In a Situationship with Mr. Wolf

Chapter 3: Secret Unlocked

My first instinct was to run, cry, and hide any of those three. Maybe, I looked like a head that had a big watery eye with skin pale as milk at the end of the dinner table. But I don’t care, why does Dad say words I can’t understand?

“What?” Andrea reacted, her first word for this night. Suddenly, I saw the world on another edge, it was a small box and I was stuck inside, I'm cramped up, my knees to my chest, my neck was down, hands together, and each second passed I felt the box shrinking.

It’s like going to a horrendous night again. This time, I didn’t care if it rained. I looked at Dad hoping he could hear my heart breaking into pieces because of what he said.

Finally, Dad stood up, he had not removed his gaze on me and I might have looked like a little puppy begging for him to take back his words, but he just stood there and didn’t even move a muscle to pat me.

“Move away from us as soon as possible. I don’t want you lingering around here and doing stuff, now that your mother has died, you're nothing but a homeless child now.”

My mouth flung open, dad left the room, but he didn’t forget to get a bottle of rum on his wine rack, he must’ve been counting the days to tell me that. I have tried to understand the situation of my family for the past few days. I thought maybe, as the eldest daughter, I needed to overcome what I’m feeling and be there for my siblings. I caught myself tangled up with emotions when I cleaned the dishes in the sink or water the plants, but the dreaded truth that my father wanted to reveal the moment mom died broke me. I feel betrayed and hurt. Now that I look into it, mom’s hiding my birth certificate, but Ashton and Andrea’s were at the office. When I asked her for mine she'd reply that it was in their room and that she'd get it, but she never returned after she said that instead she'd either water the plants or peel an apple in the kitchen, until the day ended and I forgot about it. It became clear now that the reason why she couldn’t give it was because Richard wasn’t my dad.

I might’ve sniffed loudly and got the attention of the two who were staring at me with pity.

“Dad must be lying,” Ashton said, but Andrea stood up and drank from her glass before walking out. “I don’t think so…”

“Andrea! What do you know?” Ashton caught up. He walked to Andrea and pulled her arm sharply.

“Dad isn’t lying. Look, Dad is a serious man and after mom died, he became rather distant towards us. And no matter how Brandi tried to take us back together as a family, we can’t! We just can’t because she is not part of the family now.”

“Our mom just died two weeks ago, what are you saying? Brandi is our sister!”

That’s the last straw. I confided in the small storage behind the stairs and nuzzled myself. There’s a small window here that overlooks the night, the pavement is sparkling from the light-shaped lanterns that we once made as a family one night as our bonding. Mom enthusiastically decorated our front yard with them, but as I see them now, those lanterns were not a family bonding anymore. Mom just died and Dad made a fool out of himself for saying I’m not his child.

I’m not going to accept that, there’s just a lot on dad’s mind that it jumbled together. I slept on the stairs that night, snuggled up to my thin clothes and wishing that it was all just a dream.

I woke up around nine in the morning and found the dinner wares still in their respective places and the rotten food that was in it. It was an indication that no one cleaned it and what happened last night was real. Nevertheless, I tried to brush it off and clean myself, I wore my school uniform and had a thick cardigan over it, I’m still allowed to not attend class, no one’s going to expect me there but I don’t want to wear my everyday clothes from the house, not with what’s happening right now.

It's crazy when the thing you hate the most is the one who gives the most comfort. Clothes should not be the one you turn when angry, they’re fabric you wear every day –part of the everyday things you should use.

I remember mom always wears clothes that are vintage at some point. She likes old clothes, floor-length dresses and skirts, booths, and scarf. Her favorite scarf was hanging behind their bedroom door. I slowly went into the room. The master’s bedroom gives off the feeling of comfortableness and the scent of lavender, a familiar scent that mom’s closet emits. Because she died unexpectedly, no one had any idea what to do next. Even the neighbors never helped us. We couldn’t get to the funeral, much less for mom’s burial, without asking for help from the officials. They said that mom’s clothes should be discarded as soon as she gets to her resting place, but I don’t like the idea of taking mom away from our home, and maybe dad felt that too, even if he talked nonsense at yesterday’s dinner. I know dad feels the same way towards mom.

I entered her walk-in closet and found her jewelry and clothes still left untouched. I could still see her on the vanity as she applied lipstick and her roaring twenties outfit giving off a loose silhouette and smooth waxed legs. I closed the door on her walk-in closet with a smile and searched for her light purple scarf. It’s supposed to be behind the door but I saw it on the floor near the double king-sized bed. As I was wrapping it around me and twirling a little bit, a squinted eyes caught me frozen on the ground.

“Dad.” I must’ve ticked something inside him, his eyes blazed with fire and his hand baled into a fist.

“Don’t call me that!” He marched on my way and pulled mum’s scarf from my neck. “I told you I am not your dad!”

As the shock got rid of me, I pulled the scarf closer, hearing a ripping sound and dad almost strangling me. “Listen, if I hear you again call me that, I’ll make sure that I put you down together with your mom to the grave.” He pointed at me and walked to his walk-in closet, he took another look at me and snarled, “don’t even think about getting something from your mom’s closet, if I saw some jewelry missing in there, you’ll be the one to blame.”

My breathing hitched and I threw the ripped scarf on the floor. “I’m not going to take anything from mom! If something’s missing in there! Blame your daughter! She’s been eyeing mom’s jewelry since last week!”

That day also, I went to see a social worker through the help of my neighbors and got hold of my real birth certificate to confirm that Richard is really not my dad.

I don't know if the neighbors have already found their missing things in our house after the funeral, or haven't. Either way, my focus should be on finding out if Dad was telling the truth.

I know that people suffer from depression after losing someone, much more if their loved one suddenly passed away, but hasn't Dad realized that mom is my loved one also? And we, his remaining family, needed him the most?