Page 2 of Moved
“I refuse to have this talk with you again,” I said, less than half joking. The pillow muffled my words. Dad grabbed the pillow and pulled it from my face with a laugh.
“That’s not what I meant. And I don’t want to havethattalk ever again, either.”
I’d been fourteen when he traumatized me with a very clinical description of my body, sex, and impregnation. During that talk, he’d excused himself twice for a new hand towel to wipe the sweat from his face. By mutual silent agreement, we didn’t talk for two days after that.
“I just meant…” He sighed again and shifted uneasily on the couch. “If you wanted me to meet someone, you just had to say so. You shouldn’t leave him waiting in his car.”
I cocked my head and frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”
Dad glanced at Larry, his expression growing puzzled. Larry was studying me with a frown. I waited for one of them to clarify.
“The boy in the car across the street,” Dad finally said.
“What?” I hopped to my feet and rushed to the picture window. Pulling aside the curtain just a fraction, I caught sight of a familiar car. The driver, a guy I’d dated just once, stared at the house. His unruly blonde hair hung in his soft brown eyes. A smile curved his lips, and I knew he’d spotted me.
“Are you kidding me?” I stared at the driver as the car peeled away.
I couldn’t believe it. He’d followed me home. A weird boy just got a million times more weird, times creepy to the tenth power.
Dad stood behind me, looking over my shoulder. I’d fought so hard to go away to college. Dad would freak out and pull me back home if he knew I had apparently gained a stalker.
“What’s going on, Gillian?” He had that no nonsense tone that made me crinkle my nose. As much as I wanted to lie, I didn’t.
Turning away from the window, I went back to my seat. “I told you I’d gone on a few dates.”
He made a face and turned away from me as if he didn’t want to hear more.
“One was with that guy.”
My dad stopped and faced me, worry in his eyes. I hesitated, not sure what to say to make it so he wouldn’t overreact, and wished for the millionth time my mom was still alive. It was because of her that Dad was so overprotective. He’d loved her so much. Still did. Mom’s letter to me was right about one thing; he would do anything to protect me.
“It’s not a big deal,” I said finally. “He’s just trying to get me to go out with him again.” At least, I thought that might be why he’d followed me home. I didn’t really know. I hadn’t spoken to him since our one stilted date. He’d seemed nice enough then, though he had been just a bit too eager and a bit too clingy.
Dad gave me a hard look for several long seconds. I held my ground, not saying anything, acting cool about it. But I really wasn’t cool about it.Chuck had followed me home. After the date, I’d started noticing him around more. I could put up with his loitering around the dorm. I could put up with the long looks in the single class we shared. But following me home?
“Gillian, are you telling me he followed you home from school without you knowing it?” Dad said as if reading my mind. He didn’t wait for me to answer.
“Call the boys. I want him found,” he said to Larry.
Dads had occupations like mailmen, truck drivers...hell, even business executives. Not mine. He didn’t talk about his work in front of me, but comments dropped over the years brought me to believe a few things. First, my dadwasan executive of a business. But, that business involved late night dealings and hushed calls. I confronted him once, demanding to know if he dealt drugs. His sidesplitting laughter convinced me that he didn’t. I hadn’t yet ruled out guns. But whatever he did, he had employees—sort of. When he called, they showed up. Theseboysweren’t exactly nice. Also, they weren’t allowed in the house when I was home. I’d only seen a few of them by peeking out a window. They were big. They were scary. And they did exactly as my dad or Larry ordered.
The second thing I’d come to realize was that my dad had never called, or even thought of calling, the police in his life. It was probably due to his occupation. Or maybe the things my mom wrote in her letter. Probably both.
Larry nodded and plucked his cell phone from his vest.
I cringed. “Dad, don’t. His friends might know he followed me home. If you hurt him, I won’t be able to go back to school.”
“Who said anything about hurting him? And you’re not going back. Not until I talk to this boy.”
“What?” I tried to keep my calm.
“Gillian, I love you. I want you to be happy, but there are some things about our lives you just don’t understand.”
His statement stole any further protest from me. There were things I understood that he didn’t know about. Things in my mom’s letter. Things I wasn’t ready to reveal because he’d freak out even more. His overprotectiveness would skyrocket, and he was stifling enough the way it was.
“I’ll send a few of the boys out to sniff around,” Larry said, hanging up the phone and standing.
I rubbed my hands over my face. Since reading the contents of my mom’s letter, I had gained a better understanding of why my dad did the things he did, why he reacted the way he did. He just wanted to protect me from the monsters out there.Allthe monsters.
