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So, I was driving home from work a while back and saw a vanity plate that caught my attention. I'm not sure about your neck of the woods, but vanity plates have increased exponentially where I am. Most are personal, some are cutesy, and others are left for interpretation. When I saw the license plate JOE BLOW, I immediately wondered if he or they knew about the various connotations such a plate would cause. Based on where I live, I figured it was more of the ordinary guy thing. You know... any Joe blow can do that.
I admit that my mind went elsewhere, which is the basis for this story. While it's based on a marriage, it becomes more of a family crisis. A daughter's love becomes the turning point for all of those involved. The theme itself is not new, of course, but hopefully the journey through it separates itself from the others.
Expect errors and omissions. Hopefully, they are few and do not impact your read of this little fable.
Cheers,
C_T
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Joe Blow
I sat in my Ford Escape and waited, giving me more unwanted time to replay and digest the last 8 weeks of my life. At 19 years old, I felt the world's weight was on my shoulders, while life pressured me to get on with it. You see, I lost my dad 10 months ago, and I'm still numb. Numb from the loss of his laugh, his smile... his love. I beat myself up every day for not being with him more. Deep down, I know I didn't take his love for granted, but your conscience can be callous when you lose someone so suddenly. A lot of 'what ifs'... with a huge selection of 'I wish's' and 'why didn't I's'. I looked at the clock on my dashboard and wiped another round of tears from my cheek.
Time heals all... what a crock of shit. All time did was constantly remind me how empty my life was. A hole so big, I knew the scar would be a part of me for as long as I lived. A song played on my radio that sent shivers down my spine. It took me back to our living room the night I went on my first date... I think I was 15. It wasn't like a dinner, dance date. It was a do you want to go to the mall with me, kind of date. The first time I went anywhere with a boy by myself. I was waiting for Dylan to come by, and we were going to take the bus together. My mom was fussing with my hair, and in the kitchen, I could hear my dad singing...
"Every breath you take
And every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
I'll be watching you."
"DAD!" I yelled as he sang Every Breath You Take, by the Police. It was a song about stalking, and my dad had teased me to no end, that he would be that kind of dad. Checking up on me... watching me.
"Joe! Stop teasing your daughter!" My mother jumped in.
It was then that Dylan knocked on our door, and I nervously let him in. Mom smiled sweetly, shaking his hand. My dad came walking into the room, and I immediately stiffened, not knowing what kind of dad crap he was going to pull on poor Dylan and embarrass me. He walked straight up to Dylan and shook his hand, palming him a $20.
"She loves those New York Fries, Dylan. My treat." I could see Dylan relax and politely thank my dad. He turned to me and wrapped me in a hug. "You are a strong, beautiful young woman. I trust you with all my heart, sweetie. Go have fun." I melted as he kissed my cheek. He tried to make a quick exit, but I distinctly saw a tear on his cheek.
I smiled at the fond memory. That was my dad in a nutshell. I was pulled from my walk down memory lane when I saw the white Escalade pull into the lot where I waited. We were the only two vehicles here today. It was a popular hiking spot, but it was late fall, in the middle of the afternoon, and most of the senior-type hikers were done for the season. I watched as the tall blonde exited her truck and made her way towards my SUV. Despite our current relationship, my mother was still one of the most beautiful women I knew... well, on the outside, at least.
They say that children grow up as a reflection of the lives they were exposed to. The clubs, sports teams, and circle of friends are most definitely contributing factors. The greatest factor in developing who you will be as an adult comes from your parents. If you consider the genetic factors and the everyday interactions from your first memory to your last, their imprint on your development is huge. I truly thought I had the best of it all. Great friends and amazing, loving, supportive parents.
My name is Cassidy, and I'm the sole offspring of Lily and Joe MacIvor. My mom was a high school cheerleader, Miss Teen Arlington, and a college drama major. She did some local commercials, with her highlight being a recurring part in a soap opera before I came along. Lily MacIvor (nee Watts) was a blonde bombshell. Always the prettiest and sexiest in a room. She was known for her down-to-earth personality, humor, and selflessness. I gained many of her physical traits, albeit with darker hair. I made friends easily and admirers even easier, it seemed. In her words, beauty came with responsibility. She used to joke that it was like a superpower, and you had to be careful and responsible in how you used it. Her words of wisdom felt hollow now that I knew what she was capable of.
The dark hair, I mentioned, was more like my father's. However, his true genetic gift was his unimaginable intellect. More than once, I heard people refer to him as the smartest person they had ever met. While he had a bit of a geek persona, I prefer to think of him more like a Clarke Kent. Humble, honest, and unassuming. He wore those big-framed black glasses that made his eyes an even larger brown, but when he took them off, he looked like a whole other person. His jawline gave him a very distinguished look... too bad he couldn't see shit without them. We (my mom and I) had encouraged him to try contacts, but that lasted all of two days. He reacted badly to the optical invasion and vowed never to wear them again. Physically, he was a little short at 5'9", but he always took good care of himself. He had strong, muscular legs from his love of tennis, and still rocked a subtle six-pack under his aging dad bod.
It was soon after one of my parents' college buddies had moved into town that I began to see my father change. The moment the guy knocked on our door, unexpectedly that evening, that's when things started, in my opinion. The first clue? My dad was noticeably not happy that this guy knocked on our door. He never said it outright, but I knew my dad's looks better than anyone... including my mom. While my mother was overly friendly, he was full of apprehension.
I was 17 (soon to be 18) when that happened. Grant (that was his name) seemed like an okay guy. He was friendly but not overly so. He was respectful to my mom and to me, by extension. For a guy who claimed to be my dad's buddy, he appeared to take pleasure in embarrassing my dad with old college stories that painted him as a nerd. He was quick to brag about my dad's early wealth from his inventions that eventually became patented. He was a millionaire before he graduated college. I'd known about some of that, but I wasn't aware that he fared so well financially; we didn't live like millionaires. He worked for a regular company as a lead mechanical engineer. He always hinted that he could've gone overseas and made ridiculous money, but after he met my mom, his roots were firmly planted here at home. Money wasn't everything to him, and he instilled that value into me as well.
After I was born, my mom never worked another day until I entered high school. With Dad's blessing and encouragement, she studied hard to get her real estate license and currently works whenever she feels like it. In her words, it was spending money that she liked to use to surprise Dad and me. I think she sold 5 or 6 houses a year. I didn't know if that made her a good or bad agent, but I learned it was her choice. She always wanted to be available to me, she explained, because high school had the potential to make or break a person growing up these days. Turns out, I adjusted well and was extremely popular. I won't lie, my looks had a lot to do with that among the "in" crowd, but I was also an honor student who was already fast-tracking to college. My teachers loved me and were always willing to push me harder when the curriculum posed no challenge. As a result, I had a lot of nerd friends too, arguably some of my best friends.
Anyway, this Grant guy started to become a regular figure in our house. I finally asked my dad if he was okay with the guy. Ever since his arrival, my father became withdrawn. He tried to fool me with his fake smile, but when you've seen the real deal, the fake ones stand out.
"Daddy? Is Grant actually your buddy from college, or mom's?" He was driving me to my volleyball game at the time.
"Where did that come from?" My dad turned toward me, his large, spectacled eyes looking curious.
"You just seem different. Ever since he showed up, I feel like you're not happy anymore. Are things okay between you and Mom?" My dad gave me a thoughtful stare. I wish I could read his thoughts because what he said to me was undoubtedly a lie.
"You're way too smart to be my daughter." He joked.
"It's because I'm your daughter, I am so smart!" I squeezed his arm closest to me. We both tittered.
"Grant is... well, he can be a little much. He was more your mom's friend than mine." That shocked me.
"So why did he say he was your college buddy? Did you guys even go to the same school?"
"No. He and your mom were friends. I met him through your mom after we started dating." He stopped, almost like he didn't want to say anything else.
"That's it? He seems to know a lot about you. I find that weird." I pushed.
He drove in silence for a few moments. As we pulled into the parking lot of our destination, he leaned over and kissed my head. "Don't you worry about me or your mom, sweetie. Have a good game. I'll be cheering for you." He gave me a deadpan look. "I promise I won't embarrass you again." He smiled. One time, he made a big deal about a dig I made that won us a point. That wouldn't have been so bad except he was one of only 5 parents that were there to watch, and no one else made a peep. I stepped out of the vehicle and watched him drive away. My gut was telling me what I already knew. My dad was not okay, and I left his vehicle with more questions than I started with.
The next few months went downhill. Grant was at our house more and more, even when Daddy wasn't home. Despite my trust in my mother, I would try to sneak up on them, but would never catch them doing anything but talking. Even when I eavesdropped, I heard nothing incriminating. As this went on, I watched my dad slowly become introverted. His sparkling eyes and easy smile were becoming less and less. My mother seemed to be her normal self and even started to encourage me to call Grant, Uncle Grant. I politely told her that I was 18, not 7, and it wasn't going to happen.
My dad's birthday was exactly three months after mine. We always gave thoughtful gifts for our birthdays. While my mom and dad would give me a gift from the two of them, my dad would forever sneak me a special one, just from him. This last one was a collaged frame of my Father's Day artwork from when I was aged 3-10. In the middle was a picture of him and me dressed as princesses. He truly knew how to make me feel special.
I was at a loss this year for what to get him. Normally, I have developed many ideas over the months, but with his mood slumping, I was more focused on that than birthday ideas, so I went to the best source for ideas about Dad.
"Hey, Mom? Do you have any birthday ideas for Dad?" She and Grant were sitting outside on the deck, talking about a house she thought would be a good investment for him.
"Really? Usually, you have too many ideas," she teased.
"I know." I changed the topic. "Have you noticed how down Daddy is lately? Is he okay? Is he having health issues?" She looked at Grant and back at me.
"No, honey. He's just fine. I think work has him stressed a little." She grabbed my hand to assure me. She suddenly got animated. "OH! I know what you can get him!" I looked for her to continue. "Personalized license plates!"
"Really? You think Dad would want some vanity plate on his car?"
"Well, he'd never do it himself, but if his daughter got it for him, I'm sure he would be excited." Her eyes flicked to Grant briefly. I'm not sure, but I thought he snickered.
"Okay. What should I get? His name? His job title?"
"I wouldn't go over the top. You know how your dad likes to be just an ordinary guy. Tell you what, let me feel him out with some cheeky questions and I'll get it made up and you can give them to him."
Happy to have the difficult burden removed from my day-to-day stuff, I thanked my mom and went on my way. The morning of his birthday, my mom came into my room with the plates, wrapped nicely and pretty. She handed them to me and smiled.
"Cool, Mom, thanks! What do they say?"
"It's just a phrase that he'll get a chuckle from." Before I could inquire further, she was gone.
It wasn't a party per se, but a get-together for my dad. Mom was cooking his favorite dishes and spending a quiet night with his family and by default, Grant. The meal was good, but I could tell that my dad wasn't himself. Normally, he'd be making age jokes to poke fun at himself, but he was far more subdued than normal. Mom and Grant seemed to be doing fine, so I tried to keep my dad's spirits up. We retired to the living room to make room for dessert. When Dad handed me a glass of red wine, Mom gave me the stink eye, but since Daddy handed it to me, she let it pass. It's not like the first alcohol I'd ever had... lol.
With a lull in the evening, I decided now was the time to put a smile on my dad's face. I reached behind the chair and pulled out his present. "Happy birthday, Daddy!" He smiled as I handed it to him.
I knelt on the floor beside him as he read my card, and I could see his eyes well up. My dad was never one to hold in his emotions, especially around me. He kissed the top of my head and began unwrapping his gift. The plates were facing each other as my dad muttered. "And what do we have here?" He smiled at me and flipped it over.
I was watching his eyes, hoping to see the happy creases I so loved, but what I saw was... hell, I had no idea what the look was. All I knew was he turned white as a ghost. He almost stopped breathing. His eyes became glossy as he looked towards my mom. I followed his gaze, and my mom had the weirdest smile, one I had never seen before.
"Wow, personalized plates! What do they say, Joe?" Grant was casually lounging in the corner of the couch.
It hit me that I had no idea what the plates had on them. "Let me see, Dad." I reached for the plate, but he wouldn't let it go. I was startled by his reaction. "Dad? What's wrong? Don't you like them?" His head snapped in my direction and... oh god, the look. A look that still haunts my dreams. Crushed... that's the closest adjective I could come up with.
He stood up, patted me on the head, like I was a puppy, and headed for the door. Without a word, he grabbed his keys and walked out. I stared at my mom, who was as surprised as I was. Grant looked more amused than anything. I bolted from my knees and ran outside, calling him back as he raced out of the driveway in his old Ford truck. I looked at my mom, and she snickered. I didn't know it at the time, but it would be the last time I saw my father... alive.
**
As my mother got closer to my vehicle, I turned it off, grabbing the mitts my dad had made for me by a native craftsman. When I stepped outside, my mother smiled and reached in to embrace me, but I turned my body to block her gesture. I could see the pain on her face, but I no longer cared.
"I... how long have you been in town? I wish you had told me. Your room is always ready for you."
"I'm staying with Sylvie." I started walking towards the trails.
We walked in silence for a while before Lily broke the ice. "It's good to see you, sweetheart. How's school?" I walked in silence like I never even heard her questions. "Cassidy, baby. When are you going to stop blaming me for your father's death? I didn't kill him, honey, it was an unfortunate accident."
Technically, she was correct. That night, my dad sped off and lost control on the highway. The investigation concluded that while my dad wasn't driving excessively fast, he had braked hard, like he was trying to avoid something on the road. It wasn't unusual for a deer or bear to show up unannounced from time to time. The combination of his speed, braking, and swerving sent him off the road. His truck had flipped multiple times before hitting a rock cut at the edge of the highway. The coroner said he likely died instantly on impact with the unforgiving structure.
To say that our relationship was strained would be a gross understatement. I somehow knew the gift I gave my dad that fateful night was somehow his last straw. When I demanded she explain his reaction, she laughed and said she had no idea why he was acting like a big baby. That was the first time I snapped. In all of my young life, my mother had never said something so degrading about her husband, my father. I got in her face so bad that Grant had to grab me and pull me back. When I bit his arm in defense, he threw me across the living room and into our large TV. It ended up broken, like my wrist, to go along with the multiple cuts I received from the debris. I refused to be in a car with either of them, so my mom called an ambulance.
An officer spoke with me in the hospital, and when I told him what happened, he asked if I wanted to press charges. I couldn't say yes fast enough. My mom tried to convince me that I was overreacting and pressured me to drop the charge before it got out of hand. It was then... the first time in my life that I swore at one of my parents. When I screamed at her to fuck off, the nurses came in and, with the help of security, she was removed from my room.
It was later that evening that I met Jill. It would be the only time we met, but she will forever be chiseled in my mind. Jill was a police officer who came to see me in my room. I suspected it had to do with my mother and Grant, but her facial expression was darker than it needed to be for that talk. No... she had the ugly responsibility of telling an 18-year-old girl that her father had passed away.
I shivered at the memory, prompting Lily to put her hand on my shoulder. "You okay, sweetheart?" I aggressively shrugged her hand away.
"Don't touch me." I hissed.
She let out a huge sigh. "Cassidy, you asked me to meet you here. I assumed it was to talk, but you're not making it easy."
She was right. I did ask her here. It was a talk long overdue, but it was time. I owed it to my dad. As we made our way deeper down the winding trail, I finally broke the silence.
"I know." It wasn't much. But it was a start.
"You know what, honey?"
"Everything. Well, almost everything. That's why I asked you here."
"You're confusing me, honey. You know everything about what?"
It was my turn to sigh. "Joe Blow." I didn't have to look at my mom (or Lily, as I call her now), I could feel her body stiffen. It took a moment to collect herself.
"The license plate? What's to know?"
"Why did you choose that as his personal plate? Why did you use me to hurt Dad as part of your sick and demented game?"
I could tell by her tone that she was struggling with my directness. "Baby. There was nothing behind that plate. It was an innocent gesture that he felt offended by, for some insane reason." I stopped in my tracks. "Baby?" She tried to engage me.
"You remember my first night back home? I was up in my room and was barely hanging on, so I took the Prozac the doctor prescribed. I could finally feel myself drifting off when I heard... him. You know, Grant. The guy who had a restraining order from being in our house. The guy who wasn't supposed to be within a football field of my location at all times."
"Honey. I think maybe the medication had..."
I cut her off instantly. "Don't fucking insult me, Lily." I knew she hated it when I called her by her name, hence why. "Prozac doesn't make you hallucinate or drop dead into unconsciousness. I saw what I saw... and what I heard still makes me sick to my stomach!" Lily was on full-court defense now.
"Baby... you don't..." I cut her off again.
"Do you know what millions of dollars allow a person to do?" I could see the turmoil on her face. She was still struggling that all the money my dad made on his patents and what would be generated in the future, was willed to me. Originally, in trust, with my mother until I turned 18, so in essence, she was out of the picture. Oh, don't get me wrong, my dad set her up well with his life insurance policy, his retirement pension, and all the assets he accumulated since they got married. Trust me, Lily would never have to work for money again.
"Why would you bring that up? I never begrudged your father for leaving you that money."
"Answer my question, Lily." I stared at her.
"I have no idea where you're going with this, so how am I supposed to answer that?"
"PI's Lily. Private investigators. It's amazing what can be found when you have the resources to hire people who know where and how to look." Her face couldn't decide which expression to fake. "How come you never mentioned you had a foster brother? Seems like something that would've come up with your own family. You didn't even tell Dad, did you? Grant wasn't Dad's friend; hell, he wasn't even yours! He was a foster child your parents took in, but kicked him out when he was 18. Why?"
I watched my "mother" struggle to pull her bullshit together. "Fine! Yes, Grant was my foster brother, but we did become friends, okay?! My stupid parents kicked him out because he was gay, and I felt bad for him, so we formed a bond. I did everything I could to help him. He had a lot of bad luck, being wrongly judged... persecuted, so I did everything in my power to help him."
"Did that include setting Dad up?" She grimaced at the question. "Don't bother Lily. I've seen the reports. You skated away pretty clean, didn't you? Is that why you went along with destroying my father? Was it a sense of guilt that Grant took the fall for you?"
"What? I would never! I loved your father with all my heart!" At one time, I would have believed that statement without a doubt. Sadly, with loads of new information, I didn't buy it anymore.
"He tried to blackmail Dad. Are you going to stand here and tell me that you had no idea your foster brother, the one you had a special bond with, was trying to extort some of Dad's money? Maybe I was born at night, Lily, but I wasn't last night!"
"It wasn't like that." She started.
"He, or both of you, drugged Dad and staged a picture of him with Grant's cock in his mouth. He told Dad he would circulate the picture anonymously. It would've derailed all his future plans if that got out. He even convinced Dad that you would walk away if you thought he was a cocksucker." Lily's defense was crumbling, and her tears started coming.
"But, when his plan went to shit, he was charged, spent some time in jail while you played the distraught girlfriend. Shocked that your friend would have done something like that!"
"I didn't know..."
"Uh-huh. So now I know why Dad was so upset when he knocked on our door that evening. Do you know what else I noticed? You weren't upset at all. In fact, you looked happy to see Dad's old college buddy! You knew why he was back, and you were game to help him, again!" I paused to rein in my anger. "Did you know that Dad was preparing to divorce you?" Her face went white. "Yeah. His lawyer informed me that the paperwork began immediately after Grant arrived. Everything was all set to go, but Dad was looking for the right opportunity to break it to me. Can you believe that? His bitch of a wife and her sidekick had him twisted in knots, and he was worried about me!"
She fell to her knees and covered her ears. "No, no, no, no, no..."
"That night... when you thought I was asleep. You know what I heard? Let me tell you what I heard because to this day, I can't fucking unhear it!"
**
I was groggy, but I knew I could hear my mom talking with someone. When I got downstairs, I could see Grant sitting at the dinner table, with Mom pacing back and forth.
"Jesus, Lily. I had no idea the guy would go off and get himself killed."
"Don't you get it? We killed him, Grant. You and me! Oh God, what have I done?"
"He was upset and lost control of his truck, Lily. We didn't kill him. If the fucking guy just gave me the money, this would never have happened. He and his fucking morals."
"You said no one would get hurt. That you would just drift in and drift out after you got his money."
"That was the plan, but he clearly wasn't going to go along with it. It was your idea to videotape and blackmail him!" I watched Grant shake his head. "And you believed he would still love you after that? I thought I was the unscrupulous one."
"You basically forced me, you asshole!"
"I did nothing of the sort. You fucking owe me, Lily. If he found out you took part in the picture at school, you would've been charged, and he would have dropped you like a hot potato. Just like that, your meal ticket would've disappeared!" He gestured to the walls of our house.
"I loved Joe!" She spun and glared at Grant. He actually laughed.
"Yeah, you loved him so much you drugged him with enough Ketamine to drop a horse. Forced the man with no control over his inhibitions to suck my cock. No easy task, considering how fucking big it is, but you begged and pleaded with him to do it for you, all while you filmed the clueless guy. How many times have you watched the fucking thing, huh? I know you got off when I shot all over his face. I know you wish it was you, but you've long known that your pretty form does nothing for me... so you lived it vicariously through your devoted husband, all in the name of getting me my million dollars." He stepped up to my mom and got right in her face. "Now that's fucking love!"
"Just leave! Get out of my house!" My mother yelled.
He put his hands on his waist. "Yeah, it all turned out pretty good for you, didn't it? The poor widower. A big fancy house, a massive life insurance policy, his patents and investments." He walked up to my mother and put a finger in her face. "You better find a way to get some of the money I'm owed."
"You're not owed shit!"
"I wonder what your daughter would think of you if she were to find your hand in all this." He laughed as my mother sank into a chair. "It's simple, Lily. Get me my million, and I'm gone... forever!"
I almost threw up. Who was this person? My mother was my role model. She kept me grounded and taught me right from wrong. I wanted to burst in on them, but the combination of the Prozac and the unstable contents of my stomach forced me upstairs, so I could throw up. I cried the whole time, as more of my world just shattered.
**
"You always wanted to know when and why I started hating you, Lily. There you have it. Two days after Dad died, in the dining room of my own house." She was on her knees, her hands over her ears, crying her heart out. "You not only abused your beauty to manipulate and blackmail the best man that I ever knew, but you killed him. It started with breaking his heart." Her sobbing was starting to get irritating. "Then, to top it off, when you found out Dad left me his patents and the millions that came with them, you tried to convince the lawyer that Dad had made a mistake. When that didn't work, you tried to song-and-dance me for money. Your performances would've been Oscar material if I didn't know the reason for those 'heartfelt' moments."
I couldn't take the crying show any longer, so I continued my walk. The bluffs that my dad and I used to sit on were another 20 minutes up the trail. I came here every time I was in town. It felt like the best place to talk with him. I sat on the cliff's edge that overlooked the valley and took in the colors of the season's change. I honestly thought Lily would've just left, but half an hour later, I heard her coming up behind me. She stood about 3 feet back, like she feared that I would do something to her.
Her voice was barely audible. "Baby?"
"Nope! Try again."
She sighed. "Cass, honey..."
"Last chance, Lily."
She took a deep breath, "Cassidy..." My point was made, so I let her continue.
"I love you with all my heart, and despite what you think of me, I loved your father too." I could hear her taking deeper breaths. "My relationship with Grant was... complicated. I let him get into my head that everything that was happening to him was everyone else's fault. His petty convictions, his sexual harassment cases... all of them. He had a way of making it sound like he was getting screwed every which way he turned." I heard her move closer, until she was standing right behind my seated back. "I felt responsible because it was my parents who threw him onto the streets, just because of his sexual orientation." She started sniffing again. "I felt it was my duty to see that he could start a fresh life. I..."
"Oh, shut up already. Do you hear yourself? God, you are so pathetic. Your duty? Your duty to do what? Fuck over my father? Cuckold him with staged photos and video?" I got up from my rock and faced her. "You are a sorry excuse for a wife, a terrible mother, and most of all, a horrific human being. You disgust me!" I pushed past her, and she tried to grab my arm, but I shook it off violently. So violently that she stumbled back, causing her right foot to slip over the edge of the cliff.
When I turned, I saw her fall to the ground, and the momentum of her leg pulled her further over the edge. By the time I realized what was happening, she had screamed as her hands tried to grasp anything before she tumbled over totally. I missed her outstretched arm and just like that, she was gone. I closed my eyes, trying to understand what had just happened, when I heard her voice. I looked over the edge, and she was hanging onto a small tree that had grown out of the side of the cliff.
"Cassidy! Help me!" She screamed. Her eyes pleaded with me to extend my arm. "Please! Please! Help me!"
I looked down into her frightened face. I could see her eyes were dilated with fear. "Tell me where the video of Dad is?"
"What?!" She yelled.
"You heard me. Where's the video? I know you, you still have it, and I want it."
"My laptop! It's stored in my laptop!"
"Does fuck face have a copy or access?"
"No! No, that's the only copy. It's in a hidden file!" The tree shifted a little, causing her to scream. "Please, baby! Help me! My hand is slipping!"
"I wonder if Dad felt like this?" I looked deep into her eyes. I could tell she was reading my thoughts. "Knowing his marriage was hanging by a thread, betrayed by the one he loved."
After a moment of realization, her frantic pleas were silenced. Just as I was about to extend my arm, the tree pulled free from the soil, and I watched the look on her face slowly disappear.
"911, what's the nature of your emergency?"
With a voice gasping for air, I explained what had just transpired. The operator assured me help was on the way.
"Leave your phone on, Miss, and we will trace your signal to the exact spot." The operator explained.
I stuffed the phone into my pocket and waited for the authorities to show up. I sat on the ground, analyzing my feelings. The truth was, I didn't feel sad so much as I felt relief, but then again, I was in shock. With all the information I had uncovered by the investigators, my mother, in some ways, was already dead to me. This was just the more permanent version. Flickers of guilt arose and hung in the air around me, but they didn't trump the thought of what she did to my dad.
The next thing I remember was sitting in the back of a police cruiser, mindlessly answering their barrage of questions. Thankfully, I was able to answer them all truthfully. The guilt isn't as bad under those circumstances. I was driven to the hospital as a routine to make sure I was okay both physically and mentally. I knew the next few weeks would be full of lawyer meetings, as I was the heir to all the things my mother had gained from my dad. That included her laptop, which would fundamentally be destroyed at my first opportunity. After that, I would be faced with starting a new life without both my parents. Sadly, the loss of my mother would have very little impact. In fact, it felt like a weight had been lifted from my soul. Maybe Daddy is finally at peace now.
EPILOGUE (5 years later)
I stood in the backroom of the church, as my maid of honor fussed over the last details of my dress. I was looking into the mirror as my future mother-in-law walked behind me with her hands pressed over her mouth.
"Oh, Cassidy. You look like an angel!" She gushed. My future mother-in-law, Pauline, was the closest thing I've had to a mother since... well, for a while.
She came up behind me and fluffed my veil while she stared at me through the reflection of the three-way mirror. Her eyes were always smiling, just like my soon-to-be husband's. It was one of the first things I noticed about him, behind his large, ornate glasses. I know what you're thinking. Honestly, you wouldn't be wrong. They say a girl looks for a husband like her father, and in my case, it was true. Like my father, he was super smart, humble, loving, and sexy in an unintentional way. I referred to my dad as a Clarke Kent type of man. Quinn was my Chris Hemsworth without Thor's decorative armor... or bulging muscles. His short, dirty blonde hair always looked messy, but that just made his blue eyes even sexier. Not the classic nerd of the old days.
"Quinn is one lucky man, sweetie." She gushed.
I turned around to face her. "Thank you, Pauline... for everything. You and Jim have been like parents to me, and I feel so lucky to be part of your family."
"Oh, you silly girl," she flashed her bright smile. "We're the lucky ones." She squeezed my hands. "I know your parents would be so proud of you right now. I bet they're looking down, smiling at how beautiful you look and all you've accomplished."
Pauline could see the turmoil in my eyes, and as she always had, she knew when to end a conversation. "You take as much time as you need, dear. After all, it's your day." With a final pat on my arm, she beamed one last time as she made her exit.
With the room to myself, I turned back at my reflection and pondered her words. I still had some guilty feelings about my mother. Yes, I now refer to her as my mother again, albeit posthumously. I wonder if she knew that I wasn't all that upset that she died that day. Did I do everything I could to save her? I knew the answer to that... no. The time I took to grill her about the video all but sealed her fate. It took a lot of therapy to come to terms with my anger, my guilt, and my losses. Accepting that much of what happened was not in my control was the easy part. Accepting my decisions that led to my Mom's death was a lot harder. In the end, the therapist was able to help me see that my conflicted emotions were what led to my delayed reaction. I was angry with my Mom, but I never wanted her to die.
In hopes of finding out more about Grant, I learned some scary truths as I pushed my investigations further, after my mom's death. It turns out Grant was kicked out of the house because my grandparents found out he was having sex with my mom as early as 15. I'll never know if my mom's infatuation with Grant was love or some sort of psychological endearment. As for Grant, based on the trail of shit he left wherever he went, he was definitely playing for both teams. I found out he was wanted on an outstanding charge for sex with a minor. Apparently, the boy was 17. He wasn't Grant when he lived there. He was Carl at that time. Since then, he'd been through several aliases. Jim, Bart, and Peter, to name a few. Thanks to some decent person's anonymous tip (wink, wink), Grant was caught trying to leave Las Vegas six months ago. The long string of pending charges guaranteed he'd spend considerable time in jail. However, his untimely death, while in lockup waiting for his multiple hearings, made all that moot. Even criminals have a standard, and raping minors is a line no one should ever cross. I was told his death was not pleasant. I wanted to be happy about that, but instead, I felt indifferent.
"Cass, honey? Are you ready?" My maid of honor snapped me from my trip down nightmare lane. Hopefully for the last time. I had a future to look forward to and a family that was as excited as I was to be a part of.
"Yeah. Have you seen my bouquet?" Sylvia just laughed at me as she grabbed it from the table.
"Are you sure you want to walk down the aisle by yourself? You know my dad would be tickled to step in." Kevin, Sylvia's dad, was nothing like my dad. He was big, loud, and extremely outgoing. My dad had always liked him, and the feeling was mutual.
"I'm not alone." I smiled at Sylvia, who made it like she understood and prepared herself for her walk down the aisle. I investigated my bouquet and smiled at the contents. The floral designer had done an amazing job for such an unusual request. Inserted and meticulously interwoven with my flowers were a dozen pictures of my dad and his various smiles. As my time approached, I kissed the bouquet.
"Thanks, Daddy," I whispered into the special bouquet.
**
After the service, we sat in the back of a limo heading for some pictures before the reception. Quinn was holding my hand as I looked out the window.
"You really miss him. Don't you?" It was rhetorical. From day one, Quinn knew how special my dad was to me, and he learned to love him through my stories.
"Do you think he would've liked me?" He asked. I looked over and could see he was being serious.
As quickly as I could answer, I squeezed his hand. "Without a doubt, baby."
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