Page 41 of My Rules for Revenge
“You’ll see.”
CHAPTER 11
HEATHER
Iwas at the graveyard with my mom, sitting quietly near my dad’s tombstone since it was his birthday. There were gray clouds overhead, which made it strangely ominous and coincidental because my dad hated stormy clouds. He always joked around and yelled at the sky to go away. Strangers would look at him like he was a complete lunatic, but it was only years later that I realized he had done that to make me laugh.
From the corner of my eye, I saw my mom quickly wiping away her tears so I wouldn’t see. I tried my best to keep mine in. I placed a bundle of red roses on top of his footstone. I quietly scoffed as I remembered the time that he and I went to buy roses for my mother’s birthday.
I was very young. We entered the sweet-smelling flower shop on a bright weekday morning. The strong fragrances filled my nose as we ran all over the shop, trying to find roses for my mom,her all-time favorite flower. My dad knew that if he managed to find them, she would be the happiest woman on Earth, and in turn, he would be the happiest man on Earth. He often told me that whenever they had arguments. He always told me he had to make her happy again.
After several sweaty minutes of dashing around the shop, we finally found the last bouquet of roses on a bottom shelf that was connected to the wall. It housed many different potted plants, flowers, and seeds. The bouquet of roses was a gust of air away from falling to the floor. My dad bent over and swooped it up. He hilariously squealed in joy while the shop owner gave him a dirty look. He was a grouchy old man who didn’t like “weird noises.” My dad told me that these types of men were in abundance and to never let them bring you down.
My dad took the bouquet of roses and placed it on the counter. The shop owner was busily organizing something beneath the counter while my dad patiently waited. Since he was taking his sweet time, my dad decided to check out the other flowers. He entertained me by inhaling them deeply and letting out a loud ahhhhh. As I laughed, I noticed that behind my dad, a young man with a buzz cut had rushed in. He grabbed the bouquet of roses we had placed on the counter and slammed it.
“Hey, I’ll get these,” Buzz-Cut said.
It was like my dad had materialized right behind him.
“Sorry, bud. I was gonna buy these. They’re for my wife,” my dad said.
My dad grinned at him, trying to be friendly.Buzz-Cutapparently didn’t appreciate that.
“Bro, you were over there. I saw these here alone, and I’m gonna get them. Sir, are you done down there yet? I need to go to work.”
Whenever my dad got angry, he first showed it by sucking in his lips and letting out a forced chuckle.
“Alright, man. I’m trying to be nice here. I got those first, and I’m buying them. I was over here with my daughter because I was waiting for the shopkeeper,” my dad said.
I remember that I got scared and grabbed my dad’s leg from behind. My dad towered over Buzz-Cut, but I didn’t want him to get into a fight.
“I’m not talking to you, Chinaman. Chill out!” Buzz-Cut asserted.
“I’m not from China,” my dad clarified.
My dad laughed aloud while the shopkeeper finally stood up. He told Buzz-Cut that he was selling the roses to my dad and that he wouldn’t entertain any nonsense. Buzz-Cut got pissy and flailed his arms a bit. My dad stared him down as he left the flower shop.
We paid for the roses and left without an issue until we stepped outside, and Buzz-Cut began mouthing off to my dad. My dad tried to ignore him, but once Buzz-Cut called him Chinaman again, he had had enough. He chased after Buzz-Cut, who tried to run away, and angrily hit him with the bouquet of roses. Once Buzz-Cut was on the floor, he was practically sobbing. My dad wasn’t an evil guy. He left him alone and told him he couldn’t treat people like that.
While this happened, I stood frozen in fear. I was only a little kid, after all. When my dad came back, he calmed me down by tickling me. He told me about a name that has stuck with me for a long time. He told me that people like that were angry at the world because their name was most likely “Dilbert.” These types of memories with my dad are the ones that are the most ingrained in my mind.
My mom stood up after kneeling in front of my father’s grave. I followed her out of the graveyard and waited for her to take out her car keys—she didn’t. She lingered around the entrance andlooked at the sky. I could already tell that she had something on her mind, and it absolutely involved me.
“I need to talk to you about something,” she said.
“What about?”
“One of the parents at the school overheard a rumor from her son.”
“Okay…”
“She told me something very disturbing. Apparently, scandalous pictures have been circulating around the school. These pictures are of you.”
I shifted uncomfortably and looked away because I didn’t want to look at my mom’s eyes. I was hoping she wouldn’t find out, but I was being naïve—it was only a matter of time.
“That girl looks like me, but it’s not me,” I lied.
“Wait, are you being serious?” she asked.
