Father and Daughter

The last week of my summer flew by and before I knew it, I was walking through the front doors of Aether Falls High. The school was a massive brick structure with two floors. It was well kept, especially the thriving, green perimeter. There were more students than I had anticipated and seeing them caused me to hesitate as I got out of the Chevelle.

“You’ll be alright, Mina,” Dan said as I peeked out of the window. He placed his hand on my shoulder. “If you need anything, just call.”

I sighed. “Okay...” I reached for the door handle and opened the door. I clutched the strap of my backpack and stepped out of the car. I turned around and waved goodbye to Dan. “I love you,” I told him.

“I love you,” he said, grinning.

A sudden eruption of laughter caused me to look over my shoulder. A group of five girls sitting on a nearby bench were staring at me, amused by my expression of love for Dan. I expected them to start insulting me, but all they did was stare me down and whisper about me like I was some creature from another planet.

“Don’t worry about them, Mina,” Dan said. He gave me a reassuring smile. “You’ll do just fine.”

I nodded and gave him a final wave. He drove off and I watched the Chevelle disappear down the street, feeling nothing but melancholy and fear. I began to walk down the sidewalk, towards the main path to the school, and the girls watched me intently while snickering about something.

I passed through the entrance of Aether Falls High and was greeted by the bold letters that read, “OFFICE” on a door to my left. I walked in, finding the office to be as dead as a desert. Only one woman was sitting at the center desk, typing loudly on the outdated computer in front of her.

“Hi,” I said as I approached the desk. “I’m--”

“Mina Kaufmann, right?” she interrupted.

I nodded with hesitance. I wasn’t used to having a last name. My birth surname had rarely been used and for a moment, I had almost forgotten it. I wouldn’t repeat it or go by it ever again. Just thinking about the name caused me pain. I felt more secure with Dan’s last name.

Without looking away from the computer screen, she reached over into a small, note card box and pulled out a slip of paper. “This is your schedule.”

“Thank you,” I said, taking the paper and seeing my name in the top left corner. I began to back away from the desk awkwardly as she continued to type. “Have a good day...” I said.

“You, too.”

I clutched onto my schedule and inched through the crowded, main corridor. No one seemed to be paying attention to me and I was glad about it. Everyone seemed to be scattered into their own little groups, chatting away about whatever interested them. I picked up bits and pieces of what they were talking about as I passed by. School sucked; the classes this year sucked; everything just sucked.

I looked down at the first class on my schedule:

English Literature II - Room 213 - M. Conway

I sighed as I shoved the slip of paper into my pocket. I knew that I would be reading Shakespeare throughout the following school year. I didn’t get Shakespeare. There was no way someone could understand his words without dissecting each and every line.

I dreaded up the stairs to the second floor and turned my head, searching for the correct room. My shoulders were bumped by a few ignorant passersby, but I naturally moved towards an empty spot next to the lockers that lined the endless hallway. My eyes averted to the East end of the hall, wondering which direction to go.

“Need some help finding a class?”

I glanced over my shoulder and saw a girl that towered above me at an unusual height. She was extremely pale and had dyed black hair that matched almost everything she was wearing. The tiny crucifix attached to her velvet choker dangled from her recent movements, the red gem embellishments beaming underneath the artificial lights of the hallway. There were two rings around her left eyebrow and three rings around the upper cartilage of her right ear. Her pixie-cut hair was styled with gel, giving it a cartoon-like look.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m looking for room 213.”

She pointed in the direction I had been looking and said, “It’s down the hall. I’m going there, too.”

We walked slowly down the hall, dodging the other students that stood in our way. I watched the girl pace ahead of me and admired her unique sense of fashion and carefree mannerism. “What’s your name?” I asked meekly as we got closer to the classroom.

“Andrea,” she said, her icy blue eyes finding mine. “What’s yours?”

“Mina.”

She stopped in front of the open classroom door and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mina.”

I took her hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you, too, Andrea.”

Andrea turned and entered the classroom, my footsteps following after hers. She picked a seat in the front--something I hadn’t expected at all. I plopped awkwardly into the seat next to her and looked to the teacher’s desk to get a glimpse of who was going to get me through a year of Shakespeare.

Behind the desk sat a man that looked to be in his early thirties. He was leaning back in a leather computer chair, reading a small notebook he held in his left hand. He was just as pale as Andrea and had the same shade of blue eyes. If it weren’t for his completely different facial structure, I would have thought they were related. He was dressed in a white button-up shirt that was rolled up to his pointy elbows, squeezing around the girth of his biceps. The chocolate brown tie around his neck brought out the other colors in his eyes and I was completely taken aback.

“He’s pretty hot, isn’t he?” a ghosted whisper said.

I looked to my right and saw Andrea smirking at me. I nodded in agreement and chuckled. She turned her head back to fix her gaze on Mr. Conway.

“You know him already?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah... He’s the teacher that supports the Creative Writing club. I was in it last year.”

The seats around us began to fill up and the classroom was getting noisy. By the time the bell rang, Mr. Conway had set down his notebook and risen from his seat. His stature was only a couple of inches above Andrea’s and he stood with impeccable balance.

His eyes scanned over the entirety of the class and when his gaze passed me, I took a breath of relief. But my luck had fooled me. He took a second glance at me only seconds later and approached me. When he was only a few feet from where I sat, he said, “I haven’t seen you around before... Are you a new resident?”

A good majority of the classroom snuffed their conversations and I could feel their eyes closing in on me. I looked up at Mr. Conway while my cheeks reddened and nodded. “Yes.”

“Wow,” he said. “We haven’t had a new resident in a while... How are you liking the town so far?”

“It’s great,” I said. “I really like it here.”

“Where are you from?”

“Um, well, I was born in Lucretia...” my voice trailed off as a look in his eyes indicated that I didn’t need to finish the sentence. He just nodded his head and smiled at me. “That’s cool. Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it here. Not many of us do.”

A few students in the class hollered about their hatred towards Aether Falls and Mr. Conway hushed them. He turned away and went back to his place at the front of the classroom. He knocked his hand on the whiteboard behind him, which consisted of a nicely written explanation of what we would be covering over the year. He began by introducing himself and then went on to briefly explain each of the book titles and essay prompts on the board.

Three Shakespeare titles were written amongst the various selections. The Merchant of Venice, Julius Caesar, and Much Ado About Nothing. I furrowed my eyebrows at the thought of reading those plays until Mr. Conway mentioned something that made the study more interesting.

“Some of you might know that I assist the student playwrights and really love theatre,” he said. “This summer, the drama teachers influenced me to let you guys act out the Shakespeare plays we read. You won’t have to memorize the lines or dress up--it’s just for fun...”

Several exasperated whispers--blatantly from girls--sounded throughout the room. I was sure they were talking about wanting to be the center of attention and I didn’t have a problem with it. Staying out of the limelight was exactly what I wanted.

By the time class was over, we were let off without a homework assignment--which satisfied most of us--but were warned about the start of The Merchant of Venice tomorrow morning. Andrea and I were exiting the classroom when Mr. Conway called for me.

I stopped in my tracks, staring at Andrea like a deer in headlights. She gave me a small smile and said, “I’ll be waiting in the hall.”

I approached Mr. Conway’s desk and he leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his polished desk. “You told me that you’re from Lucretia, correct?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“I am, too,” he said. “And I’m so sorry if this seems a bit front, but were you an orphan before you moved here?”

The blood drained from my face and my lips formed an anxious frown. I wasn’t able to see if there were any bad intentions behind his words--considering that I couldn’t read people at all--and I contemplated walking out of the room without saying anything.

“I was...” I finally said. “Why?”

“So it really is you...”



When the opening week of school was over, I started my first day at Myla’s. Dan told me that he would love to have another staff member on board and I was the most promising candidate. Luckily, the uniform was but a simple burgundy t-shirt with the shop name embroidered on the back. When I pinned my name tag carefully to the left breast of the shirt, I felt sudden triumph. I was truly beginning to feel like I was growing up.

Dan opened the glass front door of Myla’s like a computer going through the motions of a basic start up. The gold, hand-painted script on the glass was beginning to fade as if it hadn’t been retouched in years.

My attention narrowed and I was suddenly absent as I entered the shop, trailing behind Dan. My eyes were still on the door, intently observing every curve of the handwritten letters.

I imagined Myla standing there, painting the letters contently while Dan watched her from the dusty, barren interior, reminding himself of how much he loved her. Their eyes eventually met and they grinned at each other through the glass.

“... Mina?”

I turned, whipping my vision in the direction of Dan’s voice, and bumped into his torso with a loud smack. I gasped, apologizing immediately and laughing in embarrassment. He placed his hands on my shoulders and asked me if I was alright.

“Yeah... Were you saying something?” I asked. “I’m sorry, I was just... distracted.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I was pointing out which doors lead to where.” He pointed to the hallway behind the cash register. The walls were painted a lighter red, giving off a calming, vibrant sensation. “The back exit is straight back; my office is to the left; the stock room is right next to it; and in case you need to use the restroom on your break, it’s the black door on the right.”

“I like the color scheme in here,” I said randomly, checking out the various items on the shelves and inside the glass display cases.

“Myla picked the colors,” he said, sending chills along my arms.

I gazed at him sympathetically. “Sorry...”

“Don’t, it’s okay,” he said, pacing slowly about the room. “I’m just glad she didn’t make it all pink like Destiny would have.”

We both laughed, but I was stifled with guilt. It had been weeks since Myla and Destiny were directly mentioned by Dan. There was pain lingering in his posture and despite his effort to hide it, I could feel it radiating from him.



Our shifts were almost over when I was lifting a box onto a pile in the stock room. Several customers had come in, but there were no sales. Dan did most of the talking to show me how he handled the vast array of customers. An old woman, with a nose shaped like a parrot’s beak, sold him a collection of old music boxes that she had collected over the years but had no use for. Dan paid her a generous, couple hundred dollars--mainly for her years of collection endeavors she had told him about in lengthy tales.

The stock room wasn’t too cluttered, but it still gave me a claustrophobic feeling. The music boxes didn’t seem like much, but when I took the package into my arms, the weight seemed to match a young child’s. When I finally lugged it on top of one of the other boxes that was as tall as my waist, I yelped and fell back.

A surging pain pulsated throughout my right forearm and I clutched onto it while my tailbone tingled from my fall.

Fast footsteps pattered from the main room to the hall. “Mina, are you alright?” Dan exclaimed, helping me to my feet. “What happened?”

“My arm,” I said weakly. “It hurts.”

“Did you fall on it?”

“No, I broke it a long time ago... Sometimes it still hurts when I lift things. I don’t think it ever fully healed.”

“I see...” Dan nearly whispered. “Well, I’ve locked up the shop, so we can go home now.” He reached for a light switch behind him while I pushed open the back door.

The drive home was unusually silent and though it was only a minute drive to the house, the stillness seemed to stretch out for hours. The Chevelle’s resonant hum was severed when Dan shut off the engine. We entered the house and I flipped most of the lights on while Dan asked me what I wanted for dinner.

“Anything will do,” I said, taking a seat on the couch. I turned on the TV to reveal a national newscaster reporting a financial crisis on Wall Street. The story failed to interest me, but I watched anyway.

Dan entered the living room with a blue ice pack and sat beside me. “May I see your arm?” he asked, holding out his hand. I nodded and placed my forearm into his open palm. The freezing pack against my skin caused me to jolt in surprise and goosebumps formed along my arm.

“Is it starting to feel better?” Dan asked, tracing the pack along the girth of my forearm.

“Yeah,” I said. “Thank you.”

“How did you break it?”

I had already seen the question coming, but didn’t prepare myself to answer it. I thought, for a moment, back to that specific day. The feeling of swinging so high in the air on a beat up tire had been so simple, yet satisfying to me. But the tire had only served as a vessel to the next ten years of practical imprisonment.

“I fell off the tire swing my father had built me. I got scared of the...” I paused and blinked madly while I stared at the floor. I could still hear the gunshot, clear as day, and the following crack from the moment I landed on the grass.

“The gunshot that killed your father,” Dan said, filling in my unfinished sentence.

I nodded.

“I’m so sorry about that, Mina,” he went on. “It’s sad that a man so brave like him died the way he did.”

I fired a glare into Dan’s eyes and shoved the ice pack away. “Is that a joke?” I asked sharply. “He was nothing but a coward.”

Dan rose his eyebrows in awe and shook his head. “How could you say that about the man who died defending you from a thief? He saved your life, Mina...”

A pause followed his words and it took me a moment to recollect myself. “What the hell are you talking about? He wasn’t murdered.” Before he could speak, I opened my mouth again. “Did Sister Margaret tell you that my dad was murdered?” My voice was beginning to sound monotonous and I forced myself not to cry.

“Yes,” he said. “She told me that someone was trying to rob your house and saw you through the window and threatened to kill you if your father didn’t give them what they wanted. Then your father fought the person in order to defend you.”

I rose from my seat and stomped over to the unlit fireplace next to the TV. I scoffed in disbelief. “I can’t believe she would lie to you...” I said, clenching my fists and ignoring the pain in my arm.

Dan was silent for a couple of minutes before he began to speak to me again. “Mina... What really happened to your father?”

I took a deep breath and turned to face him. “He killed himself... Blew his brains out.” A tear dripped from my eye. “He blew his brains out when he promised he would come outside and play with me, a naive child who couldn’t see that he was in pain...” My last few words were almost impossible to understand due to my sobbing that erupted suddenly.

Before I could take another breath, I was wrapped in Dan’s arms and he hushed me. For a few moments, he held me until I was calm and my tears were beginning to disappear. I stepped out of his arms and sighed somberly.

“... reporting a predator at large named Logan Mercer, a twenty-one year old student from San Diego, California...”

Dan and I both threw our attention at the TV and listened in on the news. The face displayed in the upper right corner of the screen forced my heart into a flutter.

“... Mercer is said to have been last seen in downtown San Diego, seemingly upset while talking on his cell phone. Ever since Mercer was nineteen, he has been charged with multiple counts of statutory rape and assault...”

“Dan...” I managed to whisper. “He’s out there. He’s going to find me.” I backed away from the TV and began to hyperventilate. Dan reached out and told me to calm down.

I squeezed my eyes shut from the pounding pulse in my head and opened them to only see everything spinning around me.

Then everything went black.