The Truth Hurts -P4

As she pulled into the drive of their modern estate, Kimberly saw the unmistakable figure of her father standing at the front entrance. His arms were crossed and the door wide open. His tailored grey suit looked surprisingly out of place considering the time. She presumed he must have had a late conference call.

“What have you got to say for yourself?” He scowled as she walked towards the door.

“Relax, I was just having dinner with Carol.”

“Excuse me?” He said bluntly.

“You heard me.” She said, walking into the kitchen.

“You know how I feel about that woman.”

“Of course I do, but in between you and my stupid therapist telling me I’m insane, it’s nice to be around someone that actually cares.” She paused to pour herself a glass of vintage Pinot Noir, then continued. “And besides, I haven’t seen her for a while. It’s been over six months since Mum’s funeral and Carol used to be such a big part of our lives. You can’t just cut people out like that.”

He waved his hands, “There’s a damn good reason Kim and I’m not going to argue you with you about this.”

“Then what? What are you going to do? Are you going to kick me out or keep making me see that stupid women? Make up your mind.”

“You’re my daughter,” He barked. “You do what I say when I say so. Now you need to trust that I have valid reasons for my decisions and damn well follow them!”

She narrowed her eyes, “Why don’t you explain them to me sometime? Huh? Or is that too difficult for you?”

He turned away, ready to head back into his office, away from all of this. He didn’t have time for her drama, not with all the paperwork he had to deal with.

“Don’t you dare patronise me,” he said. He paused for a moment to look at he and Lisa’s wedding photo, he shook his head he continued, “Your mother would have expected more from you.”

“Don’t bring her into this. She’s dead,” Kimberly shot back, finishing her wine. She watched as he stormed back to his office in silence. “Fine,” she called out. “Let’s just avoid talking about her. It’s been working so well.”

Chris sighed as he sat behind his desk to continue with his work. The room was simple, with clean lines and few decorations. He liked it that way. Clutter crowded his thoughts and took his focus away from work. Well, usually.

He studied the papers in front of him but couldn’t steer his mind away from their argument. It was becoming all too familiar, these angry spurts. He loved her dearly, he always had, but it never came out like that. Chris sighed, he knew he was at fault, he knew he needed to move on, but he couldn’t. He was too angry.

All he wanted to do was tell her why.

Kimberly paced around her bedroom. Today had been particularly odd, she thought. First the wretched session with Jane, then the visit to her Aunt and finally yet another argument with her father. Well, the latter wasn’t that strange.

Was she doing the right thing? Running off to Sydney without telling him? Surely anyone presented with a similar offer wouldn’t dare hesitate. Perhaps they’d arrive only to receive a measly missing cheque or something. It didn’t matter, she concluded, she couldn’t resist. The consequences could be dealt with later.

There were two kinds of people, she thought. Those who embrace all that life throws at them and those who refuse to grow. The latter are constantly thinking about the things they wish they’d said and done, whilst the former are filled with regrets. But there’s no such thing as regrets, she concluded. Regrets are merely experiences disguised as mistakes, and mistakes don’t exist – do they? Mistakes are a lie because at one point they represented everything someone wanted. And how could happiness ever possibly be worth regretting? After all, happiness is all everyone is naïvely searching for.

Carol looked out across the gardens of her property and muttered a prayer to the God she didn’t believe in. In the scheme of things, the curious call meant nothing compared to the possibility of being part of the girls lives again. Night had fallen hours ago, and although it had been a long day, she was far from tired. Her mind was alive with rambling thoughts.

She turned to face the house. It was too empty these days, full of ghost-like memories. But there was nothing she could do, since Richards death, and now Lisa’s, it’s haunted aura was more predominant than ever. All she wanted was Chris’s forgiveness, but unlike Richard, he wasn’t one to let go of grudges easily.

 

To be continued…

©Copyright Celsie Richardson 2016

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