Page 6 of Ruled By Fate

Just like old times.

After a while, she yawned and realized her foot had fallen asleep. The grandfather clock struck ten. She got up and paced downstairs a few times before circling restlessly back to sit on the arm of the couch. She cleared her throat softly. “I’m a little tired, and I was thinking I’d sleep in my old room if that’s alright.”

His eyes never left the screen. She tried again.

“I was going to try to get an early start. I don’t want to wake you.”

He gave her a curt nod. “Goodnight, Brie.”

They sat inches from each other, yet worlds apart. “Goodnight, Dad.”

She turned and walked to the stairs.

I love you.

With a feeling of profound fatigue, she trudged up the stairs, threw her sleeping bag onto her childhood bed, and fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

She didn’t see the little shimmer of golden light float to a corner of her room and settle in for another in an endless series of watchful nights.

She never saw it. It made sure of that.

? ? ?

“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord…”

Brie woke the following morning to the dulcet tones of Johnny Cash singing “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” She blinked in confusion, then groaned.

I’m never letting Sherry borrow my phone again.

She splashed some water on her face and rolled up her sleeping bag, casting a final look around the room. It was frozen in time, just like the rest of the house. A child’s room, filled with neon nail polish and old paperbacks she’d long outgrown. The room of a child who had started out with great purpose then lost her way.

She tiptoed downstairs as quietly as possible to find her dad asleep on the couch, right where she’d left him. She put down her things, eased the empty bottle out of his hand, and put it in the empty takeout bag along with all the trash she could fit. She disposed of it silently in the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee. She put out an empty mug on a saucer for her dad, then filled a glass with water and placed it on the coffee table with two aspirins, where he’d see it as soon as he woke up. Another childhood routine. One she no longer questioned.

She picked up her bags and turned to leave, then hesitated and came back.

After another parting look, she gently kissed her father’s forehead, whispering in the quiet room, “I love you, Dad.”

A second later, she was walking out the door to her car and turning the key in the ignition, suddenly anxious to get to her new apartment and her new life as quickly as possible.

She told Siri the address and asked for directions, which it started disseminating straight away, as though she couldn’t be trusted to get out of her own driveway. The street rolled away beneath her, but when she looked around for a final glance at her house, she was surprised to see her dad on the porch, staring at her with a fathomless expression.

She rolled down the window quickly, thinking something might be wrong. “Dad?”

He stood there for a moment, then held up his hand in a gesture she hadn’t seen since she was a child. It was sign language — all fingers extended except the middle and ring, which were pointed down towards the palm. I love you. They used to make it all the time. Her throat tightened, and she held up her hand in reply, offering him a tentative, hopeful smile. He returned it tightly, as if his mouth had nearly forgotten how, then more naturally as he gave a little wave.

“Good luck,” he mouthed.

She nodded, then accelerated away, driving off towards her new life.

? ? ?

Alright. This is good. Don’t worry about him. You’ll call and check up on him. You need to DO this, Brie. You need to move forward and live your life. This is a good thing. Onwards and upwards. A new chapter, new possibilities, a brand new—

A light flashed on the dashboard, and her newfound momentum suddenly paused.

Out of coffee. Out of gas.

She bit her lip, slowed to a stop, then reluctantly veered off the main road and towards the nearest gas station, vowing to edit this bit in later memoirs of her life.

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