Facade

The morning I left was horrible, grey and unnaturally cold, as if warning me what was to come. A biting wind was pulling at everyone’s clothes and hair ferociously and to top it all off a depressing drizzle was slowly soaking our clothes as we stood outside to say goodbye. Despite what I was going to do, I couldn’t help but feel depressed as I stood before what was left of my family. The goodbye may have only been temporary, but it was still painful. I’d always sucked at goodbye’s.

Gran had never been an affectionate woman, the only real hugs I’d gotten from her that I remember was first when we found out, and she hugged me as the first flood of tears fell and then secondly at the funeral when we hugged for what seemed like hours and it seemed like it was only me and her in the world. She’d never hugged be since, and rarely before.

But she hugged me now, pulling me towards her with tears in her eyes. I hugged back automatically, breathing in deeply her scent – a mix of chanel perfume and cigarettes - as it would be the last time I saw her for a while and I needed to commit it to memory. I can’t say how long we stood there not speaking, but the chill had settled into my bones and I was shivering. We reluctantly pulled away from each other and I turned and walked away, gritting my teeth. If I had said anything then I knew I wouldn’t have been able to leave. I would have ended up in a heap on the floor, uncharacteristically begging to be allowed to stay.

I didn’t want to go, I didn’t want this fresh start that everyone said would be so good for me, and I definitely didn’t want to meet my deadbeat dad that I’d never even heard of before. I just knew that he would be overly cheery and insist on me hugging him, something that I hate. And just my luck he would probably bite his nails and crack his knuckles as well, driving me insane before we’d even got to his house. I knew he must feel like I was being forced on him – it was how I felt anyway. I wondered if he was as resentful of me as I was of him.

Two strangers, resenting each other without actually knowing the person behind ‘dad’ or ‘daughter’. I hated meeting new people and this was almost a hundred times worse. The people I was driving to meet six hours away were people that should mean something to me.
I hate making first impressions.

I also hate long car journeys. I get motion sickness and I hate sitting still for more than ten minutes and so I only just managed to get through the six hours with multiple rest stops. Car journeys also make me feel dirty and so the second I stepped out onto the beach car park where I’d been told to meet with my father for the first time – Joey, his name was – I had the urge to run and find the nearest shower. I managed to contain myself though, as I saw at the other end of the parking spaces there was a man. It was too far away to work out small features but he was wearing blue and had a beard. Oh great.

I really hoped he didn’t touch me, I hated the feel of facial hair against my skin. It gave me goose bumps, and not in a good way. I realised when he didn’t move that he expected me to come over to him so I quickly grabbed my few bags out of the car and locked it. Trudging slowly towards him it’s hard to describe how I felt. Mostly it was violent nerves. They were no longer butterflies in my stomach, they were wasps, angry and vengeful. I think there was hope there too, though. Hope that maybe this would change everything, that I could finally let go of the past and be happy. It was quickly cut short when he gave me a hug the second I was close enough though.

He didn’t give me a chance to put my bags down either, meaning the hug was very awkward and as he squeezed practically as hard as he could, suffocating. I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t because if I did it would have been something I probably would have regretted. Plus I wasn’t sure how long the hug would last and I didn’t want to waste my oxygen supply.T hankfully the hug didn’t last long and I was released.

“Rachel it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Up close I could finally see what he looked like. Tall, brown hair, strong jaw line, still handsome even with age. Looking up at him I could tell I got my green eyes from him – but I knew that anyway. There had never been any green eyes in my mother’s side of the family. He didn’t seem resentful of me at all, and unwillingly I could feel the small ball of hatred I had nurtured the whole of my life start to unravel a little bit at the sight of his smile. I’d always been awful at holding grudges, but it’s easier to do so against a man you’ve never met.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” I kept my tone polite yet distant on purpose. I didn’t want to get attached, what I’d learnt in my lifetime was that it only resulted in disaster. This man seemed like he could be very easy to get attached to and I didn’t like it at all.

“I was told you were beautiful, but wow, you really turned out to be something special.” I resisted an urge to snort at his obvious attempt at flattery. I could never be considered beautiful in my opinion. Tall and skinny with basically no figure, and extremely pale: ghostly white skin, white blonde hair and pale blue eyes, I didn’t see anything special when I looked in the mirror. I hated when people lied to me and wanted so badly to point that out but managed to force out a choked sort of thank you.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to hold the grudge after all. He seemed to sense my discomfort though and quickly changed the topic. “I’m so sorry to hear about what happened to Imogen. I know we never were on the best of terms, but I know how much that must of hurt you…Your Gran told me-“ He abruptly cut off when he saw my pained expression and shook his head as if reprimanding himself. This guy sure knew how to put his foot in his mouth.

“I live about a minute away, here let me help you with your bags.” He reached down to my hand and grabbed the biggest bag out of my hand. I was grateful for the weight it took off me, as the bag was slowly but surely cutting off circulation to my had. I flexed my hand quickly in the hope of returning feeling and offered a small smile in the way of thanking him. He seemed to get it, and led the way to his house. Even after he took one of them off me, the weight of the bags were killing me and so the one minute walk seemed a lot longer than it actually was. We didn’t talk on the way. It was awkward but I was used to that and the alternative of trying to make forced conversation seemed much worse to me.

The house he lived in was nice, the whole village of Angarrack (or what I’d seen of it) was nice. Way nicer than the dull suburbs where I’d used to live, rows upon rows of endless beige houses. When the grass grew longer than normal it had been almost a nice change, a mark on the face of uniformity. Here the houses had character. Some , the newer ones, were painted in bright, eye catching colours while the rest had old stone brickwork. Some even had ivy growing over them to add to the effect. I loved it, and hated myself for loving it at the same time. The air was cold, but the sky was clear. It looked like an idyllic beach village, and to the best of my knowledge it was. (Well, they do say ignorance is bliss.)

His house in particular was lovely. It was one of the older ones, stone brickwork, with ivy and some sort of flower growing up the side. But even the fact that it looked beautiful couldn’t distract me from the fact that this was my new home. I had to live here, I had no choice. Inside would probably be more of my family. My body recoiled in shock as I came to that realisation. How had I not thought of it before? The thought doubled my anticipation of entering, and I nervously asked about who Joey lived with. For a second I thought he grimaced, but it was quickly covered up if he did and it could have been my imagination anyway.

“I live with my wife, Beth and my Son Riley, he’s a year older than you I think. You’re 18, right?” I nodded tentatively, not looking forward to meeting my half brother or his wife. I wondered how they’d reacted to finding out he had another child. I doubt they would have been happy or supportive about it. Was that the reason for the possible grimace I’d just seen? I would have followed the train of thought further if it wasn’t for Joey opening the door and gesturing for me to go inside.

Right, I told myself. You can do this. Fail of a mini pep talk over, I took a deep breath and stepped inside. Joey gave me an encouraging smile as I did so, but I didn’t return it. It was time to meet my family.