Harry’s hands gripped the wheel tighter; an unpleasant sound whining from the friction of synthetic leather against bare skin. He’d gotten to the curb early enough to only be a few cars behind the forming queue of other parents. His eyes flicked to the rearview, the side mirror, then back to the imposing doors of Heather’s high school. Within a minute, the final bell rang from the depths and a short delay followed the flood of teenagers. Harry couldn’t care less about the other kids, some hopping into cars behind him, others grouping together to chat with friends. His eyes narrowed to catch the blond head of hair he’d recognize anywhere. He strained from the driver’s seat to roll down the passenger’s window.
“Heather!”
The teen turned her head from the peer she’d been talking to. Her expression changed a bit - somewhat annoyed, no doubt. She made a gesture and turned back, smile on her face as she talked. Harry’s lips thinned, watching his daughter for a few more moments before gathering pleasant father energy as his voice rose.
“Heather!” he called again, “Come on!”
His dear daughter dropped her head and Harry caught a small eye roll before she broke off the conversation and hurried over.
“Dad, you don’t have to do that every time..” she sighed, ducking into the beat up Honda.
“And you,” Harry shot back, adjusting his mirrors, “Shouldn’t make your dad worry.”
“Dad, you don’t have to worry…I’m just talking to my friends.”
Harry pulled out of the school parking lot, avoiding another loitering gaggle of teens, feeling his tension ease as he drove down the main road. Heather was fifteen. Young, impressionable, wanting to fit in. That was Harry’s vision, at least, based on how his years of high school had been.
“You know how your old man is.” Harry said, glancing over at Heather.
Her roots were showing.
“A big worrywart, yeah, I know.” she huffed.
Harry would bring her hair up later.
“I’m sorry.” a soft reply.
The two sat in silence. Harry focused on the drive. Heather rolled up the window before crossing her arms tightly. It hadn’t been easy - their third move in two years. But Harry, like Heather said, was a ‘worrywart’. He couldn’t repeat what had happened in Portland. The fact that he took another person’s life - cult member or no. The panic and horror of almost losing his precious daughter again . He couldn’t live through that. So, they moved. When he felt like there was suspicion, when Heather crossed her wires and mixed up the family story, whenever there was a good enough excuse to run. Harry chewed his cheek. He hated how things had turned out; what it had done to him and, in turn, was doing to his only child. Yet, it all sounded pretty reasonable when you laid the pieces out.
Right?
Heather shifted - heavy boots thumping the old car’s floor. The main road thinned out; storefronts changing to houses, apartments, and the occasional highway exit. Their own apartment was a little further out. Close enough to it all but still far removed. Just how Harry wanted things.
“How was school, honey?” he tried.
Heather’s head leaned heavy against the window, “Fine.”
“Learn anything good?”
“No.”
“Anything boring?”
“It was all boring.”
Harry glanced in the rearview. An empty road behind.
“Okay…” he bit, “What’s the attitude about?”
Heather somehow grew quieter, bare responses going nowhere, and slumped in her seat. Harry exhaled carefully, doing his best not to let the air escaping sound like a sigh. Heather hated the ‘Dad Sigh’ as she dubbed it. From their years together, Harry grew to love his daughter. The same, yet different. Someone he’d always loved and someone he had to learn to love all over again. His lips twitched at the temptation of a frown. Instead, he prepared to speak, lips parting and lungs inhaling, when Heather cut in.
“Are we going to fucking move again?”
She enunciated the word - “ fuck ing” - with such force that Harry thought he’d heard a recording of himself. If he wasn’t her dad, he might have felt a hint of pride at what she’d picked up.
But he was her father. And he had to say something.
“Language, please, Heather-” he started, nipping that bud first, “why do you think we’re gonna move?”
Heather huffed. Harry knew she had her thoughts. He knew she needed time to get them gathered, and he really did want to hear them. He glanced at the turn for their street and decided to go past. This conversation would end the moment Heather set foot in the apartment by Harry’s prediction and evidence from past talks. She’d stomp inside, hole herself in her room, blast the radio for an hour or two, and come out for dinner like nothing happened at all. Harry’s brows furrowed as he held himself back from speaking; glancing at Heather briefly.
The teen made a few gestures, an aggravated sound, and ruffled her hair lightly - intentional mess. Her choice.
“You’re just, like, I don’t know-” she began, “you’re getting like…”
Harry caught her making a shaking hand gesture; like someone hopped up on something. Harry's lips thinned.
“You got like this before we moved all those other times and I feel like I’m finally starting to make friends here and I just… I…” Heather’s tone quivered and she slumped again, arms crossed tighter than before.
She wasn’t completely wrong, Harry had to admit. He didn’t have thoughts about moving again, though he was on edge. Maybe because Heather was making friends. Because she was getting settled. Because he felt like he just… couldn’t. The road stretched on, offering fewer chances to turn back as the residential streets would soon turn to smaller highway before feeding into the interstate. Further and further from whatever it was they had here. Harry dreamed about a time he could relax. Fully relax. Maybe that could be here, maybe it was somewhere else. He didn’t know the answer and didn’t have time to consider it as he turned the car around - aiming for home. There had been too much silence between Heather’s words and a chance for his own and the teen’s sniffling filled the car. They had to figure this out.
“Tissues in the glovebox.”
Heather nodded, reaching down to pull open the compartment. She pushed aside a First Aid kit, a flashlight, and an envelope of emergency cash before finding what she needed. Good ol’ Harry, always prepared… Heather noisily blew her nose and crumpled the tissue; half-heartedly motioning to throw it on the floor. However, she stopped herself in her dad’s presence and kept it tightly balled in her fist. The engine droned as the street to the apartment was passed once more - this time going towards town.
“Dad.” Heather quietly pointed out.
“I’m a little hungry.” Harry lied, “How about you?”
The teen perked at that, not too quickly though, “I guess…”
Harry made a small sound of affirmation, pointing the car in the direction of the greasiest fast food place he could think of. That was the beauty of a town like this; it seemed to be a magnet for all the box stores and any other kind of junk you could imagine. Something about it being convenient for growing families. He almost shook his head at the thought but cleared his throat instead.
“Heather,” he started, throat tight, “you know I love you and-”
“‘And I do everything I can to keep you safe.’” Heather’s voice overlapped with Harry’s. He clicked his tongue.
“Hey, Dad’s trying to do the speech - let me finish.”
A little laugh left Heather’s lips. Harry smiled.
“We’re not going to move right now.” he continued, “I want to give you that, if we can, okay? I don’t know what might happen in the future but Dad’s always going to try his best. I can promise you that.”
Heather nodded sheepishly, feeling some of that teenage brand embarrassment following parental vulnerability. It was something she didn’t know what to do with though she knew it came from a place of love. And Harry had a lot of it to give, she knew that, too.
“Okay…” she said quietly, “thanks, Dad…”
Harry turned with a soft smile, pulling the car into their destination, smelling the signature aroma of fried food. He angled the car into a parking spot, as close to the door as he could get it, to keep it in eye shot - one of the things he did nowadays - and cranked the gear to ‘park’. Turning off the groaning engine, he leaned back in the driver’s seat and took a deep breath. Heather mimicked him; not to tease, but to calm, and looked at her dad. His dark hair was styled back as always with gray hairs peeking through more and more each day. His face was etched with fine wrinkles, especially around the eyes and mouth from his wide smiles, and it made Heather realize she didn’t know exactly how old he was right now. She had a vague idea but didn’t keep solid track - her birthday celebration usually well overshadowed his own. Harry’s hand moved towards her knee - landing solidly and giving it a familial wiggle - as Harry looked over at her.
“Hey.”
“Hi, Dad.”
“I love you, kiddo .” Harry said, voice jokingly choked up like his expression, eyes forcing themselves to water.
“I love you too, old man .” Heather jokingly sneered; nose wrinkled, teeth bared in a dramatic grin.
Harry’s laugh filled the car with warmth that threatened the return of real, emotional tears in Heather’s eyes. It was strange; hearing her dad’s laugh and feeling like part of her was miles away, yearning for a moment she was very much a part of. It was a sensation that struck her now and again. Like she had a past life or something like from one of the occult magazines she liked to read. She did her best to shrug it off as Harry’s hand left her knee and he motioned to leave the car. Even wrapped in jokes, she knew her meant every word of what he said.
“Alright!”
“Time to punish our stomachs?”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way; the only reason to eat this stuff, right?”
Leaving the car, the two made their way inside, elbowing and joking in the unmistakable way a father loves his daughter and a daughter loves him right back.
End.