Page 5 of Passing the Red Line
As soon as I’m in the parking lot, I pull out my phone and call the only person that I can think of to pick me up.
My dad.
He’s a lot closer to me than mom is, distance wise. He’ll pick me up. I’ll tell him what Kalen did and after he punches the asshole in the face, he will pick me up and lecture me the whole way home about not dating pussy ass bitches that don’t deserve me and then buy me ice cream to make me feel better.
He’ll be there for me when I need him the most. I know he will.
But as the phone rings and rings, and it eventually goes to voicemail, my hope dies down a little. I call him again and the same thing happens.
Three times I call him and three times he doesn’t answer.
On the last call, tears finally escape my eyes.
My dad isn’t picking up and he’s not going to come and get me.
At this very moment, I realize something; I fucking hate hockey players.
They disappoint and hurt you every chance they get.
CHAPTERONE
PRESENT DAY - 10 YEARS LATER
Eliana
I don’t knowwhat triggered it.
In all the years since it happened, I don’t let myself think about the time that my dad didn’t answer his phone during what I thought was one of the toughest moments of my life.
To some people something as not answering the phone and making your daughter wait a total of six hours to pick her up would be something that they could easily get over. Something that they could possibly laugh about during birthdays and Christmas dinners.
For me, that moment became the turning point in my current relationship with my dad so the less I think about it the better.
Because it may have been a very short period of time in my life, but that very short period showed me that there are certain times where I don’t matter. Even to my father.
That moment has a hold on me, and I try to bury it as often as I can.
But apparently not deep enough because that day pops up when I least expect it.
Take right now for example. I’m in the back of a drive share on my way to interview for a new job. A permanent job. I should be thinking about that day.
Yet I am.
Maybe it’s being in Chicago.
Maybe it’s the job itself.
Who am I kidding? I know exactly what triggered my trip down memory lane. It’s the city, the job I’m interviewing for and my father all wrapped up together in one.
Why I torture myself like this is beyond me.
I’m here, though. I shouldn’t be, but I am. No matter the shit relationship I have with my father and his favorite sport, the offer that landed in my email a few weeks ago was way too big for me to ignore. But now though, I’m second guessing everything.
Out of all the job assignment emails that land in my inbox, this is one that I should have scrolled past and let it get lost with the other thousands of unopened emails.
I shouldn’t have let my curiosity get the best of me and clicked it open. But I did and I did indeed open the email that had the words “Dark Knights Team Photographer opening” in the subject line.
At first, I thought it was something that my dad had orchestrated as a way to repair our relationship like he has been trying to do these last couple of years. A cruel way to make me spend time with him outside of our quarterly dinners.
