Sepia Film Reels

"Dad?" she called into the seemingly empty apartment.

She felt awfully stuffy in the living room, despite the high ceilings and minimal design. She opened two of the ceiling to floor windows at the side of the room. A few flakes of snow skimmed into the apartment, she vowed to mop that up later.

"Oh! Hi, Cupcake. I'm just finishing up a review for that new Batman movie, then I'll be in with you," her Father smiled warmly. "Then you're going to tell me all about your date!"

"It wasn't a date, Dad!" she laughed, pulling off her scarf.

She tossed the woolen snake onto the couch and turned on the television. The heating was on, so the apartment was warm and cosy. There was literally nothing on, so she just put on MTV for some background noise as she got up and made herself a hot chocolate.

"Won't be a moment, Sweetheart. Fancy fixing me a cup while you're at it?"

She smiled to herself, pleased to be home.

"Coming righ' up."

The coffee and chocolate machine was slightly daunting. The huge piece of metallic machinery was wider then her and taller than her on the counter. Countless buttons shone out like beady eyes, tempting her to press them all at once. Silver arms waved wildly at her.

'Just the red one, then turn the dial, then the green one.'

The beast slumped back into it's inanimate form. She grinned, rather proud she had conquered the ravid animal. She almost forgot the cups, she quickly slid them into position before the stream of chocolate arced from the tubes.

"Ooh! Put in those little marshmellows!" her Father squealed childishly as he entered the room.

She leant over the counter and retrieved them from the shelf.

"You want cinammon as well?"

"Yes please!"

She laughed as she shook the cinammon over both drinks. She passed the cup to her Dad and walked back in to the living room, tactfully avoiding his questioning.

"Hold up, no drinks on the couches, you know Mom's rules," Michael reminded, instantly switching from intrigued child to wise Father.

She sighed defeatedly, slinking back in to the room. Michael was playing with the melted marshmallow. He smushed the sweet between his fingers then pulled them apart, so the candy turned in to a stringy... liquid-sort-of-thing. She felt a strange notion she was watching her Brother, instead of her Father.

"So how's the daaaate with-"

"Stop playing with your drink!"

"Stop avoiding the question," he shot back, jabbing his finger at her, "it can't have been that bad."

"For your information, it wasn't!" she scowled. Her Father opened his mouth to talk again, "you were adopted! No one ever loved you!"

"Touche..." he replied, eyes big and wondering. "I take it my surrogate Mom was a complete babe, right?"

"Dad!" she squealed, "you are nearly 40, you do not use the word 'babe'!"

"Whaaat?"

"You need 'how-to-act-40-years-old' lessons..."

She finished the last of her Chocolate and put it in the sink. Finally feeling warm, she started to shed her damp outer-wear. She put the in the drying cupboard, which was hidden behind a 'secret' door in the hall.

As she walked back into the living room, her Father was by her side again, pestering her for details. While it made her laugh, he was starting to get on her nerves.

She batted the questions away deftly with her hand. Michael was persistent, however; eventually she gave in and gave him the full details. He perched on the edge of the couch as she told the story, his eyes wide and his ears perked.

“I assume you weren’t eager to talk about this date-“

“It’s not a date, Dad!”

“Okay, you weren’t eager to talk about this outing, as while you enjoyed yourself profusely, you are rather unsure of your emotions towards him?”

That was her Father, over analyzing everything, turning up spot on. She stuck out her bottom lip.

“Yeah... I guess so.”

“And now you’ve had the time to survey your feelings? Are you any clearer?” he asked, sucking on the end of his thumb.

“I think...” she said slowly, “while I might like to think we might be something more than friends, I think it’s a spur of the moment thing. I’m pretty sure tommorow I shall wake up tommorow with damp eyes and Matt on the brain.”

“Ahh!” he cried, falling on to his side, “so you still have feelings for Matt?”

“He only moved a week ago, Pa.”

“Hmm,” he sucked his thumb zealously; his black hair panned out beneath him.

She knew he was encouraging her to talk. She was unsure. Until this point, all her emotions had been bottled inside, she was unsure whether she would be able to stop talking, once the cork was removed. She took a moment to think about how she really felt.

“Even though he’s three states away,” she started, “and even though we have officially ‘ended’... I still can’t help loving him. I still think of how wonderful he made me feel. I still replay all those magical hours I spent with him, just lounging around in the rare summer sun. It was a summer romance, yet I was convinced it was more mature than that. When I found out he was moving... well my stomach literally dropped out my butt. It made it worse to think he knew he was moving before we started seeing each other. It hurts to think I was just a summer fling for him.”

“But?”

“But on the other hand there is Tom... I’m truly unsure of how I feel about him.”

“I don’t think you’re confused at all. I think you’re convincing yourself that you are confused. I believe deep down, you know how you feel,” he declared. “You know what, Pumpkin? It’s alright to like two boys at the same time. Nor is it wrong to get over someone. Even your ‘first love’.”

Sometimes, it gets far too annoying when your Father knows you better than yourself. It gets tiresome when just one person has all the right answers.

“You know what, Dad?” she snapped suddenly, “as much as you want to be the detective of this situation, sometimes, you just don’t get it. You aren’t always right, you know!”

She ran in to her room and slammed the door, far too ashamed to let her Father see her lie.