Open Fields of Ohio

9 ••• Guess Not. . .

"You can't keep blaming him, Dawn," I shouted. Dawn's been crying and complaning up and around about her dad. I looked at her small frame, how she lookef at me through her long lashes, and her sad expression.

I calmed and knelt before her, my boive kind now. "I get-I get you, I know how you feel. Never been through it, baby, but from what you say and tell me about it, I can feel myself going through it. I feel what you do, remember, it tears me to see you like this.

I can't stand the sight of you hurt. But ... together, we can go through it just fine." She sniffed and wipped her nose. "Can you let me?"

"No," she said. "You don't ... get it-you don't get me. My dad was everything, okay? He was my hero." She galred at me so hard I could feel my heart stop. The whole wrong way. "When I was twelve, my dad stopped another boy from touching me. In all the bad intentions a man would touch a woman.

I was merely twelve and the boy was fifteen. And my daddy saved me, yeah? From there, me and dad are-were everything. And mama was happier." I blanched at this. I didn't even think she's gone through that.

I felt my face screw up in emotion. "But ..." She sighed again, leaning away from me and against the wall, she threw her arm over her eyes and tears stained her arm. "Last week, I tried to call him. Over ... and ... over ..." She sounded so done. "Last Friday, one if his lady frends picked up his phone.

And said 'stop calling, I'm not giving any money for his own doing' and hung up. I was so pissed off, so I just tracked the caller. Three hours from here, a little town called Paradise, should be called Irony, though." She sat up straighter and faced me. That first girl I saw, that stranger, was staring back at me right now.

"Long story fucking short, baby: my dad got himself in a street fight. He was such a cool dad. The ones like the movies? Maybe like that guy from I Am Number Four. John's dad? That was my dad. But, he had two problems: drinking and street fighting.

He got a few shots, got in a fight in the bar and got lucky with some dude named Ricky 'The Wolf' Santos. After two rounds, he was out cold. The next day, he was found dead in his room from ..." She got up suddenly and walked around her room, we were in her house.

She got the nearest object, her bedsde table, and flipped it. "From damn fuckin' overdose. He'd been upset that he lost, calle a few buddies to drink and-DAMN IT!" She yelled and kicked the same table, earning anither curse because she hit it barefooted.

I got up and blindly out my arms around her, bringing us to the ground slowly as she shook against me. I felt my eyes tear up, this was completely terrific and horribke and damn messed up. I couldn't even believe it. Her father was dead? I couldn't belive it.

"I had no ... idea, Dawn." I whispered, strained. "Please tell me what to do, beautiful, tell me what can I do to make you feel better." After a few minutes, she spoke.

"Let me some time, I wanna get over this as soon as I can. I'll be ... gone for a few, um."

"Days," I finished for her.

Silence. I frowned.

"Weeks?"

Silence.

"Baby, months?" She sighed.

"It's for our own good. I'll call, I see you from time to time. But when I'm alone: I think better. I'm better alone. Its just my thing. I like to be in my own world. My own sadness. I won't be reckless or whatever will worry you. I swear." And I believed her. So I let her. Probably te worst descion I've made.

Sigh ...