Mark of the Moon

Chapter 14 - A Multi-Colored Blur

Chapter 14: A Multi-Colored Blur:

 "Daddy," I squealed as he opened the door to his apartment, slinging my arms around his neck in a tight hug. He chuckled and hugged me back, "Hey, sweetie," 

  It was like being put back into the same mind frame as when I had a family once again, just my father's presence made everything feel alright again. The smell of his clothes as he hugged me made me want to cry, "It's been too long," I murmured.

  He didn't say anything back, he didn't need to.

  Eventually he ushered us out of the doorway, so we could cut off the hallway of doors and into the apartment. It was a nice apartment, on the expensive side of things, well furnished, and a beautiful view of the city. The apartment was on the fifteenth floor of the skyscraper, making the city look all too tiny beneath us, the blinking lights dizzy with all the colors.

  "Just toss your stuff on the couch, for now." Dad said as he passed me and walked into the kitchen. "I'm making dinner for us right now,"

  "I wondered what was burning," I joked, and threw my duffel bag onto the large leather couch, that I would most likely be sleeping on for the next two nights. The marble looking fireplace was full lit; the room looked much livelier than at home, because I could still hear the sound of another person searching around in the kitchen.

  "Ha-ha, very funny, but if you don't remember I can cook very well, thank you very much," he replied as I walked into the kitchen. He was stirring something in a pot as a turkey cooked in the oven. Rolls were already in a neat little basket, covered by a cloth to keep them warm, and a bowl of stuffing sat on the counter, covered in tin foil to keep the heat in.

  "Are you seriously wearing an apron, dad?" I laughed and he looked down suddenly at his attire, embarrassed as he realized what he was wearing.

  "I didn't want to get my pants dirty..." he mumbled, his face turning red but his lips were turned upward in a smile as I fell to the floor laughing. The floor was the mirror kind that reflected you in its surface, and my breath fogged up the tile that my face rested on as I laughed my heart out. I had never pictured my father wearing something as crazy as an apron, not even my mom had worn such a thing, but on him, it was worth not being able to breath for a few minutes.

  "That's enough, now get up off the floor and help me with dinner, if you want to eat," he said seriously, and I managed to pry myself off the floor, using the bar stool as support, wiping tears out of my eyes.

  "Okay, but you have to promise to take that apron off or I won't be able to take you seriously."

  "It's not that bad," he said pouring out the mashed potatoes into another bowl.

  "Dad...it has pink and yellow roses adorning the whole piece of fabric," I said seriously, picking up the flimsy, not to mention frilled, fabric.

  "Fine, fine, I'll take it off, but you better start laughing," he said, chuckling himself, and swiftly untying the strings and throwing the apron into the dirty clothes basket by the door leading into the laundry room.

  "What is there really left to do?" I asked, washing my hands.

  He looked around slightly startled, but then shrugged, "Set the table,"

  I nodded and went to the cabinet to grab the plates, but all there was were vases. "Uhh...dad, where are the plates?"

  "Right cabinet, above the sink," he said instinctively, and I grabbed two plates, along with the glass cups and silverware, whisking them off to the dining room table. A grand chandelier hung over the table, providing an illumination over the oak table.