Inspiration Point (2 page)

“Ugh, you sound just like my father,” I
complain. 

Tyler stops walking, “look let’s forget about that for
a while okay.”  I manage a small smile, but can already feel myself
calming down.  “What about tomorrow night, will I pick you up at
eight?” 

Pick me up, I think to myself, that sounds a bit
formal.  “How about I just meet you there, it will save you an extra
fifteen minute drive anyway.” 

He considers this for a moment.  “Well, if that’s
what you’d prefer.  Just meet at the pizza place down the road.  I
don’t want you to be hanging around the Sweat Room on your own.”  Now I
was the one rolling my eyes.

“Okay, see you tomorrow then,” I said as I took the
turn back to my father’s office.

“Yeah can’t wait,” he said energetically, and he
followed the rest of the students as they left the campus.

On my way back to my father’s office, I noticed
posters for the benefit which is to be held next week in his honor - not that I
was going.  They've had a couple of these over the years for different
reasons, and Dad knows how much I hate formal attire.  He doesn’t force me
to attend anymore, which is why I'd forgotten this one was next week.  He
still hasn’t returned when I arrive back in his office, I sit in his chair and
get started on my homework from school.  I may be a whiz in science and
math, but my history and english leave a lot to be desired, so I concentrated
on them. 

After an hour, I’ve made a reasonable dent in my work
and start wondering where he might be.  It’s not unusual that you might
not see him for a while, especially if he is in a lab somewhere.  I glance
to the phone wondering whether I should call his mobile, when I notice the
photo on his desk.  It’s a photo of my whole family, my father, my mother,
Emin and me, taken when I was five years old.  I know this because I
remember it was taken one week after my birthday, and two weeks before my
parents decided to get a divorce.

I don’t think I will ever forget it.  Emin and I
were playing outside; it had just started to get cold so I told him that I
wanted to go back in.  We were almost at the back door when we heard them
fighting.  Emin stopped me before we could go in, but I was old enough to
know that it was my parents voices who were yelling at each other, although
this was the first time I had ever heard them speak like this. 

My mother sounded furious, screaming and crying, and
although I could hear my father trying to calm her down, she didn’t.  It
wasn’t long after that she came out the back door and took Emin by the hand and
told him that they were leaving.  He started crying instantly, and so did
I.  We had both been too scared to move up to this point because of the
yelling.  Now he just kept repeating “Hayln, Hayln” between sobs and I
called back to him. But my mother simply turned and looked at me and said, “She
is staying with her father,” and then she scooped Emin up and took him
away.  I followed them, still crying until I reached the front door where
I saw their bags packed.  I stopped calling for Emin then and simply
called for my mother.  Pleading with her to stop, to realize that this was
a mistake, and to stay.  But she took the bags and my brother and
left.  With my eyes still full of tears, I remember feeling my father’s
arms lift me to his chest where he kissed the tears away. Reassuring me that it
would all be okay, and then I saw his face.  The truth of what had just
happened was written all over it.  Our family had just been broken in two,
and my mother and brother were never coming back to us.

I remember this moment every time I look at this
photo, and wonder if my father remembers the same thing when he looks at
it.  Of course, time has smoothed the edges over, but our family has never
been the same. 

Emin stayed with my mother since that night, and I
have stayed with my father.  We each spend one weekend a month at the
other parent’s house. This means, Emin and I see each other every second
weekend, and I see my mother for two days of each month - twenty four days a
year and every second Christmas and birthday.  This is something I have
always struggled with. 

I remember times before our family fell apart, when
she would be just like all mothers were supposed to be - affectionate, adoring,
patient and loving.  She is none of these things now. 

I am not sure whether it’s because I was so desperate
when I was younger to feel like she still loved me, that it felt so much worse
when she wouldn’t respond to me the way I wanted her to.  But I have
become used to our polite relationship now, to the point where it felt
uncomfortable calling her Mum anymore, so I started calling her by her first
name - Evelyn.  This made everything worse, although she didn’t say
anything to me.  It was Emin who told me that he heard her crying in her
room that night, sobbing my name.  After that, I went back to calling her
Mum and persisting with our courteous relationship to this very day.

It was Emin who I truly missed.  We were
inseparable when we were young and were devastated when we were torn
apart.  At first, this made our bond stronger.  We shared everything
with each other.  Even when I stayed, he always made his friends include
me with whatever plans they had.  This was something that truly aggravated
his best friend Zeke, which always brought a smile to my face.  I have
known Ezekiel Banner since I was born; he is like my second much more annoying
older brother – although if you call him by his full name he will just as
likely deck you.  Zeke has been Emin’s best friend my whole life. 
Therefore, he has also been forced to put up with me for that whole time
too. 

We all went to school together, which I loved, because
it was more time I got to spend with Emin.  Even though he was two years
above me, he always made me feel welcome.  As I was a loner, he protected
me when I needed it, and spent time with me when he could.  I tried not to
monopolize his time, but because we didn’t get to see each other often we
genuinely wanted to spend time together – this was a concept which was lost on
Zeke. 

It wasn’t until I started to excel at school, and was
getting compared to my father all the time, that our relationship became more
strained.  Instead of wanting to catch up and tell each other everything,
when we did see each other, he concentrated on his friends, computer games, or
motorcycles.  Then with the help of Zeke, he started to tease me incessantly. 
That’s when they started calling me Daddy’s Prodigy.  It wasn’t all bad,
we still had some time together, and after he graduated it started to improve.

I put the photo back in its place, and as I did my
father burst through the door, his face drained of any color. 

“Hayln?  What are you doing here?”  He
sounded distressed.  

As he was talking, I had already jumped to my feet and
started moving around the desk to where he stood, trying to compose himself.

“Dad what’s wrong?”  I had my arms around him
now, and I could feel him shaking.

“You look as though you've seen a ghost,” I said as I
leaned back to look at his face, and although he was more composed he was still
shaking. 

“Pretty close actually,” he said.  “Just ran into
an old friend who gave me some disturbing news.” 

“Tell me what happened,” I pleaded knowing it must
have been some news to get this response from my father. 

He has always been a tower of strength even during the
divorce.  Always the one who would take my hand and talk me through any
situation until I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

“What happened?” I repeated. 

“Nothing really Hayln, I just was taken by surprise is
all.  I ran into a former colleague and got caught up with a predicament
he's in.  But as I said there's nothing for you to worry about.” 

I stepped back, “you seemed almost shocked though when
you came into the office.” 

“I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here; you just
startled me is all.  I had forgotten it was Friday, and that you'd be here
for your lecture.  How was it anyway?”  

I knew this was a diversion, but I decided that I
wasn’t that interested in one of my father’s old colleague’s dilemmas, so I let
it go. 

“Professor Gregor commented he'll be getting you to set
my assignment’s now, he doesn’t think I am being challenged enough,” I said as
I sat on the edge of his desk. 

“That’s my girl,” he crooned.  “Now, how about we
pick up some Chinese on the way home?” 

I groaned.  “No Dad how about I cook, I am sick of
takeaway.” 

“Whatever you want Hayl’s, let’s get going though, I
want to get home.” He sounded tired. 

He grabbed his briefcase and a folder of assignments
while I reached for my backpack, and we headed to the parking lot.  It was
just on dusk when we got to the car.  The campus grounds always felt
different this time of day.  It was practically deserted, and after a warm
day like today you could smell the perfume of the flowers which boarded the
parking lot.  It was in that relaxing moment that my father reminded me of
something that I had entirely forgotten about. 

“I hope you have enough food for a couple of extras,
your brother will be home tonight for the weekend - remember.” 

“Oh, I had forgotten, but why a couple of extra’s, is
Mum coming too?” I asked doubtfully.  For a quick second, you could see a
flash of pain on my father’s face. 

“No, not your mother Hayl's, Zeke.  Your brother
called earlier today, they are working on some project together, and he asked
if he could come to dinner.  If it will be too much trouble to cook for
everyone we can still get Chinese,” he grinned hopefully at me. 

“No Dad,” I said.  “Cooking for four is not what
I am worried about, trust me.”

I can hear the woeful jokes starting already, and as
if he could hear what I was thinking Dad laughed and said, “their just having a
bit of fun with you Hayl’s, you know they both love you deep down.” 

I did know that Emin loved me, of course I did, but
Zeke?  I’m sure I could live one hundred years before he would say anything
to me that was remotely nice, but I didn’t argue with my father.  Instead,
I remembered the flash of pain on his face a moment ago.  The same one
that appears any time my mother is mentioned. 

I don’t think my father has ever stopped loving
her.  He certainly has never shown any interest in anyone since the
divorce.  There has been a couple of women pay some attention to him over
the years, and whilst he was always polite, he never accepted their invitations
for dinner or drinks.  I have spoken to him about it a couple of times to
make sure he wasn’t declining because of me.  After all, he deserves to be
happy too.  But he always answered simply, that he could never love
another woman after my mother, and when I saw his face when he thought of her -
I knew it was true.

Once we got home, I threw my backpack in my room and
headed downstairs to the kitchen to start on dinner.  I grabbed the
ingredients I needed for my favorite chicken pasta and started putting it
together. 

I decided I was looking forward to seeing Emin after
this afternoon.  Remembering all that stuff in my father’s office made me
want to catch up like we used to.  But with Zeke tagging along I doubt we
will get the chance. 

Emin and I don’t look much alike, although we both
have our father’s hazel eyes and are quite tall like him too.  He has
thick bronze hair, and an olive complexion just like my mother.  I, on the
other hand, look nothing like my mother.  It seems I am my father’s
daughter in every way, even down to the fair skin and dark curly hair. 
His is much curlier than mine because it is so short; mine just seems to fall
in waves when I have it long, as I do now. 

It wasn’t long before my father joined me after
spending some time in his study.  We have quite a large house considering
it is just the two of us most of the time.  He kept the house that we
lived in before the divorce because he hasn’t been able to part with it. 
Most rooms are hardly used now.  

“Smells good Hayl’s,” 

“Thanks,” I stop to taste a mouthful and ask.  “What
time do you expect the boys to arrive?” 

“Just in time it looks like; otherwise you mightn’t
leave any for the rest of us – hey Prodigy,” Emin said as he bounced through
the door, kissing me on the cheek and dumping his bag on the floor. 

“Hey, don’t leave that there,” I said. 

“Easy Hayl’s,” my father jumped in.  “He just got
here.”  They embrace and give each other a pat on the back before sitting
at the kitchen table.

Their relationship has survived the divorce relatively
unscathed.  Dad always makes time for Emin, to make up for missing out on
so much because they’re separated.  Something I don’t receive from my
mother, which always makes me feel a little jealous.  But I shake that
thought out of my head because I want this to be an enjoyable visit, and he
does seem in a great mood.  Plus Zeke didn’t arrive with him so with any
luck we might get to spend some time together. 

“I might have made too much pasta for just the three
of us,” I start to say when Zeke walks through the door. 

“Don’t tell me you've forgotten me already Hayln?
 I thought you were meant to be super smart or something, or is that just
what you tell the boys to get their attention?” Zeke laughs, dumping his bag on
top of Emin’s and sits down at the table too.