(no subject)
Kim wakes up to silence. She gets ready and dressed, bypassing both the computer and the door that has taken on new meaning. It's still early.
She clips the ipod to her shirt and turns it up loud hoping to drown out her thoughts. Her run is longer than usual and her pulse is still racing when she opens the fridge to grab a bottle of water. It's still too quiet.
No matter how many times she tells herself that she can't depend on him, that she can't let herself get used to him being around, and all those other things drilled into her yesterday, a part of her won't listen. Now, walking past the door again, she gets the courage to look at her email. She hasn't gotten a response.
Almost noon and no sign of her dad.
She goes out shopping, sure that he'll be back soon and she doesn't want to appear like she was waiting for him.
A few hours later and the door remains closed. She talks to a friend on the phone, barely paying attention to the conversation, and if she told her friend the reason he'd think she was crazy. Dusk slips into true dark and the moon begins its downward arc as she tries to sleep. He's still not back, she pretends it doesn't matter.
She snaps awake from a nightmare, the dark haired phantom child asks her why she doesn't call daddy - why she resists someone that can help her. She trembles and walks past his door, drinking a glass of water before heading back to bed.
Bright light wakes her, she stands and taps on his door, fighting tears when she pushes the door open and his bed is still made. She stops in front of the door to the bar, willing it to open, and him never coming back isn't an option.
"I'm so weak," she whispers, needing not to talk or even to see him but just to sense him near her. She can't take the silence.
The bar's like she remembers and she steps over the threshold, feeling a piece of paper under her foot and it's blown to the other side before she can pick it up.
She goes upstairs to his room, thinking she should have waited, that he's trying to give them time apart, and she knocks softly.
She clips the ipod to her shirt and turns it up loud hoping to drown out her thoughts. Her run is longer than usual and her pulse is still racing when she opens the fridge to grab a bottle of water. It's still too quiet.
No matter how many times she tells herself that she can't depend on him, that she can't let herself get used to him being around, and all those other things drilled into her yesterday, a part of her won't listen. Now, walking past the door again, she gets the courage to look at her email. She hasn't gotten a response.
Almost noon and no sign of her dad.
She goes out shopping, sure that he'll be back soon and she doesn't want to appear like she was waiting for him.
A few hours later and the door remains closed. She talks to a friend on the phone, barely paying attention to the conversation, and if she told her friend the reason he'd think she was crazy. Dusk slips into true dark and the moon begins its downward arc as she tries to sleep. He's still not back, she pretends it doesn't matter.
She snaps awake from a nightmare, the dark haired phantom child asks her why she doesn't call daddy - why she resists someone that can help her. She trembles and walks past his door, drinking a glass of water before heading back to bed.
Bright light wakes her, she stands and taps on his door, fighting tears when she pushes the door open and his bed is still made. She stops in front of the door to the bar, willing it to open, and him never coming back isn't an option.
"I'm so weak," she whispers, needing not to talk or even to see him but just to sense him near her. She can't take the silence.
The bar's like she remembers and she steps over the threshold, feeling a piece of paper under her foot and it's blown to the other side before she can pick it up.
She goes upstairs to his room, thinking she should have waited, that he's trying to give them time apart, and she knocks softly.