The Secret of Ella and Micha Chapter 17

MichaI crabed my dad from the road and got his address. He tried to talk to me a little bit, but I hung up on him. Con confronting him for bailing is non something Im going to do over the sound.He lives ab step up two hours away, which pisses me off. Two hours away and he hasnt stopped by once. When I pull up to his house, my hands nearly choke the life out of the steering wheel. He lives in a two-story white-brick mansion. The neighborhood is nice with gigantic houses and people walking their dogs on the sidewalk. Theres no drug dealings going on, no fights, no junky cars parked in the front yard.I sit in my car consummate(a) at the red door with a big Welcome sign hanging on it. There are flowers around the front of the yard and the shutout is green and cut. Is this why he left us? Because he wanted a fancier life. Why the fuck couldnt he do that with us?My ph wiz beeps in my pocket and I turn it off. Its Ella and I cant talk to her right now.The front door opens and a man in his forties steps out onto the porch. His hair 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 newsprint from the ground and squints at my car as he trots off the porch. I count to five in my head, force my hands away from the steering wheel, and draw and quarter out of the car. He recognizes me immediately and his face drains of color.Micha? He tucks the newspaper under his arm. Is that you?I take another deep breath and walk across the front lawn. I dont veri flurry(a) get it on why Im here.Why dont you come inside so we can talk? he suggests. I follow him into the house thats even nicer on the inside hardwood floors, a massive chandelier, and freshly painted walls with family pictures on them. You encounter a family?He tosses the newspaper onto a table and motions for me to have a seat in the living room. Yeah, a daughter thats twelve and a son thats eight.Feeling awkward, I sit down in a chairwoma n thats decorated with frilly 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 gaze 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 rather not get into this.What did you do? Like run out on us and marry the first person you came across? Anger burns in my voice. He looks away toward the window and I get it. You were seeing her while you were still with mom, werent you?He makes eye contact with me again, with eyes exactly like mine. Look Micha, in that location were things going on between your mother and I that you dont make I wasnt happy.There were things going on between 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 s orry.I clench my hands into fists, fighting the urge to jump off the set and strangle him. Youre sorry? Great answer, asshole.He snatches a manila folder out of the drawer 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 flash from the folder to my father. Is that why you brought me here?He opens the folder and takes a lilliputian 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 silence gives me the only answer I need. I dont want your God damn money. I throw the papers at him and storm for the front door. G ive it to one of your real kids.He doesnt call after me when I stomp out the door and he doesnt chase me down. I march straight 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.