Pencils & Polaroids

19: getting answers & air

Isaac wasn't pleased when he was told to take care of the house all alone. So Rainer had to call and sober up Charlie (who was with Hannah, duh) and put him as his replacement so he could drop me home. It drifted through my mind once to bring up why he was going to such great lengths to drop me home but given what I'd done, I didn't have the courage to initiate any kind of conversation with him again. 

His car, however, was very entertaining. I pumped the car perfume two times but when his eyes gave me a warning glance at the third attempt, I stopped myself. I tried to put on music but damn his phone was connected via Bluetooth and I didn't want to ask him for access. I rolled my window up and down and then got bored of it. 

I corrected my makeup in all the mirrors available, I even organized his dashboard space. When I was out of ideas, I grabbed my phone and dialed my father's number, hoping if I'm calling him at 1 in the morning, he'd probably think I was stuck in a life-and-death crisis and answer my call. 

What is it with our hearts refusing to give up on our fathers? I hum the ringtone in my mind, anticipating a vibration against my ears before I get to hear his voice. I envision the vibration so much, I almost hallucinate that happening. 

And then, I snap back to reality. 

The call ends unanswered. I'm happy that he at least didn't cut my call or block my number. It really comes down to that. From celebrating with Doritos and diet Coke to having him not cut my call intentionally. 

Biting my lip, I turn my phone screen dark and throw my phone in the center console space. I dislike how a part of me overtly becomes sad when I think about my father. It's almost like my entire body is preparing for an outburst and I'm hanging by a thin thread. 

"Boyfriend?" Rainer finally breaks the silence and my raging borderline depression. 

I shake my head without looking at him. "Worse," I scoff a light chuckle. "My dad." 

"Makes two of us," he says, hooking my thoughts onto imagining what problems he must be having with his father. But there's already too much on my plate and I fear if I ask him about it, he'd really tell me. I don't mind listening but then I'd have to tell him about mine. And I don't really think I'm that emotionally expressive yet. He hums, "Do you want to talk about it?" 

Like a bandaid, I rip it in one shot. "No." 

I waver if my one-word rejection hurt him as much as it hurt me. I blink back the tears and divert my attention by looking outside my rolled-down window. 

"Whatever it is, just talk to him, face to face." Rainer's words float from his mouth to my skin. "Kidnap him, lock him in, force him to hear you out--hold him hostage so all that he can do is listen to you. I'm sure you guys will come around." The ends of my lips curl when I picture holding my father hostage and yelling to him how much I miss him and him letting go of everything holding him back to come to give me a hug. 

"Plan on taking your own advice anytime soon?" I don't want him to see me smiling so I remain disrespectful and don't turn to him as I speak. 

He nonchalantly brushes my suggestion away by clicking his tongue. "Eh, it's different when you're a son. A lot of ego conflicts and silence to deal with. Usually takes more time." He inhales. "But daughters always have a magical key to their father's heart." 

Not likely. I want to tell him he's wrong. I want to tell him I was forced to trade my magical key to his stepson, who isn't even his blood. I want to tell him I have to go through people now to reach my dad. He's not a wall away anymore. Not even call away, actually. I want to tell him that I sometimes think of doing reckless things just so I'd get my father's attention. At least a hint that he still cares about me.