Riptide

-1-

Three Months Later

I stared hesitantly at the bedroom before me. Dropping my duffle bag onto the floor, I slowly made my way across the room and sat on the edge of the bed. It was bigger than my room back home. My mom and I had shared a two-bedroom apartment back in Illinois, leaving little space for anything outside of our very few belongings. My dad's house, on the other hand, definitely did not have this same issue.

My parents had separated when I was six. My mom's first (and only) love was her art studio. My dad had always had a hard time coming to terms with this. So much so, that he had taken it upon himself to file for divorce and remarry within the span of a year. He is an architect; his new wife is a real estate agent. I have a feeling the irony is not as ironic as one may think. After the divorce, my parents decided that it was best for me to continue to live in Illinois with my mom and try to live as normal of a life as possible. That was a lot easier said than done.

"How do you like the room?" my father asked awkwardly, appearing in the doorway of my new bedroom. I tore my eyes away from an empty white wall and smiled politely.

"It's great, Dad," I replied, "thank you again for letting me move in."

"Of course, Dani," he murmured, "you know you're always welcomed here."

My dad and his new wife moved to Georgia shortly after the divorce. We didn't keep in touch that often – our only true form of contact was through holiday cards sent through the mail on rare occasions.

After my mom's death, however, I had decided that I needed to leave Illinois. Tyler had moved to Boston for school, my friends had become uncomfortable around me, and I couldn't bring myself to attend DePaul as originally planned. Hence, I packed up all of my belongings (a duffle bag of clothes and a carry-on suitcase filled with other knickknacks) and decided to call Georgia my new home.

"How are you holding up?" My dad asked, walking across the room and joining me at the foot of the bed.

I shrugged my shoulders helplessly.

"As good as one can, I guess," I responded, although I didn't necessarily believe it. I hadn't been able to sleep a full night without being woken up by nightmares. I cried more than I liked to admit. Life without my mom seemed pointless, confusing, lonely.

"It's okay to not always be okay, you know," my dad murmured, "I sure haven't been."

I glanced at my dad questioningly.

"I loved your mother, Dani," he said, turning his eyes upon the sky outside my bedroom window, "I still do. She may not be my wife, but I still see her as a friend. Losing her isn't easy for me, and I can't imagine how it must feel for you."

I blinked back tears, picking at a hangnail on my thumb.

"I know we didn't remain as close as you would have liked us to after the divorce," he continued, "and I take full responsibility for that. But I hope that I can take this horrible situation and turn it into something great by establishing a stronger relationship with your mom's greatest legacy – you."

My dad gathered my trembling hands in his and squeezed them tight. We sat for several minutes like that, crying in silence.

"Caroline won't be returning from work until later this evening," my father said after a while, "she had mentioned meeting at Joe's for dinner, if you're up to it."

My stomach lurched at the thought of food. I couldn't remember the last time that I had felt truly appetized. But I knew that I needed to eat.

"Sure," I agreed, although I had not a clue what Joe's was. I glanced down at the grungy clothes I had worn on my flight, "I'll get cleaned up and meet you downstairs."