Two Love

Chapter 15

One rainy Monday morning during the Christmas holiday, Marty was rather rudely awakened by the loud ring of his doorbell. He was comfortable in his bed with the new memory foam mattress and 15-tog duvet, but instinct impelled him to roll out of bed and trudge down the stairs to the door.

To his surprise, upon opening the blue door, he saw Parisa standing there. She was wearing a black shirt and skirt combo instead of her usual pink; her earrings were absent, and her long black hair (which he'd never seen until this moment) was scooped up into a lazy ponytail. On closer inspection, he noted tears springing from her brown eyes.

"Hey, are you o-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Parisa launched herself into hugging Marty. She started to sob; tears flowed down her cheeks liberally. Marty put his arms around her hesitantly, and for once in his life chose to preserve the silence. Seeing his crush cry was like seeing the sun hide behind the clouds, or the shadow of a wolf roaming the woods.

Eventually Parisa caught her breath and looked up at Marty. Her eyes looked dull. "My dad..."

"He hit you again?" whispered Marty. Parisa shook her head.

"No, worse – he's gone." Another tear fell from Parisa's cheek onto Marty's shoulder.

"Gone? Like, forever?"

"It seems like it. He was arguing with Mum last night, and he packed up his stuff in a suitcase and stormed out the house. I know he can be strict, but I still love him."

Marty could kind of understand. His own dad had left him years ago - a coward's act that should have meant that he hated him - but a part of him still loved him and longed for the fatherly love he'd lacked all his life. Dad had left before he was old enough to hug him, or play badminton with him, or make any real memories. He'd always ached for his father's love, but all he'd got was the occasional birthday card. And the only time he'd seen him, it was like he didn't exist at all. His father was only a father to his new family - his new wife and his troublesome twin boys. 

"What's up, Marty?" asked Parisa, and Marty jolted back towards the friend he was meant to be comforting.

"Oh, nothing," he said casually. "That sounds sad. Not being able to hug him, I mean."

"Marty, you're tearing up. Tell me what's wrong."

He looked Parisa in the eyes, searching for sincerity, and he found that she was a friend he could trust with this part of himself he hadn't even told his best friend Everett about. He told her of his father's abandonment, how he'd only seen him once and how that one time had been rather miserable. Parisa gave Marty a tight hug as tears slipped from his eyes.

"Looks like we both have daddy issues," said Parisa, and Marty nodded. The tears kept coming from both of them, feeling sad for themselves and for each other. 

"Tell me lies," whispered Parisa, "I can't deal with the truth right now."

Marty raised an eyebrow. "I thought that lying was against your religion..."

"That's why I'm telling you to do it - you're an atheist."

A weak laugh came out of Marty. "Okay. I've been told I'm a very convincing liar, so those eyes will be dried in no time." Parisa lifted a small smile. "When you go home, your dad will be there. He'll be happy to see you, he'll give you a big hug and he'll ask you about your day. Then he'll cook up a tasty chicken tikka-"

"-my dad can't cook. Like, at all."

"Not even in your imagination?"

Parisa snorted. "Perhaps if pigs can fly."