When The Lilacs Bloom

Part I ~ Chapter One

Part I

~CHAPTER ONE~ 

Dad's worried about me. About us. Me and my older sister, Gabby. I can see it in his eyes. He thinks I can't, but I can. I mean come on, I'm fifteen years old. I know enough by now that when your dad looks at you, his face expressionless but his eyes telling another story, he's either disappointed or is itching to say something but can't seem to find the right words.

I ignore it. Like always. I walk downstairs; well, more like skip down the stairs, and smell the familiar smell of lilacs. Our house is full of them. Lilacs in the dining rooms, the living rooms, the theater, the bedrooms, the yards. I've always tried to ask Dad why he keeps so many flowers in the house, but he pretends like I never asked the question.

I've tried asking Gabby to talk to him. To get him to open up. But it's like he's in a world of his own. Hiding in a turtle shell. Not bothering once to poke his head out and spill the beans. Trying to get him to talk is as hard as trying to get my best friend to say she hates Twilight.

We think it's because of our mother. All he said was that she left after I was born because she had things to do. Important things. To run errands. Normal mothers have things to do, errands to run, but they never abandon their family and then never return. When I was little, I always thought she'd gone to a grocery store, or to the mall, that maybe she'd come back in a few hours. But no. She never did. I even thought it was my fault. I mean, why else would she leave after I was born?

But, we've gotten used to it. I never knew her anyway. Gabby did. She told me she had long, straight brown hair like ours, with hazel eyes and a smile that could light up the entire world.

Apparently, Dad hasn't gotten used to her going away. Sometimes, I feel like he doesn't exist because he's always cooped up downstairs in his art studio. His door locked. Not letting anyone in. The only thing that actually makes him smile once in a while is the lilacs. All I remember him saying, when I was five and Gabby was seven, was "Your mother loved lilacs." And then his face hardened again, his normal expression, and he exited the room dramatically without a word.

He cries in the shower. He thinks that with the water running, we'll never be able to hear him. But we can. All that hurt. It's like they say. Sometimes, you might lose the diamond while you were too busy collecting stones. And all I'm waiting for, is for some kind of miracle to come and change my life.