The front door opens and my Dad steps out onto the porch. He just stands there, at the top of the stairs, holding two beers by their necks in one hand. Taking a deep breath I take a moment before climbing out.
“Hi, Dad.”
“You missed dinner, Ollie.” It was more of a statement than a reprimand.
“I know. Time got away.” He steps down on to the second step before taking a seat and handing me one of the bottles. Taking it, I sit down next to him.
“It’s a beautiful night.” Another statement, before taking a swig from his own bottle.
“Yeah.” The street was quiet, the only sound was the crickets calling to one another. We sit together in silence, sipping our beers under the porch light.
“Oliver, there’s not a single day that goes by that your mother and I don’t worry about you. It comes with the territory of being a parent. We know that your job is a dangerous one and sometimes that scares the life out of us. All of us, Drew included. We’re proud of you, son. You wouldn’t be here today if you weren’t good at your job, we know this. But you’re a good human as well and being human means you’re not invincible. So, if there is ever a time you need to talk or yell or whatever it is you need to do, then you need to know this family is behind you all the way.” I nod, taking a sip of my beer. Behind us, the curtain falls back into place before the front door is pulled open.
“Ollie, you hungry?” Mum’s voice filled with concern.
“Yeah, ma. I’m sorry I missed dinner.”
“Come inside, I’ll heat up your plate.”
“I’ll be in in just a minute.” Dad stands beside me, clapping his hand on my shoulder before following my mum inside. Softly the door closes behind the two of them, leaving me alone sitting on the steps. This whole time I had been in the police force, not once had I considered the impact my life choices were having on my family. I thought I had protected my loved ones, including Daisy, by leaving this life behind me when I signed up. When the reality was this whole time, it turns out I was being selfish and only protecting myself. It was no wonder Daisy hated me so much, who could blame her?
8
daisy
* * *
After I’d left Oliver in the park, I’d stormed home like a bratty child, locking myself inside trying to forget the outside world and Oliver even existed whilst I binge-watched the first two seasons of Pretty Little Lairs, again.
I had fallen asleep on the couch; Munchkin had woken me to remind me that she hadn’t been fed yet. Bees and Honey still sat on the edge of the coffee table where I had dumped it when I’d gotten home. I couldn’t deny I wanted to know who the killer was, it was kind of eating me up by not knowing but finishing it meant tying another memory to Oliver and those, I already had enough of.
My tantrum was high on the immaturity scale, my pout pushing it over the edge. I shut down the voice of reason, reminding me it was only a book. How had he managed to be back only a few days and all the old feelings of disdain for him I had in the weeks, no months after he’d left had managed to resurface as if no time had passed at all.
I felt like I had skipped the love and heartbreak stages and went straight on to anger and resentment again. I hated this power he had over the way I felt more than I hated feeling this way after all this time. Mostly, I was angry with myself for still being this person, the person that obviously hadn’t moved on or forgiven Oliver for leaving me behind. The person who was still waiting for an apology like it was going to be some magical cure for all the hurt that was caused.
I fed Munchkin and skipped my cup of tea, I didn’t feel like I could stomach it and the only thing that was going to bring me peace was the end of the day. Hopefully, a decent night’s sleep would help me back on the road to feeling normal. Tomorrow, I would camp out in my living room in my pyjamas all day watching re-runs of the cop shows I loved until it was time to go to my parents for our regular Sunday dinner.
Having a plan for the next day had already started to improve my mood. Smiling to myself, I watch Munchkin finish her dinner before carrying her off to bed.
* * *
A restful sleep had been too much to ask for, I’d spent most of the night tossing and turning unable to shut my mind off. So much for good intentions, wishful thinking had been my downfall on more than the odd occasion.
In the end, I had laid staring at the ceiling for the first hour thinking non-sense and then spent the following hour wondering why I was thinking about such nonsense. Finally, I had fallen into a light sleep at some stupidly early hour in the morning and mercifully, I had managed to sleep late.
If it hadn’t been for my bladders objection I would have gladly given up on my grand plans of cop shows in my pyjamas and stayed snuggled up in bed all day. Under protest, my own and my bladder’s I threw back the covers and padded my way down to the bathroom.
* * *
With a coffee wrapped in my hands, I tuck my legs beneath me on the couch, Bees and Honey taunts at me from the table in front of me. Swapping the book for the mug in my hand, I turn it over, weighing it up in my hand. Cascading the pages into a fan I open the page where I had been up to when Oliver interrupted me yesterday.
I wasn’t going to let his already reading it stop me from finishing it. How ridiculous was I being about this? It was a book and he was just a man and it was as simple as that. It wasn’t a book with all the worlds’ answers and he was merely human. Adjusting my position to become more comfortable, I read.
I devour page after page as if I were marooned in the desert and these words were my water. Not until the very last page do you find out the killer is the alter-ego of the father. Sitting staring at the cover I felt shocked as if I’d been plunged into icy water, my bearings were off as I tried to process the whole entire story in the minutes since finding out the answer I had, in hindsight, known from the beginning. Artfully, the killer had been hiding in plain sight the whole time.
Showering to get ready for dinner with my parents, fragments of the story kept whirring around as if the aftershocks of a major earthquake. I don’t remember if I had already conditioned my hair so I do it again.
* * *
Mum had cooked an amazing meal, roast lamb with all the trimmings.
“I heard from Mrs. Wilson yesterday that Oliver Coxen is back in town.” Unlike the majority of the middle aged women in this town, Mum showed no interest in the idle gossip of the town.
“Yeah, he is.”
“You’ve seen him?” My Mum’s tone gave nothing away, but the look of concern on her face spoke volumes. My parents had been there to witness the aftermath of Oliver’s leaving.
“Yes. A couple of times. He gave me a ride home when my car broke down the other day.” I see the look my parent’s exchange. They had thought of Oliver as a son in the time we were together, he’d watched football with dad on the nights we just hung around home and had even brought my mum flowers on her birthday. “Just because he’s in town doesn’t mean he’s back in my life. So don’t worry, it doesn’t mean anything.”
After we finished dinner, my dad gives me a lift home. He didn’t want me walking anywhere in the dark, not that it mattered in such a small town where everyone knew everyone. I was, however, grateful for the lift.