Story About A Girl
Adventure à la Grandoise
Walking around the area was not the smartest use of my time. There were so many things that I could have, would have, should have been doing. Frustration at my failure to begin my little adventure took me to a park a couple of blocks from my house, where I sat down on a bench to wait out my building anger.
And of course, the anger brought on my situation only reminded me that in my eyes, my father was the cause of this situation. So, now… what to do? My mind replied easily. Find that bastard father.
But if I was a bastard father, where would I be? Oh- correction… if I was a bastard father with a sweet new ride, who had a slight (make that humungous) drinking problem and loved the whor-ladies, where would I be?
Again, the answer was simple. The casino.
I doubted that he would have left town; no, he was too dimwitted for that. Because who would want to leave the town where your wife and child lived after you walked out on them and left them to rot? Certainly not my father. Slinging my only companions over my shoulders, I headed towards the bus stop. After all, there was only one way that I was going to make it to the casino- the nice part of town was on the other side.
Luck must have been on my side, because I only ended up waiting ten-ish minutes for the bus. Everything seemed simple enough; take the bus to the casino, and find my father. The bus ride didn't take long… it was maybe a half-an-hour. I decided that it would be best to clamber off at the main intersection of the… entertainment section of town, and I could start my search in the middle.
Walking, walking, walking… it seemed all I was capable of doing. It was EXTREMELY boring. I mean, I don't think I can put enough emphasis on the word EXTREMELY. Sitting down outside a fast-food joint with a burger seemed to be a nice reprieve, and that was when it happened.
It seemed like fortune was smiling at me again. Hurrah!
There, on the other side of the street, sat a sign advertising for the election; emblazoned with a brilliant red 'ELECT LEE!'
Clearly, my father hadn't left town. That made my life a whole lot easier. What on earth possessed him to run for… whatever it was he was running for? Like people would vote for him.
Gathering my things, I headed North, seeing as how I'd come from the south. I figured I'd kinda spiral out from my initial position, and hope that I came across something useful. My search, however, proved to be wholly uneventful… until I came across a rather large television screen that was recording a debate.
"And finally, with the closing statement from Lee-" the voice who was dully narrating, however, was not what caught my eye. It was the little bulletin at the bottom of the screen… 'Now live at,"
Reading off the address, my heart soared. It was just East of where I currently was situated… and I had just passed one of the roads. Confrontation was probably not the best choice I could have made, but at the moment, it seemed to be the only option. Pulling my coat higher around my neck, I trundled off in that direction.
My sleuthing was nothing particularly spectacular, but it was an accomplishment, to say the least. I had gotten an awful lot done in the short time that had passed. The sky was darkening, and night was fast approaching. I didn't want to sleep on the streets, but if worst came to worst, that was what seemed most likely to happen next.
Heading towards the little recreation center where the little debate was wrapping up, I was surprised to see as many media vans as I did. Apparently something had happened that was totally news-worthy… either that or my father was held pretty high in the public eye. However, the first seemed most likely- and so I decided to approach with caution. I wondered if he'd recognize me after half a dozen years… but I also didn't feel like dwelling on it.
"Sir, sir!! Over here, please!"
A crowd had formed by the doorway, where my father was currently exiting.
"A word please?"
"Yes," he replied. His voice was lower than I remembered. He was tall and slim, and his white hair was a beacon. He was only in his late thirties after all- my mother had been three years older than he was, and had given birth to me at 25.
"Congratulations on the landslide win!" the perky newscaster almost seemed too interested. I threw up a little in my mouth.
"Thank you," he replied.
"I have certainly toiled long and hard for this position, and I intend to do the most I can to help the people who need it most."
"Is it true that you are getting re-married?"
My father stiffened for a moment, but took the question in stride. He clearly hadn't been expecting it, though he covered well.
"Yes, it's true. My life is currently extremely chaotic, but I am taking it all in with open arms. I hope that my new family and I will be happy and content- another goal that I am working towards."
Cameras flashed and voice pierced the air with questions, but he only had ears for the newscaster he had been talking with.
"What about the wife and daughter from your previous marriage? How do they feel about all this?"
I stiffened at the question, and turned an angry, expectant stare on my father. Yes, Dad, how are we? How do we FEEL about this?
"My first family have made it clear that they do not wish me to be a part of their family. We have both cut new paths that we now follow and I cannot see them crossing any time in the future. My well wishes go out to both them and their welfare, but that is all.
"I would like to respectfully request that both my families, the new and the old, do not become subject to intense inquiry and questions; everything I do now is for this city, and the community. That is all."
Everyone clapped appreciatively at this small speech. I, however, glowered. How was it that my father was reveling in such attention? What had he ever done to deserve this? NOTHING, that's what. He left us with nothing, after treating us like SHIT. And his 'well wishes' weren't doing a damn thing.
"Oh, I'll get something on him yet," a voice murmured from beside me. Turning to look, curiously, I found a gangly looking man- a reporter, clearly, who seemed just as suspicious of my father as I was.
"Excuse me?" I asked, wondering just how much this man knew. I suppose my tone was rather accusatory, because he flinched before turning to look at me. He looked sheepish that his nasty comment had been overheard.
I also suppose you're also wondering why this man is so important. I'll tell you why- this gangly, still-live-at-home-with-ma reporter gave me the next clue on my treasure hunt.
"Candidate Lee might talk big," he mumbled, looking at his hands, "But I know there's more to him than this. He's probably got a seedy history, or a bad habit or something…"
It seemed more like the man was talking to his hands than talking to me, I had to strain to listen to hear him against the dull roar of the reporters asking questions and taking comments from my father.
"I even went to his house, but there's nothing there. His new family hasn't moved in with him yet, and it's empty when he isn't home…"
This caught my attention. He knew where my father lived?
"Where?" I demanded, grabbing his jacket. I immediately thought better of it however… it felt as greasy as it looked.
The man, shocked by my unprecedented outburst, mumbled an address even more indistinct than his stalkerish-mumblings. I scrawled it down hastily before taking off, away from the crowd.
Thoughts ran through my head, a jumbled mess. My father was running for presidency. He lived in the neighbor-hood. He was getting re-married—was he even divorced? I suppose he was now, since my mother was dead.
Grabbing a taxi was easy enough, as several were waiting amongst the reporting vans. Passing on the address, I sunk back into the seedy cushions of the car, suddenly feeling extremely exhausted. All the knowledge I had gained today- everything I had been through, it was overwhelming.
Paying the cabbie and climbing out, I took a long look at my father's house. It was ordinary. White-washed wooden door and garage. Tasteful garden. Small porch, with two chairs and a small table off to one side. It looked like it lacked a woman's touch. Apparently, however, that was about to change. My father lived in a two story house, which looked to be able to fit our old one in its front yard. He was getting remarried to another woman… did he know that my mother was dead? Did he know what happened to me? Did he care?
No, I suppose he didn't. Not if he hadn't done anything yet.
Glancing around the neighbor-hood, I wasn't overly surprised to see some construction down the street. They'd probably be a good place to hang… though it might get to be a problem when the workers started, well… working. On closer examination, the street seemed pretty quiet. Most of the houses all had lights on, some on upper floors, some on lower floors. All of the houses that had lights in them had cars in the driveway.
Looking around, I noticed that aside from my father's house, which had neither cars nor lights, the house across the street, and down the road had neither. My best bet, it seemed, would be to stake out his house until I had his schedule down pat. Then, maybe, I could figure out the best way to approach him.
Walking carefully up to the house across the street, I took it in carefully. Two floors- and what looked like a walk-out basement. There was a big sycamore tree outside the front of the house by a small balcony at the corner, and its branches stretched from the front of the house, curling around the side where a spattering of windows decorated the otherwise-bland house side.
Perfect for climbing, I grinned, despite my new goal of B&E.
Grappling my way up that tree was no easy feat- certainly not with a guitar and a backpack on my back. By the time I had reached the top of the balcony, I had at least one rip on the inside of my fatigues, and bruises from gripping the bark. To top it off, the sliding glass door was LOCKED.
"Breaking and entering certainly isn't as easy as it looks, now is it?" I grumbled, shifting off the balcony and back out onto the tree. Staring rather helplessly at the bark, I floundered for a new plan.
Glancing around, A fluttering curtain caught my attention. Looking around, I was surprised to see a window on the side of the house hanging open, modest white curtain corners fluttering gently in the darkening evening. There!
If I had thought inching my way towards the balcony was hard, it was even harder to make it to that window. The branches were getting thinner by the minute- but they were supported by the side of the house, which they rested heavily against.
Finally, I hooked one foot in the window, awkwardly tilting the guitar case to fall through the window before me. It thumped on something hollow- I prayed I hadn't broken anything. There certainly wouldn't be any way to replace it. Inching my way through the small window was problematic, seeing as how with the added width of my backpack, I almost got my boobs caught on the window latch- a painful experience, let me tell you. Heaving my upper-torso through the window had to be the most exertion I'd suffered in a while, and I had to momentarily rest haphazardly balanced on the window frame with my feet hanging out of the window.
The second attempt went much smoother than the first, with just my legs to squeeze through the window. However, I hit my head on the tiled ground, and landed on my back, the apples digging into my spine.
It appeared that I'd landed in a bathroom, and gently scooping up my father's old guitar, I tiptoed into the house. I listened for any alarm, but luckily enough, there didn't seem to be one. It didn't make sense that if the people living here were away for an extended period of time they'd carelessly leave the window open- it seemed more likely that they weren't far away from home at all.
Deciding it best not to search the house for other life forms, I left the bathroom quietly, surprised to walk into a bedroom, and not a hallway. It was sparingly decorated- there was a snowboarding poster, and a couple of football posters- a team flag, proclaiming "Go Sharks!" and some band posters that I didn't recognize.
The bathroom was in a corner, and the adjacent corner held another door, presumably to the hallway. Along that same wall was a closet, with a hamper of dirty clothes. The next wall held a desk, cluttered with books, papers, and a computer and monitor. In the corner opposite where I stood was a TV, connected to some speakers, a sound system, and a game system. There was a curtained window on the next wall, that looked out into the backyard. Finally, on the last wall was a modest queen-sized bed- one of the biggest I had ever seen. It looked so… comfy. Despite myself, I yawned. It had been a long, traumatic day…
Dumping my stuff down beside the bed and kicking off my shoes, I flopped down onto the comforter. A masculine scent wafted through my nose, tickling it. It wasn't a bad smell… definitely a boy's room.
Grinning into his pillow (whoever he was) I yawned again, rolling onto my stomach and closing my weary eyes. Maybe tomorrow I'd go inspect my father's house.
A/N: Annnd, the second chapter!! Jamie, our lovely heroine, will be introduced to another key character next chapter. Stay tuned!! Again, please be sure to point out anything that I've missed in hasty editing. Constructive words are always appreciated! Also, a big thanks to those that reviewed to the last chapter. THANKS! (That's as big as it gets, I'm afraid.)