4 chapter three | man recognizes her

In the morning I try to convince myself that Yesterday's memories were only a relapse. Everything is ok and I'm ok. I remember that I only had one nightmare last night and hope that it's a sign that the further I am from them the better. And now I'm refreshed and ready for something new.

For breakfast, I try to find someplace to eat but only find a small diner. I know before even going in that it will smell of burnt coffee and Greece but any coffee is good coffee and I haven't eaten since yesterday.

Although the coffee is burnt and tasteless The dinner still surprises me by having the best omelet I've ever had the pleasure of eating. A jukebox in the corner is playing hey Jude and two kids are fighting over crayons in a corner booth. I try to keep my nose in a book I bought but can't help but look up when a man walks into the dinner. In fact, everyone can't help but look up when this businessman walks in. it could be that they don't get many men in suits this far out in the country or his demanding and unforgiving denier demands attention from everyone in the room. Either way, the room seems to go still and the two kids seem to stop arguing and sit up straight.

Unfortunately, he makes eye contact with me and heads straight for the seat next to me on the bar. I hope to the heavens he doesn't want to talk because I am not and will never be the chatty type of person that will talk to total strangers, especially not this type of stranger.

The waitress comes right over and he tells her that he's here to pick up his order, and without another word, she's off to the kitchen. If I was trying to be inconspicuous before I was now trying to be invisible.

"Excuse me miss" he clears his throat. after an eye roll that I feel all the way in my soul, I look over at him. Without saying anything I assess him again and come to the conclusion that he must send his socks out for dry cleaning. "your John Hill's daughter aren't you? I believe we met once at a business lunch. If I can ask what are you doing all the way out here?" he asks while pronouncing every word of his sentence.

"Just passing through" this is not how I wanted today to go and not someone I ever wanted to talk to again. I remember him, while I don't know much about him or his business with my father I do remember him at some of our dreaded annual Christmas parties. He would always get drunk and hit on my mom within an hour of arriving.

"How fun. So how is your father?" thankfully the waitress comes over with is order raped up in a bag, giving me time to recover from his question. Has he not watched the news? Read a newspaper? Even the news would have gotten out here by now. Then I see him turn back to me with a smirk. He knows, the news has been broadcasting updates on the case to other cities. He knows what's happened to my family and now he's rubbing it in my face as if I already haven't had enough.

"Why don't you go ask him yourself," I tell him turning back to my plate, I will not play his sick game.

"I should give him a call, I haven't seen him in forever. We used to have some good times together." he laughs mockingly at me as he stands up to leave, "good to see you again, darlin," he says as he leaves. Darlin my ass, that man probably doesn't even know my name.

I storm out after paying. Why does life have to do this to me? Can't I just live out an invisible life? I pull my hair and sit down. Why would anyone want to know my father? And if you did you definitely knew what was happening in that house. He couldn't have been that terrible of a person; Why didn't he help? Why didn't anyone? Maybe my life would have ended up differently if someone had.

It's clear now that I need to get farther away from home, as many miles away from that place as I can. Because I never want to meet anyone from home or remember anything from that god awful town.

Isn't it funny what reminds you of home? It can be completely random. A smell. Or a honked horn. A woman's dress. For others, I guess those might be calming. It might bring them back to their beloved childhood home. But for me, every flashback hurts.

That night I drove for hours trying to get far away from where I am. It rained and it was beautiful. By seven, I found a big city with on-ramps, traffic, and skyscrapers. I imagine a person can easily become lost in a city like this. In the mass of people.

I walk around to soak all of it in. I'm reminded of a boy I once knew in high school who wanted to be a journalist he once sat in front of a bomb fire, cigarette in hand, blabbering on and on about how he wanted to treat places like people. He wanted to travel and interview buildings and make Maine streets tell him their story. People yelled at him to shut up but there was something beautiful about his passion for his dream. As I looked around that bomb fire i knew that we all would become gas attendants, cashiers, and teen mothers, but not him. Out of all of us, he was the one that could make it out. Unfortunately I lost track of him in the rush of high school and don't know what happened to him, but I can imagine him sitting on a bench listening to the stories being told. as I walk I try to do what he wanted to do by asking a stop sign what motivates it and a side of a glass building how it stands day after day. But no reply.

Then As I walk by a storefront a newsreel began to play catching my eye. The story is about a new case of domestic violence. About how an innocent man is on trial for murder, And how the only witness, his daughter, has run away. To the side, there is a picture of her and a number to call. But as usual, the media has it wrong. He is not an innocent man, and his daughter did not run away, she escaped.

So I got back in my van as calmly as I could and drive down the streets and avenues till I find the on-ramp. Onto the next town. Maybe I'll never find what I'm looking for. Maybe It's all for nothing and I'll die on the road, Unhappy and alone. I want to start over. Is it too much to ask?