I stood motionless, feeling numb as I stared at a smile stretch across his face joyfully. I wanted to scream at him in rage, or completely break down crying, but I couldn't bring myself to do anything, I was trapped in my own thoughts as I stared at him in confusion.
He looked better than I hoped he would've been, he looked, happy.
He was carrying a briefcase and wore a clean suit, seeming to have just been passing by the park on his way to work.
He was slim and tall, his blond hair beginning to grey and his clear blue eyes settling over with contentment.
"H-how did you get here? How've you been? How's your mother?" He blurted elatedly, his features all showing how shocked he was.
I wondered how he even knew what I looked like, after all he had left me and my mum before I was even born.
"She's dead." I replied coldly, glaring at him intensely too angry to say anything else.
I could see in the corner of my eye George stood close beside me, his face expressing the same emotions I had.
"Wh-" My father began, his face dropping to sorrow.
"She overdosed on her medication, I was ten." I replied simply, trying not to completely lash out on him.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." He looked down at his feet with a slight frown.
"Are you, Dad? Because I don't remember ever receiving a telephone call once for twenty years. God, how did you even know what I look like? It's not like I've ever met you in person before, only in the crummy photographs I have of you and my mother." I said becoming slightly hysterical, unable to hold my anger back.
George grabbed my hand comfortingly to try and calm me down, seeing how angry I was becoming. I swallowed hard and bowed my head slightly, deciding against yelling at him more, even though I thought he deserved it.
"Your mother used to send me pictures." He spoke fishing into his pocket and pulling out his wallet, opening it and turning it to me.
I stared at the photo of my mother and I months before she had died in his wallet, my heart pounding hard against my ribs furiously.
"I, never got the chance to reply." He spoke with regret evident in his words.
"Pity." I choked sarcastically, feeling tears begin to rise out of pure frustration, I had hoped I'd never have to see my father ever in my lifetime, yet here we were.
"I'm really sorry to cut in, but I really think we should get back to the flat." George interrupted trying to help me get away from my dad before I did something I would regret later. He still remained in disguise, although his dark glasses were put into his pocket.
"Is this the boyfriend?" He asked lightheartedly, making me slip my hand from George's.
He cleared his throat nervously seeing I had no sliver of joy to be seen.
"No." I replied coldly. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness as I said it, but I pushed it aside because I knew it wasn't the top priority at the moment.
"Oh, well anyway, maybe we could go to dinner sometime? Here's my card." He said grabbing the business card from his pocket and extending it towards me.
I looked it over gritting my teeth before George nudged me slightly, making me grab the stupid thing uninterestedly.
"I will see you again Penelope, won't I?" He asked me solemnly, staring into my eyes with a slight hopefulness in his eyes.
