13. Hope

I hadn’t lied. I am pissed off that he ditched me, but saying it was because I missed our friendship wasn’t the entire truth.

My father is attending so much meditation that he is forgetting to eat. His blue eyes, always so vivid and bright, are dwindling, like a dying star. I miss his personality. His muteness never stopped him from filling a room with his character before.

Staring at the portrait of my mother, I know I’m trying to capture something I’ll never have again. So I don’t blame my father for hiding down here. We can both pretend until spring, when we return to our empty house. Where we will be stabbed in the heart all over again.

I haven’t added much to the portrait. Each day, I spend hours staring at it, listening for footsteps that never come.

Ryan sometimes floats into my mind. I try to keep him there. Remember how it felt to nuzzle against his blonde scruffy beard and gaze into his gentle brown eyes. Fill my thoughts, my heart with our fragile, barely sealed bond.

Why