Chapter 18

Chapter 18

 

I didn’t know where Alex lived, but Noah knew. He’d been there a hundred times, I don’t think he could ever forget. We pulled up to a house on the other side of town. A small dwelling with flowers planted out front. Roses, of course. Alex’s favorite. Sixteen, I counted inside my head. One for each year she was alive, I assumed.

I wondered if Mr. Summers planted them every year at the beginning of spring. I could picture him on his hands and knees, white gloves and gardening hoe in hand. Wiping not only sweat from his brow but tears from his eyes as he dug up holes in the dirt. In each one, he’d sprinkle a few rose seeds and patch the hole as it once was. Every day he’d water the growing plants awaiting the day they spread their petals and bloomed. I bet he’d sit out on the porch late at night just admiring those roses. A gentle reminder that she wasn’t to be forgotten. Not now. Not ever.

The rain was still pounding down as Noah shifted the car into park. The headlights flickered off and we were left in darkness. Minutes passed and no one said a word. We sat still inside the car. I was thinking about what I was going to say to him when I saw him. Noah was watching me intently, waiting patiently for the moment I was ready. I glanced at the clock in the car and it read 8:54. It was probably too late to be doing this, but I didn’t care. I needed answers, and I couldn’t wait until dawn. I needed to know now.

I breathed in slowly, and exhaled loudly, preparing myself for whatever laid behind those doors. I had seen Mr. Summers several times before, but I had never once spoken to him. Images of him from the funeral swamped my brain. I remember the image of him crying in the corner, knowing he would never see his little girl smile again. Probably knowing damn well, that he was half the reason why. His long hours never allowed him to give his daughter the proper affection she deserved.

After she died, I heard through the loop that he had quit his job to spend time with his other daughter. Smart move that man made. After losing first her mother, and then her big sister, she couldn’t afford to lose a father too.

“You ready?” Noah asked, interrupting my thoughts. I sighed and nodded. I knew it was now or never, and the longer I waited, the more I was just prolonging the inevitable.

“Will you wait in the car?” He had already unbuckled his seat belt and was ready to step out when I said it. He looked at me concerned. “I’ll be fine,” I whispered. “I promise.” He leaned in to give me a kiss, but I turned my head away. Quickly, I pecked him on the cheek and got the hell out of that car.

I ran up to the doorstep to avoid the rain, although I’m not exactly sure why. My clothes were already soaked from before. Just instinct, I suppose. I stood before the door, holding my hand up against the wood paneling. The texture was smooth underneath my fingertips, yet rigid enough to make me pull away. I rang the doorbell beside the door and waited, uncomfortably for an answer.

After a moment a light flicked on and I heard scuffling behind the door. My mind was anxious, but I managed to keep my body still. The door nudged open and a little girl stood in the doorway.

“Hello,” she said cheerfully, looking up at me. I smiled. She couldn’t have been more than six years old. She wore purple and white polka dot pajamas and stood barefoot against the wooden floor. Her hair was blonde, just like Alex’s and it was jumbled in an adorable disaster.

“Hi there, sweetie,” I said kneeling down to her level. “Is your daddy home?” I asked as sweetly as I could. Her nose was narrow and her eyes were a deep ocean of blue, just like Alex’s. In fact, everything about her reminded me of the girl I had never given a chance. Just a mirror reflection of her big sister that made me sad. She couldn’t have been more than four years old when Alex died. I bet she didn’t even know the truth yet. How could her father bear to tell her such a dark secret like that?

She smiled at me and nodded before running off with her little feet towards one of the rooms at the end of the hall. I wiped my feet on the mat outside, and stepped inside, closing the door behind me. I glanced around the room. There wasn’t much to look at. Only a few pictures on the wall and they were all landscapes. Nothing sentimental. A coat rack stood next to the door with two coats neatly placed on it. One big one and one smaller one, respective to the two people living in this house. The walls were white and the floors were spotless as though they had just been mopped. There wasn’t any sign of actual life in this house, and that was a scary thought.

I heard the little girl calling for her father in the other room. “Some girl’s at the door,” she said excitedly. They must not get many visitors, I thought. I heard a deep groan, and then I heard footsteps. My heart beat quickened pace and I was terrified of his reaction when he laid his eyes on me.

I waited anxiously for the moment, and it felt like time stood still. From the moment I first heard the footsteps to the minute he appeared felt like a century although it couldn’t have been more than a couple of seconds. His eyes locked on mine and he stopped in his tracks the instant he saw me. “Lilly,” he said, not taking his eyes off of me. “Why don’t you go upstairs, and I’ll be up to tuck you in in a few minutes.”

“But daddy,” she moaned, tugging on his shirt. It had already been untucked as he stood there in a button down shirt and dress pants. His hair was disheveled, and I could see a bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter with an empty glass. Long day, I assumed.

“No buts,” he said tapping her on the back. “Go,” he ordered. She sighed, but she turned and walked up the stairs, slowly, only making this confrontation worse. His complexion turned pale as it always did, but only for a moment as red started to take over and flush his cheeks.

“Charlotte,” he said in a perplexed tone once his daughter had gone upstairs. “What are you doing here?” I hadn’t even known that he knew my name. I looked down at the floor, surveying the panels of wood lined perfectly into position. I shut my eyes thinking of the right words to say, but I knew no matter what I said, it wouldn’t come out right.

“There’s something I need to ask you about,” I said, looking back at him. He still looked confused, although I could see the sweat bubbles forming on his forehead. He knew why I was here.

“Come, uh, sit down,” he offered pulling out a chair at the kitchen table.

“Thanks,” I said walking into the kitchen and putting my purse down on the table. At the end of the hallway, the walls opened up to a kitchen and a living room, similar to that of Caleb’s house. The walls in both rooms were white, matching the walls in the hallway when I first entered. The kitchen was beautiful. Granite countertops and matching backsplash above the sink. Hanging glass light fixtures and dark wooden cabinets. It must’ve have just been re-done or it was underused. Maybe a combination of both. But despite all of the beautiful appliances and furniture, it didn’t feel like a home. There were no pictures on the wall, no decorative greetings around the room. Nothing but blank white space. It felt like showcase home. Like one that people go in just to look, but never buy. Certainly not one that was lived in.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, pouring himself another glass of whiskey.

“No thank you,” I responded politely. I didn’t intend on staying long. I just wanted to get the story and get the hell out of there. He nodded, and placed the glass on a coaster on the table. The only decorative piece was a bouquet of roses in a vase in the center of the table. They looked store bought which I found peculiar considering he grew some right outside in his front lawn. He could have easily picked a few and placed them in this vase, but he chose to go out of his way and buy some. How odd.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said anxiously. “I just have to go put Lilly to bed.” I nodded and watched him hurry up the stairs. I heard his footsteps climb ravenously quick up each step as I counted along. Fourteen in total. The same as Caleb’s staircase.   

I held my hands in front of me, listening to the pitter patter of raindrops hitting against the roof. They plopped melodiously down, creating a beautiful rhythm as they fell. I focused on breathing to the steady cadence of the rain dropping down from the clouds above.

Soon, I heard the familiar thumps of Mr. Summers as he made his way back down. He had tucked his shirt in sometime while he was back upstairs and combed through his hair. Probably trying to look presentable. That’s when I realized it wasn’t just Alex who wore the deceiving façade upon her face. It was her father too. Maybe that’s where she had learned it from.

He sat down at the kitchen table across from me and moved the vase to the side, providing a perfect line of sight between the two of us. He picked up his glass and took a long sip of his whiskey before carefully placing it down onto the table. He smoothed his wrinkled shirt, and placed his hands together on the table.

“So,” he said, swallowing the last remnants of whiskey in his mouth. “Let’s hear it.” His voice seemed tense. He knew why I was here, but he was still playing dumb.

“Why don’t you tell me?” I asked, leaning back in my chair. I had had enough of everyone’s games. I was sick and tired of being deceived by everyone I trusted. I needed to hear the truth and I needed to hear it now.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, confused. Sweat dripped down the side of his forehead and down his cheek. He wiped it away with a handkerchief in his shirt pocket. I was sick of this. I was sick of him.

“You know damn well why I’m here,” I muttered softly. My body was tensing up, and I wanted to scream, but out of respect for his daughter, I controlled my rage. He sighed and pursed his lips. There was something he wanted to tell me, but he was struggling to form the words. “What is it?” I asked impatiently. Whatever was going on inside his head needed to be said out loud. I needed to know what he wanted to say. I couldn’t stand sitting around waiting for something like this.

“Charlotte,” he started, looking away from me. His eyes glimmered under the light above us, creating a soft reflection of blue. The same color eyes that Alex had, the same color eyes that Lilly had, and the same colors eyes that I had. “This is all so complicated.” His words seemed forced. Like he wasn’t really believing what he was spitting out.

“What’s complicated?” I prodded.

“It was never supposed to happen like this,” he stated, picking up his glass and chugging the rest of his drink. I don’t think he wanted to do that, but the headache over the whiskey was probably better than the headache caused by his thoughts. He had to pick one, so he chose the lesser of two evils.

“What do you mean?”

“Your mother and I,” he said looking up. He shook his head and closed his eyes as though remembering.

“What about her?” I asked confused. I didn’t want to believe that any of this was true, but the words he was saying, the way in which he spoke. It all seemed so real. So believable. So motherfucking true, it hurt.

The words escaped his lips so feverishly, it sickened me. “We grew up together,” he started, staring at his empty glass. Remembering what it was like to be young again. “I met her in my history class,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “I was a senior, and she was a junior. Smart as can be Jules was, but she didn’t care much for school,” he babbled smiling. It sickened me to hear him talk about my mother like this.

“I often let her copy my homework,” he said, chuckling to himself. He looked up at me and then at his glass again and his smile faded. “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” he asked standing up and beginning to pour himself another glass of whiskey. I thought for a moment. This story wasn’t going to be over for a while, and I knew that. And as much as I didn’t want to hear him babble on about how wonderful my mother was, I had to. I needed to know every word that came out of his devious mouth.

“Sure. Do you have any wine?” I asked expectantly. He looked at me funny as though I said something completely absurd.

“You’re not twenty-one,” he said confused. I sneered at that comment. Ridiculous how adults were under the impression that everyone always followed the rules like the good little children we were.

“That’s never stopped me before,” I responded, giving him a little smirk. He didn’t look to happy but he nodded. He knew I probably needed this just as much as he needed his precious whiskey. He went into the kitchen, grabbed a wine glass from one of the cupboards and opened the wine cabinet. There was many so many bottles in there, dusty as can be.

“Red or white?” he asked, looking into the cabinet.

“Red please,” I responded politely. He chuckled.

“I should’ve guessed,” he said. “That was your mother’s favorite.” I glared at him but he was too busy pouring my glass of wine to notice.

“I, uh, just have to go tell Noah to go home,” I said to him, rising from the table.

“Noah?” he asked. “Noah Wellman?” My stomach dropped. For a second I had forgotten that Noah and Alex had dated. How stupid of me really. His face became pale again, like it had been every time I had seen him up until now.

“Uh, yeah,” I responded, heading to the door. He followed close behind, standing by the window while I slid my flip flops on and ran out into the rain. Noah was sitting there, waiting for me to come out. I walked up to the window and tapped on the glass, startling him I could tell. His eyes were closed and I wondered if he had dozed off.

“Hey you,” he said after rolling down the window.

“Hey,” I responded unemotionally. “I think I’m going to stay and talk for a while,” I said. He looked concerned again, but he nodded.

“Do you want me to wait for you?” he asked, but I shook my head no. “Well how are you going to get home?” he asked worriedly.

“I’ll figure something out,” I said, smiling. He smiled back, a genuine smile that faded far too quickly. He became uneasy again, looking towards the window. Mr. Summers stood behind the curtains watching us. I think he tried to conceal himself, but he wasn’t kidding anyone. We both knew he was there.

“I love you, Charlie,” Noah whispered at me. I nodded, before turning around and walking back towards the house. I knew he wouldn’t be pleased with that thought, but I couldn’t think about Noah right now. Not when I was absorbed with thoughts about my mother, and now my father. My poor father. Noah sat in the car watching me as I stood in the rain for just a moment before walking back into the safety of the Summers’ residence.

I heard the car start behind me, and the engine fade into the distance as Noah drove off. I’m sure I’d wake up to a couple missed phone calls and text messages.

Back inside, I sat at the end of the table staring at Mr. Summers as he began to speak again. “I knew she was dating Vinnie,” he said slowly, “but your mother was sure a sight for sore eyes. You take after her, you know that?” he said softly. I nodded.

“That’s what my grandmother always used to say,” I responded.

“She was dating Vinnie,” he continued, “but that didn’t stop us from falling in love,” he said, smiling. Remembering. I sipped the glass of wine, observing him. He was completely smitten and the sight made me nauseous.  All of a sudden, his expression became serious. He looked angry. “Your mother and I made love one night and it was incredible.” I swear I almost threw up in my mouth hearing those words. “But she seemed to disappear a few weeks later.” He sounded bitter and confused. I listened intently catching every word before it dropped into oblivion. He breathed in deeply through his nose and exhaled, trying to remember. “Weeks went by, but I hadn’t heard from her. I tried calling several times, but I never got an answer.” He sipped on his whiskey, being to feel the effects of it. I noticed his eyes turning red, but I just ignored it and sipped my wine.

“Finally, after about a month after she was gone, I got a call from her, saying she had moved away. To somewhere in Chicago and that she was with Vinnie,” he said, looking at my glass of wine.

He took a sip, and chuckled. “I didn’t even know you were mine until a year or two later,” he said lightheartedly. I frowned and shook my head.

“There’s no way,” I responded angrily. This couldn’t be happening to me. Vinnie was my father. That’s what I’ve always been told. If this was true that means everything I’ve ever known has been a lie. My whole life a joke. A foolish f*****g joke.

“It’s true,” he said, looking down at the floor. His leg shook under the table. I couldn’t see it, but I could hear the movement of his foot tapping against the floor. Despite what he said, I didn’t want to believe it. This couldn’t be true. How could this be true? “I visited your mother in prison a few years back,” he said. “A few years after she had told me.” He finished off the rest of his glass and spun it around in circles, the ice clinging against the side of the glass. “I was just like you,” he said. “I didn’t want to believe a word she was saying. I demanded a paternity test.” I laughed.

“How could you do a paternity test if you didn’t have any of my DNA?” I asked, smirking.

“The doctors had taken one of your baby hairs from when you were born and put it in a scrapbook for your mother,” he responded. He wiped the smirk off my face without even trying. “The paternity test confirmed what I had feared the most. That you were mine,” he said, shaking his head.

This couldn’t be happening. My legs trembled under the table and goosebumps enclosed around my entire body. I felt like I was in a nightmare, waiting for Noah to shake me awake and tell me it’ll all be okay. I wanted so desperately to be in his bed, safe in his arms. And then I remembered Caleb. I needed to stop thinking about Noah. It wasn’t fair to Caleb. These thoughts swarmed my brain, and now was certainly not the time to be debating who I belonged with. I picked up the glass of wine and chugged the remainder of what was left. Mr. Summers watched me in awe, but I didn’t care what he thought.

“Would you like another glass?” he asked delicately. I think he was afraid after observing that. Like he wasn’t sure what I was going to do next.

“Please,” I replied graciously. I needed something to kill these voices inside my head. Right now, I needed to be concerned with my father and nothing else.

“So what happened?” He set the glass of wine down next to me and took his seat at the other end of the table, sniffing the roses as he sat down. I could smell their scent in the air.

“Nothing,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “What was I supposed to do? Call you up, tell you I’m your father, and live happily ever after?” The sarcasm in his voice was obnoxious.

“Well, don’t you think I had a right to know?” I asked.

“Sure, you did,” he said. “But how could I say that? How could I crush a little girl like that? I couldn’t,” he said, wiping his brow with his handkerchief. For some reason, he was still sweating profusely, while I shivered. I frowned again.

“I still deserved to know the truth,” I yelled, louder than I had intended. He nodded, remorsefully.

“I know you did, Charlotte, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” He sounded sincere.

“How did Alex find out?” I asked. He laughed, looking at the roses again. He picked one up and held it in his hands, running his fingers across the stem. I watched his fingers avoiding the thorns sticking out, and pressing up against the petals. A beautiful shade of crimson underneath the roses. He saw me staring.

“Roses were her favorites,” he said, smiling. I saw tears forming in his eyes, but I didn’t say anything. I knew, but it wasn’t my place. I just wanted him to keep talking about her. I held my left shoulder with my right hand, pressing up against my tattoo. It was concealed behind my shirt, so Mr. Summers didn’t know it was there. But I knew, and that’s all that mattered. He put the rose back in the vase, and looked up at me.

He sighed and said, “She found the paternity papers sitting on my dresser.” His voice was wobbly as though he was embarrassed. “Stupid of me,” he muttered under his breath. I stared at him for a long time not knowing what else to say.

“Have you seen my mother since?” He shook his head.

“We kept in touch over the years, but never met up again. She told me what happened to Vinnie and herself. She told me how you were living out here with her mother.” He sighed. “She told me everything.” I figured.

Just then, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Mr. Summers must have too, as he stood up from the table. Lilly turned the corner and stood at the bottom of the staircase. “Daddy?” she said softly. Her voice sweet like nectar attracting a bee.

“What is it, sweetie?” he asked. His voice soft too.

“I can’t sleep,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Can you sing to me?” she pleaded in her soft little tone. No man could say no to that.

He picked her up his arm, and she rested her tired head on his shoulder. Slowly, he walked up the stairs, each thud louder than the next. His aching feet must have been strained from another day at the office, and he was struggling to make his way to the top. I wasn’t sure if I was invited too, but I wanted to listen. I crept behind, trying to avoid any creaks in the steps. In the hallway I stood, just outside the open door of Lilly’s room. Another room stood beside with the door closed. I wondered if it had been Alex’s room.

I stood, still, trying to conceal even my breathing. I didn’t want Mr. Summers to know that I was there. Listening. The words came out of his mouth pleasantly in an elegant manner which made me think he had done this before. Many times. I listened as the words sprinkled out of his mouth and filled the atmosphere with his melody.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are grey

I walked closer to the door peeking my head inside. He sat in a chair with Lilly propped up on his lap. She was staring at him as the words escaped his lips into thin air to create a melodic tune. Whenever he said the word sunshine, he’d tap her on the nose. It made her giggle each time, and he’d smile.

You never know, dear, how much I love you

Please don’t take my sunshine away

He finished singing, his voice croaky and slurred from the whiskey, but Lilly didn’t seem to mind. She hugged him tight, and he hugged her back.

“Beautiful,” I whispered under my breath, but loud enough for him to turn and see me standing in the doorway. His eyes stared into mine, but he didn’t say anything. Just smiled.

“Time for bed,” he whispered. Lilly jumped down from his lap and climbed into bed. I stood in the doorway still, watching him. Watching a good father put his daughter to sleep. Something I had always dreamed of, but never had.

Reviews

[Christopher Miller]

When the little girl was the one answering the door at almost 9 at night I thought that was a bit odd, then reasoned it would make sense if her father was battling depression. That's evident immediately, so it was a nice touch, whether it was intentional or not. I also like how much is explained through Charlotte's observations of the environment. And I'm imagining the dad only coming to life when his little girl demands it, such as greeting a visitor or singing her to sleep. It's hard to have a child when you're depressed. I remember clearly having my daughters as babies sitting on my chest, smiling at me. I wouldn't feel a thing, unless guilt at not feeling something counts. Thankfully, that's in the past.
I thought it was pretty harsh of him to say the idea that he was her father was his greatest fear. I also wondered what made her mother so certain of who the father was. Presumably, she was sleeping with both of them at the time. If not, I would expect suspicion from Vinnie to have been mentioned at some point. Or maybe something like it was and I missed it as I tear along your chapters.

[Sarah]

There was a brief comment from Charlie's mother that Vinnie was going to leave her. I never explained why but I will definitely go back and talk about how he found out and such. More like her mother was scared he would leave, but he really wasn't go to for the sake of Charlie. Something along those lines. And I actually didn't intend on the Mr. Summers having such a depressive persona, but I really like your interpretation, and I think I'm going to expand on that more.

[Rebecca]

confusing: is Caleb her brother, or is Noah her brother? And them being siblings doesnt need to stop them from being together, it just means they're more related than normal. is it caleb's dad or noah's dad?

[Lorry]

Well, before the review proper starts, I would just like to point out that you must be doing something right here, because I am starting to get sad that I have only a few chapters left to go. But don't get carried away just yet young lady, let's just see what your final marking shall be first, shall we? :)
As Charlie waited at the door, I could feel her tension too. This is a really well built chapter, you feel the tension throughout and I know now that I've been rooting for her finding her answers all along, as I impatiently wait to see the bigger picture unfold. It's a good sign too that you got me to move closer to the screen as I read, that's always a good sign, as I realised I was maybe ill advised holding my breath waiting for those answers... I would definitely have passed out if this chapter had been any longer :)
They fell in love, despite the fact she was dating Vinny...Ring any bells here? And drinking red wine too??? and ? :)
The ending of this chapter is so sad, Charlotte, the girl who became a woman too soon, seeing what must have been her childhood fantasy play out, watching Lilly being sung to by her Father and seeing what was missing from her life so needlessly. Powerful chapter here, really well done. I'm surprised you managed to pace it so well, as you must have been dying to just get it all down on paper, but you got the tempo of this perfectly.

[Sarah]

While I was writing, I never really had a plan of where the story was going to go. I just wrote what felt natural at the time, so none of this was necessarily outlined or planned.

[Mifa]

This is another great chapter Sarah. I particularly like the way you describe Mr. Summers home, using the physical things to relay a scarcity of happiness. You did good with the way you aligned the scene depicted here.

However, I'd like for you to look back and see exactly what I meant when I encouraged more dialogue to push the story forward. One way or another you'd see that a lot of the expositions in the earlier chapters could have been avoided since one way or another, they would have unfolded through the characters dialogues.

Nevertheless, this indeed is a good one. I honestly envy your drive. I wish I could stick to one project with this much passion. All I end up with are short stories. Lol. Good one, Sarah. Good one.

[Sarah]

Thank you for the review! I have been working on this one story for so long, it would be a shame to give up on it. I needed to finish it and I have. Chapter 20 is up. THE FINAL CHAPTER!