The Secret of Ella and Micha Chapter 17

MichaI called my dad from the road and got his address. He tried to talk to me a little bit, exactly I hung up on him. Con take careing him for bailing is not something Im release to do over the phone.He lives ab protrude two hours away, which pisses me off. Two hours away and he hasnt stopped by once. When I pull up to his stomach, my distort over nearly choke the life out of the steering wheel. He lives in a two-story white-brick homosexualsion. The neighborhood is nice with gigantic houses and people walking their dogs a considerable the sidewalk. Theres no drug dealings going on, no fights, no ballock machines parked in the front end yard.I sit in my car staring at the red gate with a big meet sign hanging on it. There are flowers around the front of the yard and the grass is green and cut. Is this wherefore he left us? Because he wanted a fancier life. Why the fuck couldnt he do that with us?My phone beeps in my pocket and I turn it off. Its Ella and I cant talk t o her right now.The front door o composes and a man in his forties steps out onto the porch. His hair is the same glossary of blonde as mine, but thinner. Hes wearing a black effort and looks like an arrogant prick.He scoops up the newspaper from the ground and squints at my car as he trots off the porch. I count to flipper in my head, force my hands away from the steering wheel, and sit out of the car. He recognizes me immediately and his brass drains of color.Micha? He tucks the newspaper under his arm. Is that you?I take another deep breath and walk across the front lawn. I dont even make out why Im here.Why dont you come inside(a) so we can talk? he suggests. I follow him into the house thats even nicer on the inside hardwood floors, a massive chandelier, and freshly particolored walls with family pictures on them. You have a family?He tosses the newspaper onto a circuit board and motions for me to have a seat in the living room. Yeah, a little girl thats twelve and a son thats eight.Feeling awkward, I sit cumulation in a chair thats decorated with frilly pillows. He lay himself across from me, seeming like he has no idea what to do or say next. So how have you been?Super. Theres a large depiction on the wall taken in a church of him and his wife on their wedding day and I stare at it, doing the math. How long have you been remarried? He fidgets uncomfortably as he leans back in the chair and stations his foot onto his knee. Micha, look Id rather not get into this.What did you do? Like run out on us and marry the first person you came across? Anger burns in my voice. He looks away toward the window and I get it. You were seeing her while you were muted with mom, werent you?He makes eye contact with me again, with eyes exactly like mine. envision Micha, there were things going on between your mother and I that you dont envision I wasnt happy.There were things going on between you and me, too, I snap. So whats your excuse for that one?He ru bs a hand across his face and lets out an exhausted sigh. Im sorry.I clench my hands into fists, fighting the crusade to flip-flop off the couch and strangle him. Youre sorry? Great resolution, asshole.He snatches a manila f olderer out of the drawer of the end put off and slams it down on the coffee table between us. Your grandfather left you some money in his will.My eyes flash from the folder to my father. Is that why you brought me here?He opens the folder and takes a small stack of papers out. I thought maybe you could use it to go to college or something. That would be nice, wouldnt it?Shaking my head, I get to my feet. Im not going to college and youd understand that if you knew me preceding(a) the age of six.He slides the papers across the table and sets a pen next to them. Please just take the money, Micha. I want to know that youre taken care of otherwise itll haunt me.I pause. Are you mean on ever seeing me again? His silence gives me the only answer I need. I dont want your God damn money. I pretermit the papers at him and storm for the front door. Give it to one of your accepted kids.He doesnt call after me when I stomp out the door and he doesnt chase me down. I march straight for my car, getting more(prenominal) furious with each step, and I slam my fist into the drivers side window. It doesnt break, but a couple of my knuckles pop.Fuck I shout, clutching my hand and the old lady across the street, whos working in her garden, scurries inside her mansion.I jump in my car and speed off down the road with no idea where the hell Im going.