The Past is Only the Future with the Lights On

"Kelly?" Frank asked, waving a hand in front of my face, only momentarily blinding me from the disturbing picture in front of me.

I didn't respond to him or even acknowledge what he'd just done, my wide eyes set on the fake-blonde clinging to my father's side.

"Merry Christmas, honey," my dad said, his eyes bright as he noticed my presence. "Love the hair," he smiled, walking towards me without his little arm magnet. Frank released my hand and stood next to his mom, whom I now noticed was having a light conversation with my grandma in the next room.

"I hope you've been behaving properly for your grandmother these past couple months and not giving her too much of a hard time," he grinned knowingly at me as he encased me in a hug.

It was like hugging a stranger, or someone you've just met, trying not to get too close to the person as to make it a little less uncomfortable. Shouldn't it have been the opposite, though? Both of us holding each other for going without seeing one another for such a long time?

He pulled away, and I scrutinized his features. His short, brown hair looked darker than how I last saw it, like he was dying it. Now, there's nothing wrong with that; I, obviously, dye my hair as well. But that was never his thing. In fact, he freaked the first time I dyed my hair.

Probably trying to hide the gray from his new lady friend.

His tired face held no difference, except maybe a couple worry lines in his forehead that had formed within the last couple seconds, upon noticing my stare on the other chick.

"Who's your friend?" I asked, trying to hide the evident curiosity that was eating at me inside.

He let out a sigh and glanced at the smiling woman briefly before connecting his eyes with mine again.

"Why don't we go sit down?" he offered, placing his large hand on my shoulder to start leading me to the living room.

This couldn't be good if he wanted me to sit down to tell me, what I was guessing to be, his 'surprise.'

"Why can't we stand?" I protested, trying to be as difficult as possible with this.

In some weird, sadistic way, I had that right; at least to some extent. Didn't I?

If he was going to unleash bad news on me, which, judging by his tone and how he wanted me to 'sit down' for this, I was sure he was, wasn't I entitled to make this some what easier for me? Even if my way was making this more difficult for him?

"Erm. . .okay," he sighed once more, the blonde, wearing a far too slutty dress for this holiday or weather, joining him by his side again.

"Kelly. . .this is Jenny. . .your future stepmother," he said uneasily.

That was his great way of telling me he was engaged? Not even bothering to lead up to it and mention how he met this girl and fell in love with her, eventually asking her to marry him? Just, "here's you future step mom?"

I stared at him blankly for about a minute, not sure what to say to that. "Oh, I'm so happy that you've moved on," and "I can't wait for the wedding!" didn't seem to work with how I was feeling at the moment. Something more like "Don't you think you should wait another four or ten years to start 'playing the field' again," or "Please excuse me for a moment while I go empty my stomach into the toilet and try to get that nasty image out of my head," seemed more appropriate.

"Kelly?. . .Aren't you going to say something?" my dad asked hopefully, biting his lip in a nervous habit.

I was fully aware of Frank and my grandma's stares on me, making me believe that they'd already been informed on my father's 'great news.' Or at least my grandma. I think if Frank had known he would have warned me beforehand while we were still in my bedroom.

Ah, my bedroom. That was the only rational place I wanted to be right now, because I was positive that my wishes of being swallowed into a black hole were not going to be granted.

Without so much as another glance in my father's direction, I turned on my heel and marched my way back upstairs. Ignoring the calls coming from my family, I went straight for my room, slamming it closed before locking it.

All the emotions I had been hiding from my father seemed to escape all at once at the very second as I place my back against the wall next to the door and slid down. Hugging my legs closely to my chest and resting my head on my knees, I allowed the tears of sadness, despair, loneliness and frustration to run down my cheeks.

Sadness because I hated thinking that my father no longer cared about my mom. That this was it. He was over her and had moved on.

Despair because I was sure there was nothing I could do about it. If he really loved this woman, he would marry her.

Loneliness because I was really beginning to believe that, outside of my friends and grandma, I didn't have anyone.

Now, that should have been enough for me; they were such a wonderful group of people that I was overly grateful were even a part of my life. But it wasn't. I wanted someone who could be more than a friend. But I couldn't have him; simply because he wouldn't have me. That I was sure of.

And frustration because I couldn't be mature about his and handle it downstairs with my father.

Instead, I was locked up in my room crying. One of the many reasons Frank wouldn't want me.

I tried to block out the voices of my father and grandma as they attempted to get me out of my room. After realizing I was not planning on coming out any time soon or even responding to them, thanks to my damn stubbornness, their voices stopped, only to be replaced minutes later by one I could never deny.

"Kel. . .You wanna let me in so we can talk this out?. . .I'm alone now," he told me, sincerity and compassion dripping from his words.

Sniffling, I reached my arm up and unlocked my door before shuffling back into place, bringing my legs to my chest once more.

I watched as the door opened, but no one entered.

"Kelly?" Frank said quietly, unable to see me.

"Over here," I whispered, a pathetic break in my voice from my crying.

The door closed again, this time Frank stepping in all the way, finally spotting me against the wall.

He was sat by my side in an instant, his arm wrapping comfortingly across my shoulder and his hand rubbing it soothingly. I couldn't help but collapse into his chest, thankful that such a loving person actually cared about me.

"I'm so sorry, Kelly. Your grandma didn't tell me until after we'd come down, otherwise I would have kept you my hostage up here forever," he chuckled, his light humor making me laugh as well.

I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of Frank, silently wishing that his words could have been reality.

"Gah, I can't believe how childish I'm being about this," I tried to laugh, wiping my tears with the back of my hand.

"No, you have every right to act like you did," he told me, bringing his other hand up and gently touching my face. "I know how you feel, having a parent remarrying someone else. . .of course, my father was a lot more considerate with my feelings when he told me. . ." He trailed off, hugging me closer to him.

In a way, I understood what he meant. Maybe if my dad hadn't just straight up told me he was getting married, I would have handled it better.

"Thanks, Frank," I sighed, lifting my head up from his chest against my will and kissing his cheek.

"Anytime, love. Anything to see you smile," he smiled himself, naturally putting a small smile of my own across my face. I was suddenly thankful that I had put on the longer lasting eyeliner, not that I had to worry about embarrassing myself with my looks in front of Frank. It just meant I didn't have to reapply some for the third time today. "Ready to go downstairs now?"

With a light nod of my head, the two of us rose to our feet, Frank grabbing my hand again.

As we entered the living room, I was immediately bombarded with questions and apologies from dad.

I turned to Frank, who shot me an encouraging smile and squeezed my hand reassuringly. Knowing he was there for me, I faced my father once more, a worried expression on his face.

"I'm sorry for my reaction, dad. I'm honestly happy for you. . .I just freaked, I guess. But I'm truly sorry," I told him, bending the truth a bit. Sure I was happy if he was happy, but I wasn't sorry for my reaction. This was going to take some time for me to get used to.

"I'm sorry, too, sweetie. You know how I can get when I have to talk about certain things."

Of course I did. That was why I was sent to Belleville in the first place - not that I regretted his decision in the least. He was just being too much of a pussy to actually talk to me about 'the game' or my sudden breakup with Brandon. Instead, he declared me the psycho-teenage girl with raging, uncontrollable hormones and shipped me off to the closest relative so he wouldn't have to deal with them.

There was a long, awkward pause in the room before grandma's sweet voice broke through it.

"So who's ready for some good, homemade Christmas cookin'? Italian style!" she said, receiving nods from the lot of us as we all shuffled into the dining room, mine and Frank's hands still conjoined.

I could seriously get used to this hand-holding thing Frank had taken a liking to recently.