Mafially Yours

Elena

For those who like guys with warning signs.

Red is my favorite color too.

I can clearly remember the moment my dad got shot right in front of me, but what hurts the most is not being able to picture the face of the actual shooter. I wouldn't recognize him even if he walked past me. On that fateful day, my dad decided to take me on a trip to escape from work stress and spend some quality time with me. Little did I know that it would end in pain and sorrow.

Initially, I was afraid of the ocean, but that fear faded as I grew to love it. I started appreciating the gentle waves that softly approached my feet, creating a soothing crashing sound. The water's rhythm echoed my heartbeat, forming a beautiful melody. The breeze tousled my hair, turning them into wisps that touched my face and floated above my head. I cherished everything about the ocean and wished I could stay there forever.

"Are we ready to go?" my dad asked.

Wanting to savor the ocean a bit longer, I replied, "Not yet." He nodded and went to check us out of our hotel suite. He assured me he would join me shortly, and he did.

After settling the bill, he signaled that he was ready, and I followed him to the car.

"Wait, before we leave, I have something for you," he said, holding my hand and reaching for his pocket. He pulled out a box.

Smiling with curiosity, I asked, "You got me a gift?" and hugged him.

"Yes," he replied, handing me the box. I opened it to find a silver necklace with "Nana" on it - his affectionate nickname for me. My smile widened.

"This is gorgeous, Dad. Thank you," I put it on, admiring its beauty. He grinned.

"Come on, let's go. We'll be late."

The drive was quiet but comforting. Although the silence tempted me to close my eyes, I resisted. I wanted to stay awake. Time with my dad was precious, and I didn't want to miss any part of it, even the journey home.

"Sleep, Peach, if you want," he suggested.

"No, I'll stay with you," I blinked repeatedly, trying to stay alert. "I really enjoyed this trip. It's kind of sad that it's over."

"We'll have more. We can come here again next time I take a break from work."

"Your work is tough; you never get breaks."

He chuckled, "I promise I'll try to make the next break sooner than this time."

"We'll see," I teased. The silence returned, and I gazed out the window, watching the trees pass by like scenes from a movie. The wind brushed against my face, but I refused to close the window. I enjoyed the feeling, captivated by the beauty around me, even if my eyes teared up from the wind. I guess something in the breeze was to blame.

"What's wrong?" He concernedly asked.

"Something got in my eye," I whined as I wiped it. I hissed, "Damn it."

"Do you have tissues? Try to wipe it."

"I don't. Do you?" I started looking with one eye open around the car to find anything to wipe my eye with. "Do you have it here?" I opened the glove box in front of me. I silently gasped. It was a picture of my dad with a woman. My heart dropped. Is that mom?

"Elena! Close that." He pushed it back. My brain was acting so slowly that I didn't move for another minute, trying to comprehend what just happened. Was that really mom? Why did I never see that picture? Why didn't he want me to see that picture? We never talked about her. I knew talking about her made him sad, and I hated seeing his widened eyes closed and the disappointment that filled his face when I mentioned her. But I knew nothing about her.

"Was...was that...mom?" It felt weird saying that. His silence made me sure it was her. That was mom. I saw what my mother finally looked like at twenty-three years. I never met her. I never knew what she looked like or what she acted like. Whenever I ask about her, he changes the subject. I never knew if she was even dead. I grew up making myself believe that she died when she got me, and he is scared to tell me that. "Dad, I'm old enough now to know what happened to her."

"Am I not enough for you?" he jokingly asked.

"Dad," I sighed. The same sentence he says every time I mention her name.

"I don't get why you want to know, seriously. It's not important." He said, "She's just not...around. She never was." His calm voice became aggressive, and I didn't know why.

"Did she cheat on you?" I brutally asked, expecting him to be broken or angry. But he laughed.

"What are you saying, sweetie?" He hit the wheel, laughing some more.

"Then what happened, Dad?"

He coughed. "Let's talk about this later. Now tell me, what are you planning on doing when we get back? I don't think I will be staying the night at home. I have to go check on the company."

"Dad," I paused, "I'm letting it go this time, it's long overdue. No! Not this time." I insisted on knowing. Before, I didn't care much, I only asked when she crossed my mind, wondering where she went, what she did, if she died, and why she died, but he didn't answer. I would drop it and get taken aback by whatever he said next. But her picture choked me. Why is her picture in his car? And why did he never show it to me?

"What would you like to know?" The way he asked this made me sure that whatever I said next, he would not take it seriously.

"What happened to Mom? And why is her picture in your car when you never showed it to me? You told me you don't have pictures of her because she hates taking pictures."

"She did."

"Then what is this?" I opened the glove box again and pointed at the picture. I stared at her some more. She was beautiful. I softly smiled. She looked kind of like me. She had wavy, dark hair and hazel eyes. Her smile was flawless.

"I...didn't know I left that there."

"Still?" I raised my eyebrows, "when did you think you didn't have it anymore?"

"I don't know, Elena. It probably got here with some documents I keep there or something. I don't know."

"What is wrong with getting to know her or even seeing her? And why are you never telling me about her?"

"Because it's best for you that way."

"Dad, I want to know."

"I don't want you to; it is what is best for you and me even." His voice became louder.

"Dad, but I'd like to know; she is my mom, and I deserve to know, don't deprive me of this."

"What do you want to know?"

"Why is mom not around?"

"Because she left."