
My plan was to talk to him today. I want to stay here. I’ve already told him this, and he agreed to request a transfer, but that was the last I’d heard. Did he get the transfer? Are we going back to California? I have to register for school if we’re staying, and that would need to happen soon. I think classes start in a few weeks.
We meet with Grandma’s lawyer tomorrow and he’s going to read her will. I already know most of what it says. Grandma was open about what she was leaving me. Not that it matters right now. I’d trade it all to have her back.
My plane ticket, for our return flight tomorrow, is where I left it on my dresser—if I need to use it. I pray that my father took me seriously when I said that I wanted to stay. I know his job has to take priority, so I try not to ask for much. This is the first time I’ve asked to stay anywhere. This is something I want. I want to be here. I feel close to Grandma here.
I hope he understands that.
A knock on the door startles me. “Come in,” I call. It can only be one of two people. Eloise or my father.
“Your father would like to speak with you in the den, Miss Madison,” Eloise says, her voice muffled by the door.
“Thank you, Eloise. Please let him know that I will be down shortly.” I wait for a response, but no other words are spoken.
Eloise has been with my grandmother since she built the house. I’m hoping that my father has made her an offer to stay. To some, she may be the maid. To me, she’s a friend. My only friend right now. We barely speak, or rather Eloise barely speaks, but she’s here.
My plan for today is to go into town, check out some of the shops and pick up a few things. I need some new clothes before I start school—wherever that may be—and a few personal items. We’ve been here for almost a month, and I’ve been rotating the same five outfits. Before I head out, I stop in to see my father.
He looks distressed. His head is propped up with his hand, his elbow resting on the desk, and he’s reading from a stack of papers. Judging by the look on his face, he’s displeased with what they say.
“You wanted to see me?” I don’t bother to say hello. It’s been days since I’ve seen him, and now that I know he’s here, I’d rather not be.
“Yes,” he states without looking up. “There is a set of keys in the dish on the table in the foyer. I’ve purchased you a car. The moving truck will be here tomorrow morning. Please make sure you are available. They will need to know where things go. I’ll meet you at Mr. Finch’s office for the reading of Mother’s will. If there’s time after that, we need to get you registered for classes.”
It’s as if he was reading a checklist as he spoke. No emotion. Just the facts. He bought me a car. We need to do this. I need to do that.
“Thank you. I’m going into town. Do you need anything?” I don’t know why I offer. He wouldn’t have done the same. I’ve been shopping for myself, alone, since Mother died.
“No. Please drive carefully.” You can hear the finality of the conversation in his voice. I have been dismissed.
A brand new, shiny, white convertible is sitting in the driveway with the top down. It’s beautiful, but not my style. If my father paid attention to me in the slightest he would know that. This is the kind of car my mother would have liked. The black SUV with the tinted windows sitting next to it, my father’s vehicle I’m guessing, is more my style. My taste in cars is one of the only things I got from my father.
The fifteen-minute walk takes less than five minutes by car. As I turn onto the main street that runs through downtown I begin searching for a place to park. Downtown seems busy for a Monday morning. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. There are people milling about, couples my age
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