It took all my strength not to turn around and go back to my apartment every chance I got. I didn't want to find out what bad luck hovered above my head when I got to the end of my GPS's directions. And for the forty minutes worth of driving I did, following the same line not knowing where it would lead, I ended up in a pompous neighborhood, parked across the street from a large, immodest home.
As my hands reached for the key to the ignition, a memorable tremble returned to my skin. It was overwhelming to sit in my small car just a few feet away from my father's house. But I knew I had to step out into the July air and knock on the door eventually. I knew that I couldn't stay in the comfort of the steering wheel and a seatbelt. However, I needed these last five minutes to prepare myself for whatever happened next; good or bad.
The following steps happened in scattered blurs. I didn't exactly remember stepping on the driveway or walking up the fancy stairs up to the thick and wooden entrance doors. Their glossy and furnished facade had no telling on the years behind them. The second I pressed on the doorbell adjacent to the stiff frame and the grating sound played twice, I snapped outside of my head and managed to focus my eyes on every other detail of the house from the exterior.
Not even a minute later, there was a click, and from the gaping space that formed, came a beautiful woman dressed in a sweater and jeans. The first thing I saw was her blonde hair framing her rounded face, hiding away her ears. Then, as she stared at me, I took notice of her brown eyes. It was fairly odd for a blonde to have brown eyes, and something about it made her seem friendlier to me. The lines forming at the crinkle of her eyes and the dimples that showed after her brief smile also added to her geniality. There wasn't any part of her that I found intimidating – which was comfortingly strange.
"Are you Emma?" She asked, brightly.
"I am." I nodded and immediately after she let go of the door handle, she embraced me with tight arms.
Her pungent flower scent hit me like a pillow to the face. The over-the-top hoop earrings that peered through that blonde hair also poked at my cheek, yet the softness of her clothes and voice made me feel everything but uncomfortable.
"You are so beautiful." She almost gasped. "Sorry, I should probably introduce myself! I'm Barbara, but please call me Barb! I don't like formalities between families. Gosh, you have no idea how long I've wanted to meet you."
"It's really nice to meet you too," I grinned, lightly. "Thank you for inviting me here today. It's nice to meet this part of my family."
"I'm just glad you came. For a while we thought that maybe you wouldn't show. Sam has been pacing for the last hour worrying that you wouldn't. He's a bit extreme sometimes." A small chuckle rolled over her natural colored lipstick. "Anyway, come on in! Make yourself comfortable. I'm almost done with dinner, so you won't wait too long."
Her neatly manicured hands usher me into the fine-looking interior. The abstract paintings hung in the foyer walls caught my attention first. Then, the plush and expensive couches next to the flight of steps leading to an upstairs part of the house. Even vases sat on top of small pillars where above, a chandelier draped down from the high ceiling.
But what surprised me was the view of boxes still unpacked in the corners of the first room we walked by on our way down the ample hallway. They didn't look like they'd sat there very long.
"I know the house seems quite big, but don't let it intimidate you." She rubbed the side of my arm the same way my mother did. "I could barely keep Gabriel from writing on the walls when he was just a little younger, so you can imagine me running around like a chicken chasing after him." I don't say anything in return as she continues to speak while leading us into an ambient space with counters and kitchen supplies. "I heard you're majoring in English! How are you liking it so far?" She asks while putting water into a pot and then sits it above the stove medium low heat.
"It's amazing. I'm learning so much more about culture and style, which is really great. There's a lot that makes the art of storytelling, and having the opportunity to learn it from some of the best professionals is an incredible experience." I look up from the piece of counter I had locked my eyes on and see the expression of delight on her face. "Sorry, you're probably bored already..."
"Not at all! On the contrary, I completely agree!" She gleams up at me. "I've loved storytelling since I was a little girl. I'm quite a fan of it myself." She sits down on one of the island chairs and waves me over to sit next to her.
"Really?" I say, surprised. "Are you in the publishing business by any chance?"
"Unfortunately I'm not. I dedicate my time on Gabe, making sure he has me around all the time since he's still quite young. But maybe in the future I could think about getting back on that horse."
"It's great that you focus your time on Gabriel. He seems like a really great kid."
"He's a headache." She laughs in a playful manner. "But he's the love of my life. Everyday he gives my life a purpose."
I tease up the corners of my mouth and squeeze my hands together, still a little nervous of the things around me. They were similar to Will's house, maybe not as big but they both shared the same quality of fine things that you normally didn't find in your average home.
Her almond colored eyes settled on me, calmly. "I know we don't know each other well, and please tell me if it's none of my business, but can I ask if there's anyone special in your life?"
"No, not yet. College is all I'm keeping up with at the moment. But I'd like to think that in the future I'll find that one guy that I can build a family with."
She hums and nods her head, placing her gentle hands on top of my uneasy ones. "If I may, can I give you some advice?" I signaled my answer and eased back. "Fall in love for the wrong boy. Make stupid mistakes. Live a normal college life because grades aren't everything in life. They won't and do not define you. Trust me, I get that you don't want to date right now and you think you're too busy, but I think it would be good to have some fun with the people around you before you decide to start searching for the one to settle down with." She taps her hands on mine in a lively gesture. "Now, you don't have to listen to someone like me, especially since we haven't known each other for very long, but it doesn't get better than right now."
Barbara stood from her chair abruptly and tended to the pot of water that had now begun to boil.
"I hope you aren't a vegetarian or a vegan or whatever diet trends are going on these days because I'm quite the mess in the kitchen. I don't know how to make anything other than rice tacos."
"I'm not picky." I inform her, slowly starting to feel more relaxed around her.
"Emma! You're here!" My father chirped from behind me.
"Hi," I stood up to greet him.
"Did you find the house okay? Was it a long drive? Did you have any troubles? Where-"
"Honey, relax." Barbara chuckles, soothing him with a stroke of her hand. "You'll scare the poor girl with so many questions."
"Sorry... I'm just glad you're here." He shares a half smile before adding, "Gabe will be down soon. He said he wanted to show you something...?"
On cue, a small voice, high-pitched like a bird squawking, enters the kitchen. He wore a smile that could explode off into laughter and eyes that turned shiny like the small little diamonds on a ring.
"Emma!" He shouted out.
I could see him running towards me, now. His little arms were already reaching and wrapping around my waist, not leaving me any time to react. He was dressed in a navy vest made of wool, the same kind and texture that were Barbara's. Paired with his top, he had put on a set of Classic Chinos with black dress shoes.
When I was able to lower myself to his eye-level, I wrapped my arms around his frail body and chose to give him a kiss on his chubby and rather smooth cheek. A when he let go of me, his big and round eyes looked straight at me. His hands therefore drew from his pocket a crinkled, half broken notepad along with a pencil, which he proceeded to place behind his ear.
"I have something to show you. I'd like you to give me your honest opinion on something I've been working on after the day I met you."
He opened a page that he'd marked previously and shoved me the entire thing. Quickly, he ran behind the counter and stood behind Barbara's legs, playing with the back leg part of her jeans. Simultaneously, his face turned a cloud of red.
"It's the one called 'Poppy Flower'. I don't want to look while you read it."
I looked over at Barbara who had laughed quietly with her husband before going back to stirring the hot pot, this time adding a few other ingredients such as rice and a few other condiments.
While she had done that, I flattened out the piece of paper and began to read.
'You blow in the sky,
Even though it's low.
Your red petals dance
In the summer snow.
If you told me to pick,
I'd choose you.
Tell everyone I'd chosen the best
Only to find you in few.
My tears would stain the field
Where you grew,
Everything now in blue.
I'd grow old and perish
Still remembering you,
As the beautiful flower
I once knew.'
I look in his direction, purely amazed. "Did you really write this?"
"It's terrible I know! But I'm working on it!"
"Gabriel, do you realize how beautiful this is? Where did you learn to write like this?"
His face peeked behind the blue jeans and over the counter with raised brows.
"I don't know... it just, came out I guess."
"May I see, Gabe?" My father directs at him.
"No," He shook his head rapidly. "Only Emma can see. I wrote this poem for her."
My father ruffled Gabriel's hair without being bothered by the decision to not share the poem and instead, turned back to Barbara, whispering something to her.
"Dinner won't be ready for a few minutes, feel free to look around, Emma." She told me, chopping some carrots with a sharpened knife.
"Emma, I was hoping we could talk a little in my study. Would that be okay with you?" My father's arms stilled at his sides, waiting for my reply.
"Sure," I say, and follow him into a room filled with books covering most of the left wall.
At the back wall of this room, there was a large window that hovered over a dark wooden desk. It shone the perfect amount of light inside the space. I could just about imagine how amazing this scenery would be during a sunset; the blood colored oranges mixing in with the browns of the decorations, while the dark lines of the windows would create shadows on the carpeted floors. It was almost exactly what I pictured when I thought of the word 'home office'. And it was exactly how I wanted to decorate mine if I ever had one.
"Please, take a seat." He urged. "I wanted to thank you for coming today. But, I- I also wanted to talk to you about your mother."
I stared blankly.
"How is she? Are you guys okay with money?"
"She's okay." I mumbled my response.
"I know it's not my place, but you are my daughter and I need to make sure you aren't worried about things like that. I want you to be able to count on me."
"We're okay, Sam. Really, we are." I make my best efforts to convince him.
He breathes out roughly. "Has... has your mother been in a relationship? You know... since me?"
"What?" I turned bitter.
"I mean, is she happy?"
"That wouldn't be any of your business." I said, unexpectedly stern. "I don't think you have the right to ask about her happiness, Sam." Not after you destroyed it, my subconscious adds, and I kick myself for it.
"No, I'm sorry. You're right. That isn't any of my business. I... shouldn't have asked."
When I see the lack of happiness on his face, I frown. "She's been through a lot." I explain in carefully uncommitted tones. "But she is happy."
"Thank you." He mimicked a smile, but it still gave the impression of some kind of resentment that he held back.
"You have so many books," I point at the collection on the shelf in an attempt to change the mood.
"They're mostly classics, some first edition."
"First edition?" I asked with a jarred tone. "May I take a look?"
When he agreed, I stood up and moved around to that side of the room. I ran my finger along the spines and it stopped on a particular book that I came to recognize by its colors.
"You have most of the classics..."
My father stood from his desk and stepped over to me.
"I do. Barb is a big reader like myself. It's more of a shared collection than just mine." This time he did manage to smile at the mention of his wife. "Would you like to keep one?"
"No, I couldn't. This is your collection and I don't want to take it away from it."
"Please, take one. I'm sure Barb would love it if you took something from here. Think of it as a gift." I run my finger along the spine of the next book, feeling each bump under my fingertip.
"How about I borrow one? I couldn't ever keep them."
"Emma, take one. Please." His eyes wrinkled. "I've got so many anyways. Here, take this one." He reached above his head and pulled out a thin piece of literature. "'Lord Of The Flies' is one of my favorites. I'm sure you'll enjoy it just as much as I did the first time I read it."
He pushed the book into my hands and led us back out into both the kitchen and living room before I could ever object to his kind gift.
"Dad?" Gabe's voice calls from the far right corner.
"Yes, Gabe?"
"Mom says dinner is ready."
"We'll be there in a moment." He replied back to him. "I'm just letting you know now, Emma, that when you taste this woman's rice tacos you won't want to ever leave again."
We both walked side by side to where the dining table had been neatly set up with a centerpiece made up of white bellflowers in a vase. Barbara had folded the napkins in a specific triangular shape whilst the cutlery tidily lined up with the food that filled the rest of the space on the table.