Carter's Beloved

Twists and Turns

"Yes, I'll be there in a few hours." I inform Father over the phone. He closes the phone call, and I jump in excitement. Standing outside the small brown cottage, weeds creeping up on it's door. The small garden in front looks unkempt, with the pond filled with frogspawn and cattails. His car is parked outside the small cottage.

The smell of honeysuckle lingers in the air, the door of the house has a large knocker on it. Knocking twice loudly, I stand still waiting for Father to open the door. I decided to surprise him by visiting him in the countryside, on the weekend earlier than he expected.

Hearing shuffling on the other side of the door, I quickly fix my hair. The door doesn't open for several moments, so I knock again. Becoming impatient, I raise my hand to knock loudly again when the door is opened with a sudden wrench. Taking a few steps back in surprise, my eyes land on Father's face.

"Surprise!" I yell. His reaction was the total opposite of what I imagined. Instead of a hearty smile and pulling me into a warm hug, he frowned and motioned me to walk inside. Following him into his house, slightly crestfallen,  I hoped for a better welcome than this but what can you expect surprising someone out of the blue.

"Could have informed me that you were coming home early." He said gruffly, pointing me to a seat and sitting opposite it. The house is small but nicely decorated with a brown colour scheme. The walls adorned with pictures of our family; I spot childhood and school photographs of me along with my friends. I look for Mom's pictures but I can't find any, only ones with me and Father. The brown table placed in front of the orange sofa I'm sitting down, has an odd assortment of objects.

Black bags, scissors and a shovel. I look at Father hoping for an explanation, and he twists awkwardly.

"Trying out gardening these days, heaven knows the garden could do with a little TLC." He says. After glancing again at the supplies, he stands up and enters the kitchen. I look around the house, and it's fairly well kept, especially for the fact it's just Father living alone.

"Are you doing well?" I ask, out of awkwardness. Something feels off, if I met Father a few months ago, he wouldn't stop pestering me with questions if I'm doing well or not, but now he's acting cold. Trying to push this thought out of mind, I stand up and follow him into the kitchen where he stands next to the teapot staring out of the small kitchen window.

"Yes, really busy these days. Volunteering at the community center nearby, learning pottery." He says quietly, staring out of the window into the garden with overgrown weeds. I nod and look at him, hoping he looks into my eyes, he's been avoiding my eyes ever since I came.

"Oh, we can go right now." I offer with a small smile, hoping he accepts. He turns, as if he was just aware that I'm standing behind him. He shakes his head and empties the tea pot, into a mug and gives it to me. Taking it, he walks out in a daze and sits down, clenching his fists and releasing them. I sit down in my previous position glancing nervously, wondering if I came on the wrong time.

"The landlord called me." He speaks so quietly, that I wouldn't have noticed he spoke but I saw his lips move.  He stares at his hands and continues.

"He told me that after you visited our house... he found a large hole which was dug out of his front garden. Pretty angry he was. You should have told me you were going back to the house, and who told you to dig their garden up?" He spoke in a high pitched voice, apparent that he was angry with my actions.

"I had to go, to check something." I mumbled looking down at the white tea mug, daring to take a sip out of the sickly sweet tea, and instantly regretting it.

"Why did you dig the lawn?" He asks louder than before, and I realize, danger circles around me, so I tread carefully.

"I had to check something, I told you." I reply nonchalantly, standing my ground. Father should not be asking me about this, instead I should be asking about his weird behaviour.

"Do you still think about...that night? I told you, it was a dream. Why did you go back 7 years later, only to dig up soil? Did you want to prove that I dug your mother there?" He questions furiously. His face is red, signifying his rising temper. A pit in my stomach forms, only to be filled with molten anger. I want to scream at him, that yes, I think he is the murderer.

Taking a deep breath, I set the mug down and look into his eyes.

"Yes, I do. I went there to check whether it was a dream or not. It wasn't. I found something." I end mysteriously. His hand quivers over his knee, and his eyes shake.

"What-What do you mean? There was nothing there." He says delicately.

"Yes there was!" It's my turn to scream now," I found something. Bones." The words have an instant effect on him. He stands up, and wipes the sweat above his brow. Moving quickly, he paces around the room. I stand up.

"You're lying! Who knows where those bones came from? You dare raise your voice to your own father!" He yells. The cottage becomes eerily quiet. Hesitating, I wonder if I should tell him that I suspect him, but it could not be him. He still grieves for Mother and refuses to hang any photos of her, out of despair.

"Yes! You're asking me questions? What have you been up to? You behave strangely and god knows what you're up to!" I exclaim. Father sits down clutching his hair, and I glare at him suspiciously. These are not the actions of an innocent person, something must be going on, I tell myself.

"I've been busy! Do you suspect me for the death of god knows whose bones you found hidden?" He asks incredulously. I shake my head is disbelief, wondering how to answer this question? I decide to tell the truth.

"No! Of course not. You've been acting weird recently and now are freaking out when I tell you what I did, it's really suspicious!" I told him a half truth. He sees right through my lies and sighs. He stops pulling his hair out and waits for several moments before composing himself and talking in a calm manner.

"Is that so? Well I'm sorry, maybe next time you can say what you wanted freely, rather than for me to assume things. And don't hesitate to ask me anything; I'm your father at the end of the day." He says in a really good attempt in keeping his voice flat.

"Then answer what have you been up to. I wonder if you're really using these supplies for gardening or for something else." I glance at the supplies, giving him a look. He scoffs and looks at me.

"What else would I be doing with these? Stalking someone? Do you not trust me?" Father asks in a row, his eyes twinkling

"I don't know! Why are you so stressed even if I dug some old garden up? It's not like the owner gives a damn except to complain." I say the things I've been thinking about. His eyes dart around the room, but he finally looks up at me.

"I'm not. Just concerned why you're visiting the place where you have nothing but bad memories." His reasoning is not very convincing, and the doubt in my mind shows in my face. He stands up before telling me:

"Get out. If you can't pay respect to the man who brought you up; I'd rather you not be in my sight." He says in a final tone. My mouth hangs open. Father asking me to leave his house? We've never had such an argument before, especially on something so trivial. Although now it doesn't seem trivial anymore. 

"What is wrong with you? You question me and when I decide to do the same, you kick me out? Now even if I wasn't suspecting you in the beginning, I sure am now." I hiss before grabbing my coat from the stands and walking towards the front door.

"Yes! It's my fault now. I bet you're lying about the bones as well. Don't come back!" He screams, and those are the last words I hear when I'm through the door and out onto the porch. The living room curtains are still open and I see Father throwing down the cup of tea on the floor. Looking for the last time, I walk away.

Why did he behave that way? I never blamed anything on him, unless he has a guilty conscience. Thinking about this matter, I sit down on a bench, on an empty road surrounded by the lovely fields. If I wasn't so angry, I'd be looking at the beauty around me.

After some time and sips of water, I cool down and allow myself to think more calmly. I regret blaming Father and screaming at him, but he gave me no options. What is it my fault that I accused him? But he brought it up. I try to reason with myself, and come to a regretful conclusion. I must go and apologize for my actions. Maybe this was all a misunderstanding and I should go clear it up.

Thinking this, I walk back towards Father's house with a guilty feeling. I'm sure he's feeling the same way, I tell myself, we never fought before. Reaching his house and after walking past the familiar weeds, I glance through the living room window to find Father hastily wearing a black ski mask before grabbing something. I hide in the bushes against the walls which surround the house and wait. Soon enough Father comes out dressed in all black, I wouldn't be able to recognize him unless I knew the long build and slim figure which easily sat in his car, and drove off.

Left behind in pure shock, I sit in the bushes for a long time, wondering about what I just saw.