The Secret of Ella and Micha Chapter 17

MichaI called my dad from the road and got his address. He tried and true to talk to me a little bit, but I hung up on him. Confronting him for bailing is not something Im freeing to do over the phone.He lives about devil hours away, which pisses me off. Two hours away and he hasnt stopped by once. When I cull up to his house, my tump overs nearly choke the life out of the manoeuver wheel. He lives in a two-story white-brick mansion. The neighborhood is nice with gigantic houses and plurality qualifyinging their dogs along the sidewalk. Theres no drug dealings going on, no fights, no junky cars parked in the front yard.I sit around in my car staring at the red gateway with a big Welcome sign hanging on it. There argon flowers around the front of the yard and the grass is green and cut. Is this why he left us? Because he wanted a fancier life. wherefore the fuck couldnt he do that with us?My phone beeps in my liquid ecstasy and I turn it off. Its Ella and I cant talk to h er right now.The front door opens and a man in his forties steps out onto the porch. His cop is the same color of blonde as mine, but thinner. Hes wearing a black suit and looks like an arrogant prick.He scoops up the publisher from the ground and squints at my car as he trots off the porch. I count to five in my head, force my pass away from the focus wheel, and get out of the car. He recognizes me immediately and his face drains of color.Micha? He tucks the paper under his arm. Is that you?I take another deep breath and walk across the front lawn. I dont even know why Im here.why dont you come privileged so we can talk? he suggests. I follow him into the house thats even nicer on the inside hardwood floors, a large chandelier, and freshly painted walls with family pictures on them. You have a family?He tosses the publisher onto a defer and motions for me to have a seat in the life room. Yeah, a daughter thats twelve and a son thats eight.Feeling awkward, I sit beat in a chair thats decorated with ruffled pillows. He seats himself across from me, seeming like he has no idea what to do or say next. So how have you been?Super. Theres a large portrait on the wall taken in a church of him and his wife on their wedding day and I watch at it, doing the math. How long have you been remarried? He fidgets uncomfortably as he leans back in the chair and stations his foot onto his knee. Micha, look Id kind of not get into this.What did you do? Like run out on us and marry the first person you came across? Anger destroy in my voice. He looks away toward the window and I get it. You were eyesight her while you were still with mom, werent you?He makes eye contact with me again, with eyes merely like mine. Look Micha, there were things going on betwixt your begin and I that you dont understand I wasnt happy.There were things going on betwixt you and me, too, I snap. So whats your excuse for that one?He rubs a hand across his face and lets out an exhausted sigh. Im blueish.I clench my hands into fists, fighting the urge to jump off the couch and strangle him. Youre sorry? Great answer, asshole.He snatches a manila folder out of the draftsman of the end table and slams it down on the coffee table between us. Your grandfather left you some money in his will.My eyes brasslike from the folder to my father. Is that why you brought me here?He opens the folder and takes a belittled stack of papers out. I thought maybe you could use it to go to college or something. That would be nice, wouldnt it?Shaking my head, I get to my feet. Im not going to college and youd understand that if you knew me past the age of six.He slides the papers across the table and sets a pen next to them. Please just take the money, Micha. I want to know that youre taken care of otherwise itll haunt me.I pause. Are you planning on ever seeing me again? His curb gives me the only answer I need. I dont want your God diabolical money. I throw the papers at him and storm for the front door. buckle under it to one of your real kids.He doesnt call after me when I boss out the door and he doesnt chase me down. I march straightforward for my car, getting more furious with each step, and I slam my fist into the drivers side window. It doesnt break, but a couple of my knuckles pop.Fuck I shout, clutching my hand and the old lady across the street, whos working in her garden, scurries inside her mansion.I jump in my car and speed off down the road with no idea where the hell Im going.