Lines // hemmings

Chapter 23

ABBY

“Where have you been?” Dad asks the minute I step inside the kitchen.

I could smell the Spaghetti Bolognese even from the doorsteps outside, so it wasn’t a surprise when I saw dad putting spaghetti on two plates. Some of the spaghetti falls to the floor and dad sighs, putting down the plates on the sink and starts cleaning off the food from the floor.

I take my seat by the table and continue watching dad clean and get me food. I’m not really feeling like cleaning anymore, I’ve already cleaned the aisles in the store. Someone accidentally spilled tomato soup – again, and it took me half an hour to get the floor cleaned.

“I was at work.”

“You weren’t there all day. I went to the store and Martha said you’d switched shifts? So where were you?” He asks, his tone sounding friendly.

“You went to the store? Why?” I frown. Dad doesn’t usually go to the store, if we had to do grocery shopping, he’d always send me a list and I’d buy it after work.

“Because you didn’t answer your phone, darling.”

“I haven’t gotten any text messages,” I frown and pull up my phone.

I press the home button but the screen remains dark.

“Oh…I turned it off, oops,” I say, remembering the safety rules of not being allowed of having the phones on or with you during visiting prisoners. Not that I would give away my phone to anyone.

Dad raises an eyebrow at me since I never turn my phone off, at least never during the day and especially not at work. He knows I use to play games at it while standing behind the counter.

“Oops, yeah. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I, uhm, I met up with a friend,” I reply, breaking the eye contact and start swirling around the spaghetti on my fork. I really like spaghetti and I only just realized it.

“I thought Calum knew about your schedule? And isn’t he busy with studies?”

“I have other friends than Calum, dad!” I exclaim, dropping the fork onto my plate.

It isn’t a total lie, because I barely have any friends. Three, tops. But is it that obvious? Is it that obvious that even my own dad can see that I’m lonely? I need to put on a better acting face.

“You just don’t talk much about them, that’s all. What are their names?” He asks, as if nothing has happened. 

“Doesn’t matter,” I sigh, shaking my head and try focusing on my food instead.

And I do stay focused on my food, and dad starts reading the newspaper instead when he realizes I’m not going to continue the conversation. I can’t stay mad at dad, but there is still this anger inside of me that I’ve never felt towards him before and I don’t know how to get rid of it. Is it guilt I feel? Guilt that I haven’t told him about Luke? That I’ve kept me visiting him, a secret? I’ve always been quite a chatty person and can start talking to anyone, but there are only a few people I trust. And those I do trust, have earned it. There are still things I never tell anyone. Things that are too personal or things I just don’t want to share because once you share something, once you tell a secret, it’s no longer a secret. It’s only a secret when no one other than you knows about it.

But I’ve never felt guilty before. 

“I met up with Luke.”