I turned down my street; the place I still thought of as home was in the distance. The front porch light was lit like a welcoming beacon. Or I wanted to believe it was.
Should I have trusted my instincts and stayed away? No. This had been a long time coming. My parents, who’d done their best raising me, had been left wondering what happened to their only child. Because I had left them without a word. Vanished without a thought for their feelings or whether they’d miss me or not. They needed to know the truth. And it had to come from me, and me alone.
I slowly pulled into the driveway, put the truck in park, but left the engine on. Just in case… I thought to myself, as I stared at the single-story, vinyl sided house. I closed my eyes and found I could still recollect every inch of my home as I’d known it. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a combination kitchen and living area that had seen so much in the sixteen years I had lived there.
Did they remodel it since I’ve been gone? What did they do with my room—my stuff?
As I glanced out the windshield, fireflies sparked to life. They danced about in the growing dark, flashing their glow on and off, urging me to get out of the truck to catch them, like I used to when I was a kid.
I was so immersed in watching them that I didn’t see the front door open and someone step out. At first, there was just a blur of movement in my periphery, until I focused on the person standing on the brick stoop.
“Daddy?” I whispered, afraid to talk louder. Afraid I’d scare him back into the house.
Bob Morton didn’t get off the stoop, just stood there staring at the idling truck. He was probably wondering why it was in his driveway. His tall bulky frame was stiff, and his honed attention was aimed my way.
“Who is it, Bob?” I heard my mother’s soft voice come from behind the partially opened door, and I wanted to cry. The last time I heard her voice was when I had first arrived in Chicago. I had called, but I was too chicken to respond to her Hello. I’d hung up and didn’t bother to call again, because my emotions were still a jumbled mess at that time.
“I don’t know, Lidia. Stay in the house.” Dad stepped off the stoop and strode to the end of the walkway. “Can I help you?” he called out. His gruff tone made me chuckle. He always sounded tough, but I knew better. For a giant of a man, he was a teddy bear in my eyes.
Tears that I had held onto for so long began to trail down my cheeks. “Courage, Regi,” I told myself and finally opened the truck door and got out.
I stood there, silent, while I stared at my father, who looked so much older than his sixty years. Was it my absence that spackled all those wrinkles on his face? His hair had changed too. It had been thick and full. Now, it seemed much thinner. I couldn’t tell in the dark if was gray too.
“Bob.” I heard the screen door open, and I looked around my father and saw my mother standing on the porch.
“Hi, Dad. Mom.” I swallowed down the large lump in my throat before I continued. “It’s me, Regina.”
“Regina?” my father croaked out and stumbled toward me.
“Sweetheart, is that really you?” My mother raced past her husband and collided into me. Her arms wrapped tight around me like a vise. I could hardly take a breath, because she was holding onto me so tightly. “Regina.” She was crying.
She pulled back, not to release me but to take a good look at my face.
My father came around, “Give her to me. I need some squidges from my baby girl,” he said with wet eyes.
My mother barely moved before my dad engulfed me in a hug. He picked me up and then put me down, before he broke down into tears.
“Turn off the truck and come inside,” my mother said, a lilt of authority in her tone.
“Okay, once Dad lets go of me,” I squeaked.
“Sorry—not sorry,” he said with a watery smile before he released me.
As I shut off the truck, a chill raced up my spine. I darted a look down the street in both directions and spied an old beat-up Charger parked five houses down. It was running—I could tell by the rumbling sounds coming from the tailpipe. But that wasn’t what raised the hairs on the back of my neck. It was the way the vehicle was parked, against the flow of traffic, with the driver’s side next to the sidewalk.
“Come inside, we have some catching up to do,” my mom said after I locked the truck.
“We need answers,” Dad corrected.
“I’ll explain everything once we’re inside,” I said, before glancing once more down the street. Right as I stepped onto the stoop, that car passed the house, with the interior light on, and going much slower than it should.
I stared at the driver, with shock and fear flip-flopping my world. I gripped the front door for balance and sucked in a breath.
Teke.
He’d purposefully had the interior light on so I could see his face—his unhappy face. But I wasn’t elated to see him, either. I refused to look away. I stared back at him with utter disgust until he was completely gone from my sight.
One thing at time, Regi.
