crimson

We sat there talking for most of the morning, about my life and my moms. Laurie told me about what her and my dad were like growing up, how she had always wanted to get in contact with me but my father wouldn’t let her. I told her about how my mom had read me bedtime stories when I was a child. She was always a good actress and would sometimes act them out. Bedtime was always a fun time for me when I was little. I told her about how we would take trips every summer after school got out, and we would go somewhere new every year. I told her about the photo album my mom kept of me when I was a baby, my dad and my aunt where in lots of them. My mom told me all about my dad and Laurie.

“Aunt Laurie? Do you think now that I’m living with you my dad might... umm... you know, well, talk to me?” I saw the pain in my aunts eyes. Not for herself, but for me. I knew the answer before I asked, telling myself not to get my hopes up. But I realized I already had. When I saw the pain there I knew right away what her answer would be. I felt massive disappointment as I furiously blinked the tears away. I was not going to cry again.

“I’m sorry baby, but your dad stopped talking to me as soon as he found out that I had you.” I saw how much it hurt her to say it. It hurt her as much as it hurt me.

“It’s OK. I knew the answer before I asked. I just couldn’t help hoping.....” Tears sprang to her eyes now. I had made her cry. That just made me feel worse. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s OK hunny. Really, I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me. Now, about you taking those two weeks off.”

“I don’t think I should. I’ll be fine, really.”

“Stay home for at least a week then, that I will not budge on.”

“Fine.” I knew her determination by now. When she said something she meant it.