Skinny Jeans Have No Place On These Thighs
Daddy's Girl
"It can't be midnight," I say nervously. Marcus extends his wrist and I take it gingerly, peering at the digital face on the clock. It's flashing a dirty revelation at me.
"I have to go!" I wriggle out of Marcus's arms, straightening my top where Marcus had been trying to pull it up.
"What, now?" Marcus leans back, sounding shocked. "What's the point? You may as well stay over."
"I can't!" I cry. "My Mum will kill me."
"But you're already late," wheedles Marcus persistently, linking my hand through his. "If you're going to get your Mum mad, then really give her something to be mad at, right?"
He's stroking my fingers now.
In a twisted way, he's got a point. I am already way past my bedtime. I may as well really - well, you know.
So, I get back down and Marcus starts trying it on again. It gets heavier this time; his breathing different; more urgent; groaning. I'm not into it.
We snort more lines. The music goes back on again.
"So, have you heard anything from your Dad yet?" asks Marcus. I blink at him in surprise. To be honest, I thought he would have forgotten about my Dad. "It's been a while now hasn't it?"
"Six months," I repeat, with no expression at all.
"God, are you joking? Six months? Kid, I'm sorry." Marcus takes my hand again only this time it's slower; I don't think it's leading to anything. He's got a sad little expression on his face. "Christ . . . If I hadn't seen my Dad in six months, I would be a wreck. Seriously, a complete mess."
I couldn't help wondering at what Marcus considered to be the factors in being 'a mess'. Apparently cocaine was not on the list.
"I would go nuts. Not be able to function right. If I ever go to university or travelling or something it's going to be hard to leave him."
I'm touched by Marcus's honesty. Most guys in their teens don't really get on with their parents. And if they do, they don't talk about them like this. It's 'uncool' or whatever.
"You and your Dad get on well, huh?"
"The best. We're just best mates. He's my total hero. I can't imagine what it must be like for you. Were you a Daddy's girl?"
"What?"
"Oh, I just mean were you two close?"
I nod. I don't think I want to talk about this anymore but Marcus opening up like this is worth the inner stabbings.
I want to hear what he's thinking about.
"Sorry, the last thing you probably want to hear about is how well me and my Dad get on when your Dad is . . . what did he do Ella? Why is he on the 'Most Wanted' list. Because if he's anything like you, I don't see how he can be."
"People . . . people think he told someone something, which he didn't," I explain. I don't elaborate though. I haven't even thought it much myself. Well, of course I have. That's a stupid thing to say. Six months ago it was all I could think about.
I mean, I don't think about it much now. Because it's easier to try and forget about it. There's no sense in thinking about it all the time because there's nothing I can do. I don't know where he is. I can't go and find him. I wouldn't know where to start.
"What, some sort of government secret?
I laugh a little at that! Like my Dad would know any of them! "No, just a secret. I'm not even sure what it was."
That's a lie right there.
"Did you two hang out very much?"
"All the time. My Dad had funny working hours so it meant he was always around. We'd do stuff every day."
I hadn't been a Daddy's Girl. I had been THE Daddy's Girl. The two of us were inseparable. We'd go to the park and play football; we'd play board games and he'd set pillow forts in the living room for us to hide in; when I got a little older, we'd go for weekends away, just the two of us. My Mum could never get the time off work so we'd just go.
He took me to Euro Disney and because I was too scared to go on Space Mountain, we'd spend all day on the Teacups and having our pictures taken with the characters walking around and in the evening, he'd let me stay up late with him while he watched TV and had naughty cigarettes out of the window.
After school on Mondays, after I'd done my homework, take me to the Chinese restaurant at the end of the road to practice using chop sticks. I remember the day he gave me my own set.
I have no idea where they are now. I don't know where the photographs are either because Mum has hidden them all. She mentioned that she'd be back late tonight because she had a long meeting.
I feel really bad right now. Like I'm about to cry. I sort of want to cry in front of Marcus just he'll comfort me. But when I look over at him, he's snorting another line off the case for Happy Gilmore and lying back down to turn the music onto DJ Shadow.
"I have to go!" I wriggle out of Marcus's arms, straightening my top where Marcus had been trying to pull it up.
"What, now?" Marcus leans back, sounding shocked. "What's the point? You may as well stay over."
"I can't!" I cry. "My Mum will kill me."
"But you're already late," wheedles Marcus persistently, linking my hand through his. "If you're going to get your Mum mad, then really give her something to be mad at, right?"
He's stroking my fingers now.
In a twisted way, he's got a point. I am already way past my bedtime. I may as well really - well, you know.
So, I get back down and Marcus starts trying it on again. It gets heavier this time; his breathing different; more urgent; groaning. I'm not into it.
We snort more lines. The music goes back on again.
"So, have you heard anything from your Dad yet?" asks Marcus. I blink at him in surprise. To be honest, I thought he would have forgotten about my Dad. "It's been a while now hasn't it?"
"Six months," I repeat, with no expression at all.
"God, are you joking? Six months? Kid, I'm sorry." Marcus takes my hand again only this time it's slower; I don't think it's leading to anything. He's got a sad little expression on his face. "Christ . . . If I hadn't seen my Dad in six months, I would be a wreck. Seriously, a complete mess."
I couldn't help wondering at what Marcus considered to be the factors in being 'a mess'. Apparently cocaine was not on the list.
"I would go nuts. Not be able to function right. If I ever go to university or travelling or something it's going to be hard to leave him."
I'm touched by Marcus's honesty. Most guys in their teens don't really get on with their parents. And if they do, they don't talk about them like this. It's 'uncool' or whatever.
"You and your Dad get on well, huh?"
"The best. We're just best mates. He's my total hero. I can't imagine what it must be like for you. Were you a Daddy's girl?"
"What?"
"Oh, I just mean were you two close?"
I nod. I don't think I want to talk about this anymore but Marcus opening up like this is worth the inner stabbings.
I want to hear what he's thinking about.
"Sorry, the last thing you probably want to hear about is how well me and my Dad get on when your Dad is . . . what did he do Ella? Why is he on the 'Most Wanted' list. Because if he's anything like you, I don't see how he can be."
"People . . . people think he told someone something, which he didn't," I explain. I don't elaborate though. I haven't even thought it much myself. Well, of course I have. That's a stupid thing to say. Six months ago it was all I could think about.
I mean, I don't think about it much now. Because it's easier to try and forget about it. There's no sense in thinking about it all the time because there's nothing I can do. I don't know where he is. I can't go and find him. I wouldn't know where to start.
"What, some sort of government secret?
I laugh a little at that! Like my Dad would know any of them! "No, just a secret. I'm not even sure what it was."
That's a lie right there.
"Did you two hang out very much?"
"All the time. My Dad had funny working hours so it meant he was always around. We'd do stuff every day."
I hadn't been a Daddy's Girl. I had been THE Daddy's Girl. The two of us were inseparable. We'd go to the park and play football; we'd play board games and he'd set pillow forts in the living room for us to hide in; when I got a little older, we'd go for weekends away, just the two of us. My Mum could never get the time off work so we'd just go.
He took me to Euro Disney and because I was too scared to go on Space Mountain, we'd spend all day on the Teacups and having our pictures taken with the characters walking around and in the evening, he'd let me stay up late with him while he watched TV and had naughty cigarettes out of the window.
After school on Mondays, after I'd done my homework, take me to the Chinese restaurant at the end of the road to practice using chop sticks. I remember the day he gave me my own set.
I have no idea where they are now. I don't know where the photographs are either because Mum has hidden them all. She mentioned that she'd be back late tonight because she had a long meeting.
I feel really bad right now. Like I'm about to cry. I sort of want to cry in front of Marcus just he'll comfort me. But when I look over at him, he's snorting another line off the case for Happy Gilmore and lying back down to turn the music onto DJ Shadow.
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Again, thanks for reading guys!What did you think of this chapter? Was it a bit too sad?