Craving my Dad's Best Friend

Two

Today can't be any worse as I stare at the endless and deserted road ahead of me. I've been driving for the past one hour, trying to locate the cabin I'm supposed to be going to. Wherever I am right now, it is empty. No houses, nothing and the wifi connection is s**t. I've tried a couple of times to ask my dad which one it is and how to get there but it's not going through.

I'm stranded with only a text message he had sent before I left my dorm. I'm starting to regret the idea of coming here for summer. Not only that Pete, my douchebag of a boyfriend, had just broken up with me, but I'm starving and stranded with no helper coming soon.

A minute later, luck finally came my way as I got a connection. I glanced over at the direction signal on my phone and realised the cabin I was supposed to go to should be around here. I'm close.

And finally, the cabin comes into a few after a few more minutes of driving. Despite my mood, though, the sight of the cabin sets off all kinds of nostalgic fireworks inside of me. The house is just what I remember. Old, small but comfortable enough to accommodate my parents and I. I can't believe I will lose my way coming down here. It's been ten years but nothing has changed. We stopped coming here for summer after mom passed away ten years ago. Dad said it reminded him of her presence. They got this place as their wedding present even before I was born. Mum loved sightseeing, so she chose the cabin to get away from the worries of the city.

I noticed a car was parked in the driveway and I wondered if dad changed his mind about coming. He said he would be here tomorrow and asked me to stay by myself for the night. I parked my car behind the car, shut the engine, then stepped out. The car is a black Audi.

Weird.

The last time I was home for Thanksgiving, dad had a black Range Rover. I wonder if he changed cars within that little time. A smile crept up to my face thinking I'll have to beg him to give me the Range Rover.

I decided to leave my bags in the booth, thinking I would take them out tomorrow. I'm so tired anyway. I shoved open the door. It’s dark, quiet inside and the smell of lasagna fills my nostrils, making my stomach grumble, reminding me that I haven't eaten anything all day. Thank God dad is cooking dinner already. I followed the aroma to the kitchen and found it empty.

"Dad, I'm here" I shouted, but heard no reply. Only the echo of my voice lingers on. Maybe he's upstairs unpacking. But first, priorities. I had to use the bathroom three hours ago. I pulled off my sweater, leaving me only in my armless shirt, and dropped it on the couch in the living room, which is barely large enough to hold a single two-person loveseat and one table.

As soon as I shove open the bathroom door, I freeze. My feet came to a halt on their own Accord.

It takes my brain a moment to catch up to what I’m seeing. A man standing there with his back to me, half-naked, with only a towel wrapped around his torso in the middle of taking a piss.

“Oh my God, I'm sorry! I didn't realize someone was here”, I gasped and slammed the door between us before he could turn around. That was close.

Who the hell was that? Is dad expecting someone and he forgot to tell me? Dad is not the type to forget any little detail. In fact, he called three times a day while I was in college. One in the morning to make sure I got up early and didn't miss my class. One in the afternoon to check up on me and one at night before going to bed. Well, that didn't explain why there was a stranger in the house and I almost walked in on him naked.

Where the hell is dad anyway? I moved away from the tiny hallway that leads to the bathroom and on my way to the living room when I noticed something. The light illuminated the tiny bedroom below the staircase. It used to be my room whenever we came here for summer holidays. I wonder if it still fits me. I gripped the handle and was about to open the door when I heard someone clear their throat behind me. I jumped away from it instantly and looked down, embarrassed I got caught.

"Annie?"

That voice….

I knew that voice so well. The voice in my head when I masturbate. The voice that had scolded me when I did things wrong. The last time I heard that voice was four years ago when he wished me a happy birthday and gave me my gift. Just before, I shoved the diary in his pocket. I turned around to face the person I hadn't imagined would be seeing this summer.