Free Watch Over Me by Tara Sivec Page B

back in my face like it
     didn't even matter," I tell him angrily.
    "I know, believe me, I know. I'm well aware of the fact that I have a lot to prove
     to you. And I'll do it, Addison. I swear I will prove to you that you can trust me."
    The voice in my head is finally silent. She must have finally gotten sick of the bullshit
     too.
    "I'm going home," I tell him without responding to his empty promises. I turn away
     from him and walk toward the door, leaving the dirty dishes piled in the sink. Normally,
     I never leave a mess in the kitchen before I leave at night because I don't want to
     have to deal with it the next morning. Right now I just want to get out of here and
     away from my father. The dishes will have to wait.
    "Why don't you just ride home with me? We can come back tomorrow morning and you can
     get your car then," he tells me, trying one last time for us to spend some quality
     time together.
    It occurs to me then that my father has no idea I moved out of my childhood home.
     He has no idea that I couldn't take one more day in that house because I saw my mother
     everywhere, and yet she was nowhere to be found. He made certain of that the day after
     she died. We had come home from making all of the funeral arrangements, and while
     family and friends stopped by to bring food and other useless items they thought would
     cure our broken hearts, my father began packing every single item of my mother's away.
     Clothes, shoes, jewelry, pictures, knickknacks…anything and everything that she ever
     touched was packed away into totes and immediately taken to Goodwill. Every trace
     of my mother was given away to strangers, and by the end of that day it was like she
     never even existed.
    After my father went into rehab this last time, I couldn't take being in that house
     anymore. I couldn't take walking in the door and feeling like I just didn't belong
     there. Without my mom, I didn't belong anywhere.
    "I don't live at the house anymore. I have an apartment over by the mall," I told
     him as I grabbed my purse from the counter and dug my keys out of the bottom.
    "What? What do you mean you don't live at home anymore?" my dad asks in confusion.
    I finally find my keys, turn the knob, and open the door.
    "I mean, I don't live at home anymore," I tell him with spite. I should just walk
     out and end it on that note, but I can't. I've always been the type of person who
     needs to make sure my point is hammered home, always making sure I have the last word.
     At least one thing has remained constant with my personality. I turn around and face
     him one last time before I go. "You erased every trace of her from that house. Why
     the hell would I want to continue living there?"
    I don't even need to say her name; he visibly winces like he's in pain when I mention
     her.
    "I'll lock everything up," he tells me, turning away and walking over to the wall
     where the light switch is. He shuts off all of the lights except for the security
     light over the back door where I'm still standing. "I want you to take the day off
     tomorrow. I'll take care of things here."
    Just like every other time I've brought her up, he completely changes the subject.
     He doesn't want to talk about her; he doesn't want to acknowledge her. And he wonders
     why I am the way I am. He wonders why I'm such a different person, why I'm so closed
     off now, and why I shut down.
    I take my cues from him. I've learned how to close myself off so I don't have to deal
     with the pain.
    "No, I'm working tomorrow. You have no idea what needs to be done."
    He raises his eyebrow at me and attempts to be humorous. "Sweetie, I own the shop,
     and I worked here for enough years to know how things are supposed to go. I'm pretty
     sure your old man can handle it while you go have fun and be a teenager."
    He smiles at me, but I don't return his joviality. He doesn't have any clue that I
     don't remember how to be a teenager or have fun. It's like he doesn't even