HIM

by J. M. Elliott

  I miss him so much. I need my daddy.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  I try to distract myself with music and plan a place where I will set myself up a little office at my dad's, on my long drive back from Milwaukee. Barrett and IT have provided me with everything I need to successfully have everything run smoothly as it does from my office at Facade. I will be able to video conference with anyone on my team and at work and be virtually present at all meetings. It will be strange not to be there in person, but it's what I need right now to focus.

  I called Ernie this morning, and he said he hasn't heard from or seen Luke since he left the shop to see me on Friday, and Jason didn't answer his phone the two times I called him. I'm sure he's sleeping off a weekend of partying. I hope Luke is okay. His phone is still off, and I've probably called him about twenty times already since yesterday.

  I pull down my father's long driveway, and it's like a weight instantly lifts from my chest. I can finally breathe and not have to worry about being sexually harassed by one of my co-workers. I get out of my vehicle in the warm evening sun. It's so lovely out here and peaceful—no honking from traffic or busy nightlife, only the sound of mother nature.

  I haul my equipment in from Facade, my bag, and the one Luke left at my apartment back in Milwaukee. I notice that the grass has grown exceptionally long, I haven't cut it once since I came back, and I should probably do so soon.

  I walk to the small shed that sits off the driveway opposite the barn. It's a cute little shed, made of old barn wood. It has two windows, and for its size, it can store a whole lot of stuff. I turn the knob thing and slide off the latch, opening the shed. My dad and his OCD, I giggle to myself. Everything is organized so neatly and placed almost by size comparison or alphabetically. I pull out the push mower then back out the rider. I check both for gas and see that the rider doesn't have enough to do the entire yard.

  I run into the house, grab a shirt, and purse to head to town for some gas and two-stroke engine oil. I don't want to put the gas can in the trunk of my car and have it reek. I rush to the barn with my fingers crossed, my dad took the plow off his plow truck, and it will start. Luckily, the plow is unhooked and off to the side. I hop inside my dad's truck; it's super dusty in here. I haven't been in this truck for a long time. It's a single cab 1996 Ford F150, and a Baja saddle blanket covers the seat. It reminds me of those pullover ponchos from the nineties that everyone had to have.

  It starts right up with a little cough before the rumble, over half a tank of gas is still in her. Of course, my dad always told me never to leave a vehicle sit with under half a tank or ever let your tank go under a half a tank in the winter. I push the cassette in as I make my way to town. A song comes blaring across the speakers, East Bound and Down. What are the odds that it's this song? I hit eject and look at the tape and see that it's Jerry Reed's greatest hits.

  I turn on the radio to try and drown out my thoughts of Luke and my urge to want to call him for the umpteenth time since he left Ris's father's study. I drift off, trying to think of places he may have gone if he hadn't come back here. Part of me wants to drive out to his house, but I'm not in the mood to have to explain shit to Jason.

  I pull into the gas station and up to one of the pumps. I decide to call Luke before I get out of my dad's truck-straight to voicemail. What the hell? Maybe his phone is dead? I doubt it; it can't be since he has a charger in both of his vehicles. He must not want to talk to me or anyone and wants to be left alone. I'm worried about him. I know what he found out was a lot to handle, but he could at least tell me or someone that he's okay.

  I get out of the truck and pump two large gas cans full of gas. I load them into the bed of my dad's truck, then head inside to pay, and grab some oil. As I walk down the aisle with the oil, I can hear an annoying screechy voice. I can recognize it from anywhere; it's Bridget. Why does she have to be working today? I'm not in the mood for her bitchy attitude right now.

  I walk up to the counter and set down four bottles of two-stroke oil. Bridget gives me a glare and a quick look over.

  "Just the oil?" she asks, quite snooty.

  "And the gas on pump three," I mumble.

  She gives me a side-eye as she rings me up. I so desperately want to roll my eyes and flick her off, but I keep my cool. As she bags my oil, she eyeballs me again, and I can't bite my tongue any longer.

  "What?" I let out rudely.

  She looks at me, then adjusts all her weight to one leg and pops out her hip with attitude. She pops a bubble with her gum and says in the bitchiest tone that I've ever heard come out her mouth,

  "How's Luke?"

  Irritated by our pointless little discord, a tiny ounce of immaturity releases from my lips.

  "Wouldn't you like to know," I hiss.

  I glare at her, grab my bag of oil, and walk out of the gas station. Ugh, that nosey slut knows how to get under my skin. I hop inside my dad's truck and toss the bag of oil to the floor on the passenger side. I grip tightly to the steering wheel as I drive away. Settle down, Ali, she's not worth getting all riled up over. I take a deep breath, roll down the window, and turn up the music on the radio.

  I wonder if Bridget has had any contact with Luke in the last forty-eight hours. I'm sure if she had, she'd have rubbed it in my face just then.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Mowing the lawn while jamming out to your favorite tunes has its therapeutic qualities. Granted, using a rider makes it easier to reach and fulfill those qualities, but none the less, it's still relaxing. The station I have playing on Pandora must know that I am mowing because I've only to skip songs twice during my two-and-a-half-hour mow session.

  I return the rider and the push mower to the shed then grab the weed wacker. This contraption scares the shit out of me. Those whips are the least bit forgiving when they connect with skin. My music goes mute as the sound of my ring tone travels through my earbuds. I grab for my phone, hoping it's Luke, but it's only Jason. I let it go to voicemail. My phone has buzzed a few times with messages from Ris and one from Troy, begging me to call him. I don't feel like discussing what he may or may not have heard about what happened between me and his so-called best friend, Brady.

  I finish all the yard work as the sun is starting to set. I'm glad my dad had planted some perennials, so there is some color and beauty around the house. I should ask Gladys if she'd like to come over and help me plant flowers in my dad's hanging pots off the deck. I know she loves her flowers.

  I go into the house, straight up to the bathroom to remove my sweat-soaked clothes. My feet are stained green. I should've worn some sneakers but am not sure if I have an old pair here. I will have to check for next time. I step into the shower; the hot water burns my arms and shoulders. I must have gotten a little sunburnt while mowing; I didn't even think to put sunscreen on. I turn the dial back a tad, to give the unforgiving sting a breather. The lukewarm droplets hit my skin, allowing me to relax some and take my mind from everything jumbled inside.

  I step out of the shower and check my shoulders. They're burnt alright, along with my nose, tops of my ears, arms, and thighs. Lucky me, I get to deal with that itchy stinging pain for a few days. I should know better, but my mind is not in the right place. I apply some soothing aloe vera gel to my red blotchy skin and wonder my way to my room. I gently ease a light t-shirt over my head and slip on some panties.

  I give Jason a call, and this time, he picks up on the first ring.

  "Alicat!" he answers.

  "Hey," I reply.

  "What's up? How's it going? Are you back from the city?" he rambles.

  I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge, scanning it for something quick and easy to eat.

  "Yeah, I'm back. I just finished mowing my dad's yard," I say.

  A little preoccupied trying to pull the miracle whip out of the back of the fridge while holding the phone with my shoulder and cheek as I balance the cheese, ham, and mustard in my other hand. It's quite a struggle, but I
manage it just fine.

  "How did it feel to be back in the city after two weeks of being home?" He strikes up a conversation.

  "Interesting," I reply.

  If only he knew the half of it. I'm sure he'd flip out and go looking for Brady. Thankfully, he changes the subject, although the change is just as, if not more upsetting.

  "Next weekend is the fourth of July and-" Jason pauses right before finishing his sentence.

  "It's your dad's birthday."

  I put down the cheese, ham, and condiments I wrestled from the fridge. I walk over to the calendar hanging on the wall—Father's Day. Today is Father's Day. How could I have let this day, the first Father's Day, without my dad almost slip? Too caught up in my stupid drama, is how. God, I'm so fucking selfish. Even after he's dead, my life still trumps his.

  "Ali?" Jason's voice rings in my ear.

  "Yeah," I reply.

  I release a few tears, disappointed in myself.

  "Are you okay? I didn't mean to upset you at all," he says softly.

  "No, you didn't. I'm fine, just very tired from the past few days," I lie.

  Jason goes on to brag about how eventful of a weekend he had, as I go about making myself a sandwich. He mentions that he had the biggest turnout of people he's ever had at his house and that he's having another party this coming weekend-how I must be present. I drift off thinking about how shitty of a daughter I am.

  My phone call with Jason ends, and I walk sluggishly into the living room with my sandwich in hand. I sit down on the couch, staring at the carpet. I take a small bite of my sandwich and chew almost in slow motion. I set my ham and cheese sandwich down on the armrest of the couch, as I lay down and curl myself up into a tiny ball. I rock back and forth, humming. I want to cry, but I just can't. I stare at nothing as every part of me becomes numb.

  Chapter Seventy

  My alarm chimes and I wake up looking around the dimmed light entering the living room at my dad's. The sun is just starting to rise, and the birds have begun their annoying morning chatters. I reset my alarm for forty-five minutes from now and curl back up in the blanket from the couch.

  My alarm sounds again, which feels like five minutes later, and I want to hurl my phone across the room. I sit up on the couch, stretching my arms over my head, then rub the sleep from my eyes. I walk into the kitchen and toss a french vanilla cappuccino k-cup into the Keurig that I insisted my dad buy to keep up with the times. He made his coffee over the stove in an iron kettle. It was as thick as molasses and as dark as my soul.

  I walk back into the living room as the water heats up. I sit back down and flick on the TV. I'm not in the mood or the right state of mind to go into the shop today. I don't think I could handle seeing Luke and have him ignore me. I check my phone, and there's still no message or call from him. It's a little after six, which is a little too early to call Maureen at the shop. She doesn't get there until around seven-thirty. I flip through the channels stopping on some stupid game show before I head back into the kitchen to finish up with my cappuccino. I stare out the dining room window as I wait for it to finish.

  My phone buzzes. I rush to my phone, praying that it's a message from Luke.

  Hey girl, how are you holding up? Have you heard from Luke yet?

  A message from Ris reads.

  We text back and forth for a good portion of the morning. I call Barrett and let him know that I will miss today's meetings as I am not set up yet. Then I give Maureen a call.

  "Rob's Classic Restoration, Maureen speaking," she answers after the second ring.

  "Good Morning, Maureen, it's Ali," I say kindly.

  "Good Morning, Ali! Are you still in Milwaukee?" she asks in her sweet tone.

  "No, I am back at my dad's, but not feeling well, so I won't be coming in today," I reply.

  I can hear her fumbling through paperwork and chewing on something. It's probably just her usual morning muffin.

  "Oh no, I hope you feel better. Please drink lots of fluids and rest, my dear," she mutters.

  "Thank you so much! Have a great rest of your day," I mumble.

  "You too, Ali," she says.

  I almost hang up from our conversation before blurting out,

  "Is Luke at the shop yet?" I ask in a shaky voice.

  "No. He called in and took the entire week off," she answers.

  He took the week off! Why would he take the week off? Is he that upset over finding out about what Brady did to me? He must be mad at me to not want to talk to me or even come into work. Is he going to quit now?

  "Oh. Did he take his vacation?" I ask out of curiosity.

  I can hear Maureen clicking the mouse of her computer.

  "He wasn't set to take his vacation until the beginning of August. Although he does receive two weeks of vacation a year, the only time on the calendar he has requested off is the first week in August," she informs me.

  "Okay, thank you," I say, then end our call.

  I'm distraught now. I wish I knew where he was and if he's coming back. I will drive to his house later when I know Jason and Austin are at work, to see if he's packed any of his stuff up. I call him again but the same as all the other times I've called in the past two days, straight to voicemail.

  I SLEEP AWAY MOST OF the day, only waking to go to the bathroom, check my phone for a text or call from Luke, and readjust myself on the couch. My dreams are strange, making no sense but don't involve Luke, Brady, or my dad, surprisingly. I silence my phone and try to drift off back to sleep.

  At my grandparent's house, a man and woman are rushing me to gather pillows and blankets to bring into a cubby hole through the crawl space on the floor. You can hear the whipping of the wind as it hurls across the roof of the house. Out of the windows, you can see rain darting sideways, the sky is black, and trees are bent almost in half. The man and woman have lanterns and food in their arms as they hurry into the crawl space.

  A loud sound like a train overtakes my ears as I hear faint screams come from outside. I crawl down the cubby hole where a man is reaching out to help me down; he grabs the food from the woman after he helps me. I hear glass shatter as she begins to scream and is ripped from the man's hands into the violently circling winds. The man yells and reaches for her then is sucked into the tornado.

  I jump down into the depths of the crawl space, throwing a blanket over my head and curling myself into a little ball. I can still hear the screams from the wind and feel the tugging of my blanket as the tornado passes right over me.

  I fall to the floor from the couch. I wrestle around, trying to break myself free of the entangled blanket around me. I sit up and look around my father's living room. It's pitch-black, and even the TV has timed itself out. I collect myself, grabbing the blanket, and sitting back on the couch; what an odd dream to have.

  I've never met my mother, so I don't know what she looks like, but I kept yelling "mommy" to the woman in my dream, I don't know why. The man was not my father, so I have no clue who he was either. I've never been through a tornado. I've mainly only seen them on the television but know that they've had some touchdown in a few places here. Right now, my life is a tornado with everything that is going on. There is so much disaster happening from all the chaos since my father left this world and me behind. I hope my tornado's aftermath does not destroy my career or what I have built with Luke. He brings so much happiness and joy to my life in what feels like a hollow and depressing time.

  I cannot quite figure out what the hell that whole dream was all about and why a woman who seemed to be my mother was in it. I need a distraction from these uncanny images in my mind. I grab my phone and notice I have a few messages and a missed call from Ris, a few messages and a missed call from Troy, a message from Jenna, one of my assistants, and a missed call from Gladys. But nothing from Luke.

  Chapter Seventy-One

  The next few days seem to drag at a turtle's pace. I've gotten a lot done, between almost finishing the office remodel, starting the initial d
esigns for the Christiansen's project, and trying to keep my mind busy so I do not think about Luke too much. I wish I knew where he was, or at least that he is okay. It's the weekend, and I had promised Jason I'd come to the party at his house today, even though I don't want to. The more my mind is kept busy, the less I sit and think about Luke and dwell on my selfishness over my father.

  Ernie and Luke's custom diamond-plated desks should arrive sometime today or Monday. They are the finishing touches left on my father's old office remodel. I'm proud of how this office has turned out, and I'm sure they will love it. I painted the wall where the door rests a light gray with black, red, and white spin stripping and the wall directly across from it, with all the windows. They are the colors of my dad's shop shirts.

  I had wall decal murals made from scanned photos of what the shop used to look like thirty years ago hung on the two remaining walls. I reframed and hung up all the old pictures my dad had back on the wall where the door is. I custom-made corner curio cabinets, faced with diamond plating for all the plaques and trophies my dad and Ernie have received over the years. I hung a new dollar bill in place of the first one my dad's shop made to indicate the first dollar earned after the shop underwent new ownership.

  I made sure that the original first dollar was incorporated in Ernie's custom desktop, along with his first shop shirt, pictures with my dad, and other unforgettable memories. Luke's desktop has some sentimental moments with my dad and the shop as well. I had a company come in and lay checkered flag ceramic tiling throughout the office. I also got Luke and Ernie brown leather couches, just like the one my dad had. His one retired to the break room for others to have a little bit of my dad.