Misplaced Trust (Misjudged) (3 page)

“Stay with us,” I smile at Neil, and although he still looks unsure, he returns my smile and nods once
in agreement.

“Dinner will be
another hour or so,” my dad informs us as he leads the way into the living room, and that’s when the smile I was wearing is immediately wiped from my face.

Pausing in the doorway, I start feeling a little sick. There are boxes stacked on top of more boxes
, and they’re scattered all around the room. It looks like all of my mom’s possessions are within these four walls.

Neil rubs my arm gently as we make our way
into the center of the room, “It’s time, sweetheart,” my father tells me, his voice laced with sadness. Without saying another word, I sit cross legged on the floor and begin opening the first one, as I try to hold back the tears.

After s
orting through clothes, jewelry, and photographs for the past forty minutes, the oven finally sounds. My father heads through to the kitchen as I reach for another box. Neil looks uncomfortable and I can’t say I blame him for being so. It’s not how he’d planned on spending his day, and it certainly lacks any kind of fun that he’s so used to.

“Alex
, can I use your bathroom?” he asks, standing and making his way over to the side door of the room.

“Sure,” I lo
ok up and smile at him. “It’s at the top of the stairs, second room along the hallway on the left.” Bringing my attention away from him as he leaves the room, I grab for some more items.

Sitting in my hands is
a small pink diary. I never realized my mother had kept one. I smile, wondering what memories she would have kept inside as I open it up at a random page.

Thursday.

Its eleven o’clock and he just called. I love when he calls to say goodnight, although I wish he’d have stopped by like he said he was going to. My mom and dad invited him over to have dinner with us, but at short notice he had to cancel, something about having to go to another band meeting.

He’s dedicated, I’ll give him that. He loves music and since he started the band not so long back, he’s worked hard to try and get Vultures some local gigs. I just wish sometimes he was as dedicated to our relationship as much as he is to his mic.

What is this? I don’t recall my father ever being into music. There are no dates, other than the Thursday, so I’m not even sure when this was written. I’m intrigued by this, extremely intrigued, and so I keep reading.

Friday.

He’s just dropped me home after spending some alone time together. He took me to the outskirts of the city and we gazed at the stars and kissed most of the time underneath the moonlight. He’s such a sweet, caring guy, even though he said he had to cancel our dinner date for tomorrow evening. Band duties ... again.

“Hey, dad,” I call through and wait for him to appear in the doorway. “Were you ever in a band?”

He s
hakes his head at me before disappearing back out from my view.

“This place is so big
that I thought I was gonna get lost,” Neil chuckles as he closes the door behind him. “Hey, are you alright?”

My only response is a nod as I keep my eyes transfixed on the little book that’s still on my lap. Neil’s leg brushes with mine as he sits beside me
, and as I glance up, I notice his eyebrows are knitted together as he studies me. “Yeah … yeah, I guess so,” I pass the book over to him. “This was amongst my mom’s things but my dad said he was never in a band.”

Shrugging my shoulders,
I grab another photo album from the box as Neil flicks through a few pages of the diary, “Where did you find this?” his voice is quiet, with his eyes not once leaving the item he’s holding.

“It wa
s in one of the box—”

“
Alex, can you come through and help me serve dinner sweetheart?” my dad interrupts mine and Neil’s conversation. Taking the diary back from Neil and placing it in the closest box to us, I grab a hold of his hand, pull him up onto his feet, and lead him through to the kitchen with me.

***

“The food was delicious!” Neil states enthusiastically. Smiling, I stand and begin to clear the dining table. “Here, let me take those.” Neil grabs the empty plates from my hands and takes them through to the kitchen.

I notice my dad holding his inquisitive gaze on me, like he has been ever since we
arrived, “Okay dad. What is it?” I ask, sitting back down in my seat and resting my chin in my hands.

“He seems like a nice boy,” he answers me with narrowing eyes. “Are you and he
…?”

“No, dad. We’re not. We’re just friends. Good friends, that’s all.”

He looks at me with a small and disbelieving smile, and I can already tell that he doesn’t believe me, “Does he know that?”

“What? Yes of course!”

He knows this because he’s been there for me ever since my heart was smashed into tiny pieces, so yes, of course he knows.

I’ve never discussed Brandon with my father. It was over so fast, I hadn’t really h
ad a chance to tell him, let alone introduce them to one another. The dull ache in my chest begins to circulate again as I think about how much I miss him.

Once Neil returns from the kitchen, we relocate to the living room and finish sorting through more of the boxes.

By eleven o’clock, we’re done. It only took a few hours to sort through the entirety of my mom’s belongings. Throughout the evening we laughed, we sobbed, and we remembered all of the good times.

My dad wants a lot of her possessions to be donated, but I’ve managed to keep a couple of sentimental items for myself. Her engagement ring, and a necklace. My father gave her the white gold necklace on their one year anniversary, with each of their initials engraved on the back.

Bidding both Neil and my father a goodnight, I head to my room, my thoughts filled with both my mom, and Brandon.

Taking a seat on one of the kitchen stools by the counter, I watch my father as he goes about fixing breakfast for the three of us. Bacon, eggs, sausages, hash browns. The works. I really have no idea why we don’t make more of an effort back at the dorm.

“Morning,” Neil appears through the door way, smiling and raking a hand through his messy ‘
just out of bed’ hair. “How did you sleep?”

“Good, and you?” I answer as he takes
a seat beside me, before pouring us both a glass of orange juice.

“So
mething smells good, Mr. Harper,” he calls over to my father.

My dad
continues preparing our food, while averting his attention over in our direction, “Let’s just hope it tastes as good as it smells then,” he jokes as he flips the bacon over in the pan. “I thought I would try and get my daughter looking her usual healthy self again. You’ve lost weight, Alex.”

It’s
kind of true, although I didn’t think it was all that noticeable. I haven’t really had much of an appetite as of late. Neil’s cell phone sounds, and as he excuses himself and leaves the room, I notice that my father is still watching me closely, “Dad, I’m fine.” I know that look and I can tell he doesn’t believe me.

“Do you need us to help you take some of the boxes to the charity stores with you today?”
I ask, trying to divert the conversation away from me and my eating habits, or lack thereof.

Neil takes his seat beside me again, looking slightly distracted by something
. He reaches over for a piece of the toast that my father has just laid out in front of us, “Most of the charity places are closed on a Sunday so Diana from next door volunteered to collect them first thing in the morning,” my father answers as he takes his position back by the stove.

“Did you move some already?” Neil asks, “I could have sworn there were more through there yesterday.”
He adds, gesturing towards the doorway that leads through to the living room.

“Yes,
I’ve put a few of the boxes out in the garage.”

“So
, what do you want to do for the rest of the day?” I sit up a little straighter in my seat. We hadn’t planned on driving back to Seattle until this evening, and where it’s only eight thirty, it would be a shame to waste the day.

Watching as my father serves up the food, I feel Neil leaning close
r towards me, “Why don’t we head out somewhere, y’know, the three of us. Have lunch out or something. Make a day of it.”

It would make more sense than just sitting around in the house, and i
t’s a nice, sunny day out today, “Yeah, yeah let’s do it.”

***

We left the house at some time close to ten, with my father volunteering to drive after taking one look at the interior of the truck. He’s not a snob, he just likes to be as comfortable as possible. In that truck, you would be anything but comfortable.

After parking by one of the local art galleries, we make our way through
one of the quieter streets in the city while trying to decide on what to do before we have lunch, “I just need to grab some cash,” I tell them both, and head towards the ATM on the other side of the street.

My father and Neil seem to be getting on really well, which is nice considering they both play a huge part in my life. Waiting for the lights to change, my eyes land on a
n SUV that’s slowly passing by.

Damn. Returning is the
empty, sickly feeling through my chest and lower abdomen.

Grow some balls, Alex. I mean seriously, how many SUV
’s are there between here and Seattle? Thousands, I’m sure.
Scolding myself for attempting to see through the black tinted windows, I watch as it passes and wait for the lights to change.

“What’s wrong with your face?” I hear Neil come up behind me as I take the dollar bills from the machine, and then see my father standing just behind him. “We thought we could head over to the park or something.”

“Sounds good to me,” I answer, smiling as we step over to join my father, before making our way down the street. He looks to be giving directions to someone and as we approach, I notice it’s the same SUV that I saw just a minute or two ago.

Alex, relax
. I urge myself as I go to stand by my father’s side.

“You can go that route, but I think that it would be easier if you took the second right onto Broadw
ay,” my father tells the driver, “Alex, Broadway is the best route for Mount Avenue, isn’t it?”

“Yeah if you just—
“I go to give directions to the driver, but my voice immediately cuts out when I see who is sitting in the driver’s seat. “You …”

My voice refuses to make another sound. He’s watching me, but I’m not able to see any kind of emotion within his eyes. They’re completely unreadable.

“Alex, are you okay sweetheart?” my father asks, glancing between both myself and the driver. Nodding before stepping further back onto the sidewalk, I turn around to see Neil’s face is most probably mirroring my own. He looks just as curious as I’m feeling.

“Wasn’t that the guy you were talking to down by the lake the other day?”

Looking over my shoulder and watching as the vehicle drives slowly away, I answer in an almost whisper, “Yeah … yeah, it was.”

***

It’s four o’clock as we pull
onto my father’s driveway, and although we had fun on our outing, spending most of our time within the Hallie Ford Museum of Art, I haven’t been able to shift the encounter with Harry out of my mind.

Stepping out of the car and pulling the door key from my jacket pocket, I go to unlock the fr
ont door, stilling when I see it’s slightly ajar already, “Dad?” I call to him. He was the last one out this morning. “Dad, did you forget to lock up on your way out this morning?”

“I’m sure she thinks I’m becoming careless in my old age,” his laughter becomes loud
er as both he and Neil approach. “Of course I locked …” his voice trails and his eyes widen as he steps in front of me, pushing on the door until it opens up wide.

“Oh my God,” my voice is a whisper as I take it
all in. Stepping inside, we see that the place has been completely trashed. “Who would do this?” I ask, my voice revealing the shock I’m feeling at seeing all of my father’s possessions scattered and broken around both the living room and hallway areas.

Turning to face my father, he looks
instantly drained, with the color fading away from his cheeks when he sees what I see, “Fuck.” My father doesn’t flinch from Neil’s outburst, even though he hates curse words and has always reprimanded me whenever he’s overheard my use of obscene language.

“I’ll call the cops,” I say, with my voice sounding strangled as the bile rises into my throat.

“I’ll call them,” Neil insists, “stay with your father and check to see if anything’s missing.”

Kissing me lightly on the forehead, Neil leaves the room
, and all I can do is wrap my arms around my father. He looks devastated.

“He’s a good kid,” he says, stepping out of my embrace as he walks around the living room, assessing the items that have been recklessly thrown from t
heir usual places. Why would someone do this?

Tears begin to fill my eyes when I see him bend to pick up a broken photo frame. The one holding a photograph of my mom and dad on their wedding day. People can be so fucking cruel.

“They’re on their way,” Neil says, entering the room
and coming over to stand by my side, softly stroking my cheek with the back of his hand, as a way to comfort me I guess. “Mr. Harper, does it look like anything has been taken?”

My father peers
up, his eyes displaying nothing but an emptiness and without a response, he walks through into the kitchen. Following him, I see he has his hands resting on the counter top with his head hanging low, “Dad?”

Walking over and grabbing a hold of his hand, he squeezes it tightly but doesn’t look my way. He doesn’t like to
display his emotions, and where this is a highly emotional and stressful time, with his and my mom’s belongings thrown callously around without a thought in the world from the person or persons who did this, it must be hard for him to remain strong.

“Mr. Harper, the cops are here,” Neil says quietly behind us. My father inhales a breath, squeezes my hand once more,
and then leaves to go and speak with them.

Sitting myself down on one of the stools, Neil comes over to join me, holding my hand and staying quiet for a few minutes as we listen to the question
s the cops are asking my father, “What are you thinking?” the silence is broken when Neil asks this and I’m not sure at first how to respond.

“
When I was leaving campus, Harry helped me with my case,” Neil sits up in his seat, his eyes narrowing as he waits for me to continue. “He asked where I was going and how long for, then, he just appears in a black SUV in Salem and asks my father for directions.”

Neil appears to understand where my trail of thought it heading, so it’s fairly obvious to assume he’s having
exactly the same thoughts himself.

“What did you tell him?” Neil asks, standing himself up a little straighter and beginning to look worried. “Did you tell him where your father lived?
Did you tell him anything?”

Shaking my head, I wonder why this concerns him so much,
but then it did raise a few red flags for me too. “I didn’t tell him anything. I don’t think I like the guy though. There’s something about him that’s, I don’t know … not quite right.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”