"I know we broke up, but.., " he whispers in my ear, trailing his finger lightly along my arm. He places a soft kiss on my collarbone, making a shiver course through me.
He tilts his head so he's staring straight into my eyes. His pupils dilate as...
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I stand at the front porch of my house, my left hand resting on the doorknob, contemplating whether or not to walk in. Gray gives my right hand a small squeeze. "Wanna run away to Alaska?"
I chuckle at his joke. I could barely condone the cold in New York, so I'd probably die if I go to Alaska. "Don't want pennywise coming after me, " I shake my head, referring to his earlier joke.
Opening the door, I see Dad pacing the room, his hand in his mouth, biting his nails. Nail-biting was a thing dad did a lot when I was younger, and that was how I started. I used to copy almost every single thing he did.
Growing up, I was the perfect tomboy, always playing soccer and basketball. But somehow, in middle school, I changed. I started caring about my appearance and wanted to be like Taylor Swift. Boys went from Gross to Yum just like that.
My eyes shift to the dining table and see the woman who claimed to be my mother. She had slumped shoulders, her head buried in her hands. Her head darts up when she hears the door unlock. Her eyes land on me, a soft dejected expression etched on her face.
Dad reaches out to grab my hands, squeezing it gently before embracing me. "I'm sorry, Dove, " He whispers in my ear, making my eyes watery again.
Gray walks up the stairs towards his room to give us some privacy. The lady at the table gets up and walks towards us. "I'm sorry for the way I acted. My statements were insensitive, " She mumbles, fiddling with her hands.
Dad pulls away from me and directs me towards the dining table. "Can we talk?" he asks softly. I nod my head numbly and sit on the chair next to him.
The woman begins talking, but I raise my hands, signaling her to stop. The sound of her voice irritated me, and every time I hear it, I think of the same sentence. He's not your dad.
"I'd like it better if my Dad spoke to me, " I say, my voice void of emotions.
Her eyebrow furrow in a frown at my words, but she keeps quiet. We both look to my dad, waiting for him to speak.
"I think you'll understand better if Wendy explains it to you, " Dad points at her with his index finger.
Her name is Wendy. It's official. I hate the name, Wendy.
Wendy tries to reach for my hands, but I quickly tuck them under the table, playing with my chipped of nail polish. I hadn't been to the nail salon yet because of Shelia.
I run a hand through my hair and stare at Wendy. "You can start your story with Once upon a time, " I fake smile at her, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Her lips curl in annoyance at my words, and Dad gives me a stern look but doesn't say anything.
"Well, once upon a time, there was a woman named Wendy, " She began, matching my humor. If I wasn't so disturbed by her, I might have found it funny.
