akirali

My father had broad shoulders. That's what I remember the most about him. When I was younger I thought he was a giant, but as a grew-up I saw that he was on bigger than 5'8". But his shoulders were always broad. Even when I hit my growth spurt in 9th grade and shot up past him, his shoulders still looked big enough to carry the entire world. And it seemed like they always did. Especially after mom died.

He kept it together in front of me, but sometimes I'd walk past his room and hear him playing sad music and crying to himself. I think he only let himself miss her when he thought I wasn't around. He always wanted to show me how strong he was. I think keeping it all inside is what killed him. The doctors said it was cardiac arrest, but I know it was just a broken heart. He had never let himself love anyone but me since mom died. But it wasn't enough for him. He needed someone to love him as more than a daughter. He needed someone to love him like mom did, and he died because he never let himself find that someone.

It was my first year of college when I got word that he died. The plane trip back from Minnesota felt longer than humanly possible, but I finally made it back home to Philly. I was gone 8 months, but it felt like 8 years. All of my old friends had gone off to school too, and dad was the only family I had left. Both sets of grandparents wanted nothing to do with my folks after they eloped, even after I was born they never came to see me. Dad said they were stubborn and willful. Traits he and I both inherited.

After the funeral, I had to quit school. There was barely enough insurance money to cover the funeral and pay off the rest of the mortgage. Say what you will about dad's money issues, at least he didn't leave me with any bills after he passed. Besides, there was nothing left for me out in Minnesota. School was just what I was doing until I decided what I really wanted out of life. And my "boyfriend" (if you can even call him that) was more interested in psychoanalyzing me than sleeping with me.
When I came back home for the funeral I never told him. I wonder how long he tried calling my dorm room before he gave up. I may not have had any friends of family in Philly, but I had memories, and right then and there that's what I wanted most. I lived in my old house and kept my parents around me as memories floating through every crack and crevice of that old house.
Kenny eventually hired me to work at the record store because he got tired of telling me he didn't need anyone. Besides, the college kids he did hire were unreliable once school began, and I could work all day everyday. What else did I have going on? He didn't pay much, but my only expenses were food and utilities. I never learned to drive, and didn't have any vices other than music. And that was provided me as a perk of working at one of the last of the independent record stores in the area.

I eventually started to be more sociable than I was used to, mostly because of a dream I had one night where dad told me I was gonna end up shutting people out like he did, and end up like he did. It takes a lot for a dream to scare me straight, but this one did. I made friends with Emma, one of our regulars with good taste and a working turntable. Hell I even thought about dating again. Especially when I caught the cute guy at the coffee shop giving me the eye whenever I took my lunch in there.

Everything was just starting to become something vaguely resembling "normal". But then the pale guy with purple eyes showed up and started telling me about dreams I'd had, saying that I was supposed to have a role in some weird game, or war, or plan or something. I don't know why I trusted him, but I did. The minute he dragged me into the shadows I started to regret it. But he kept telling me I'd get to meet the man in my dreams. The man with broad shoulders who looked like my dad. What choice did I have?