Page 11 of The Guy Sure Looks Like Plant Food To Me
I can feel the heat of Runa’s stare.
Is it judgment that makes it so uncomfortable?
“I employed your daughter, I didn’t kidnap her,” Runa says confidently, not shrinking in my father’s presence.
There’s something about the way she stands up to him that gives me faith that there might just be someone out there who isn’t afraid of him. That maybe he won’t control my life until his or my last breath.
“She didn’t answer her phone.” Williams puffs up his chest, like intimidating a woman half his size is some sort of accomplishment.
Runa refuses to give him any sort of reaction, her response lacking inflection, “We fell asleep.”
My father’s scowl takes over his face, his outrage only growing as her explanation goes on. He sputters out some nonsensical noises, spittle flying through the room, landing on Williams. He’s a lanky one, all legs and arms with bright orange hair, his glasses are round with gold rims and he keeps a matching gold silk handkerchief in his suit pocket.
I hate every inch of him.
My father’s mindless drone with a hunger only for climbing the power ladder.
“For two days?” Williams inserts himself into my business, peering through the shelves and tables in Runa’s store.
She learns immediately that Seymour isnotmy friend.
I clench my jaw, peeling my upper lip up to bare my teeth at him, but he holds his ground, his gaze full of malicious intent, his smirk so sinister.
“Well?” My father asks, looking between the two of us, “Were you working or were you sleeping?”
“Uh-um,” I stutter incoherently, my nerves getting the best of me.
Williams takes the opportunity to leave through the front door, seeing that he’s done the task of disarming me enough for my father to trample over, as usual.
“Both,” Runa’s voice drips in annoyance, “We worked, got tired, and slept. I’m not a monster, I let my employees rest. Can you say the same?” Her stare drifts to the door Williams left from.
“Only further proving my point. This is not somewhere I’ll allow you to work, not during my campaign. I can see the tabloids now, ‘Christian Senator’s daughter, working at pagan Satan shop.’” He grabs me by the wrist, his grip tight enough to bruise. “I’ve already made arrangements with Williams for the wedding, we will plan a date for March.”
The words hit like the gong of a bell, disorientingly painful; I feel them vibrate throughout my entire being.
I collapse on the ground, his hold on my arm only adding to my discomfort, my shoulder joint pulling at the socket when he doesn’t let go. “No! Dadd?—”
“Sir.” Runa’s hand is on my father’s arm, the look on her face terrifyingly calm. “Please don’t touch her.”
My father’s eyebrows furrow, his hold on me only releasing to free his arm. He throws his entire weight into the slap, tossing Runa against the wall. A few framed items fall, glass cracking and breaking over her.
“Daddy!” I cry again, scattering away from him as fast as possible.
I crawl to Runa, but she’s barely conscious, in and out, eyes half shut as she mumbles sleepily. My father’s shadow looms over us, ready to strike, to cull away the seeds that we’d just planted before they’d even had a chance to grow.
“Sir—” Williams bursts through the shop door again, his eyes wide, his breath ragged as he wheezes, hands clutching his knees for support. “There’s something out here.”
No.
“Okay!” I jump up, “I’ll go with you.” Defeat is better when it’s on your own terms, at least this way I can pretend like I’m the one in control here. “I’ll get married to whoever you want, I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Let’s just go now, please, before she wakes up.” The tears come down heavy and fast, I can’t stop them nor do I want to.
There’s a deep throbbing in my chest, one I can’t find the words for. It’s grief, it’s heartbreak, it’s every type of sorrow you can imagine but for something I can’t name.
Something that was missed.
Something that never got to be.
Williams buckles me into the backseat with a look to him that says he’s won this one, my father’s dog, who always fetches and sits on command. His hand strokes my hair without gentleness, the sneer on his face showing his contempt for my hair color still being pink.
