When Daddy Returns
Angry tears slide down my face. I clench my fists tightly at my side, trying to restrain myself from slapping the girl in front of me. How dare she say such awful things about my father - the father who I loved with all my heart.
"Stop talking right now," I say. trying to keep my voice under control so the rest of the kids and teachers in the schoolyard don't hear me.
"And I heard your father went to jail cause he murdered a man. At least that's what my mother says. She also says your older brother Robby is bound to turn out bad like your father..."
That was it. Nobody insults both my father and my brother in the same sentence. I lunge forward ready to tear this foolish girl apart only to be held back by Robby, who appears out of nowhere.
"Stop it Chloe," he whispers in my ear, holding me hard by my wrists. "Remember what mama said."
But I don't remember, t least not then. All that is important is for me to get to that girl an beat he until she listens.
"Let me go Robby!" I cry, struggling against his grip, "Let me go, please!"
"No," he responds, dragging me away even though I'm kicking and screaming.
Now all the kids are silent, aware that something isn't right. Then, with sudden fierce strength, I break free and run, away from the schoolyard, away from Robby, away from all the teacher's and students.
"Chloe!" I hear Robby call, but I don't listen. I just keep on running. Then I stop, panting. I am far away, far enough away that no one will find me. I know where I am. I am at Birch Tree Park, whee dad usd to take Robby and me when we were little. I sit down on one of the benches near the duck pond, watching the ducks swim by.
Then I am little again, at the park with dad just on another one o our daily outings.
"Daddy, daddy!" I cried, skipping happily over to the shore of the pond. I picked up one of the smooth rocks, rubbing it between my thumb and forefinger for good luck.
Bringing my arm back just like my father had shown me so many times, I threw the rock into the water. It skipped, once twice, three times.
Not far away, Robby was catching frogs with a bright pink bucket. He always asked daddy if he could take one home for a pet, but daddy always told him to let them go, so they could return yo their families. "Being separated from your loved ones is horrible Robby," he said, "Absolutely horrible."
"How...how did you escape the school?" I ask.
Robby grins at me. "Same way you did."
"Robby," I ask, half looking at him so I will see his reaction, "why do people think that dad killed that man? I mean, you now he would never do that, and I know, but there seem to be so many people that are convinced that he did."
"Chloe," he says, his eyes meeting mine, "all the proof was against him. It didn't matter to the police what kind of person e was. After someone is killed, police get desperate for suspects. Dad was just in the wrong place and the wrong time."
Suddenly, I notice tears in his eyes. Could it really be? Was Robby actually crying? My strong fierce older brother who always comforted me when I cried?
"Oh Robby," I said, gripping his hand tightly, "why can't things be like they used to be?"
Robby's shoulders shook. "I don't know," he said tears streaming down his face, "I don't know."
It seemed like we sat there forever, crying and dreaming of the day when daddy would return even though in our hearts we knew that day may never come.
click back to Lia's page