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CHAPTER 2 (28 DAYS EARLIER, THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL.)

  I open the front door of my house to find my dad standing there waiting for me. Immediately I start to defend myself. "Sorry dad, I know I'm like thirty minutes late but we couldn't find Kaylee's car in the parking lot at the mall. We had to walk around for twenty minutes only to realize we were looking on the wrong level. Kaylee left her phone in her locker today at school and my phone died, otherwise I would have called you. Please don't be mad." I spit out my reasons way too quick wondering if it even made sense. Holding my breath waiting to hear what punishment will ensue.

  My dad smiles and gives me a hug. I breathe a sigh of relief as he says, "It's okay honey. Look, we need to talk." I look at him worried but he clarifies, "you aren't in trouble."

  He leads me to the living room and I sit down on our ugly, overstuffed brown couch. I settle into the same spot I’ve been sitting in since I was three. I’ve sat in it so long that it’s molded to the shape of my body. Although, it hasn’t always been my spot; it originally belonged to my Mom. I claimed it when she disappeared shortly after my third birthday. I only have a few brief memories of her. I remember vividly how she smelled, like lavender and vanilla with a touch of baby powder. Her scent remained on the couch for a while after her disappearance. I remember sitting in this spot on the sofa for the first few years after she was gone. I would close my eyes and try to block out everything but the scent she left behind. I would imagine that she was sitting next to me singing me a lullaby.

  I know that the scent has gradually faded over the years but even today I feel as though I can still smell a small trace of her. It reminds me of how much I miss her; all I have left is the memory of her scent and a picture that I carry with me everywhere. It’s a picture from my third birthday. My mom is bright and happy, swinging me in the park. Her hair is long and wavy. It has the beautiful color of straw being kissed by the sun. In the photo my smile is slightly eclipsed by the brilliance of hers. You would never have known that only a few months after this photo was taken she would be gone.

  The memory of that day still haunts me... I threw a tantrum the size of Texas when my mom dropped me off at my aunt’s house that morning. I kept crying and throwing myself to the floor. At one point I even held onto my mother’s leg when she was trying to walk out the door. I knew I shouldn’t be throwing a fit, after all, my mom took me to my aunt’s house two days a week when she went to her part time job. I love my aunt and I should have been used to it. I just felt like something was wrong that day. Maybe it was a premonition or something, but I remember not wanting my mom to leave.

  When my mom finally pried me off her leg she sat me down and put her hands on my shoulders trying to get me to calm down. She said, “Now Emma, is this how a three and a half year old should be acting?” I shook my head as tears continued to fall down my cheeks. “You’re right Emma. You are a big girl now and I need you to act like one. I will be back to pick you up before you know it. For the mean time I need you to be a good girl for your auntie. Can you do that for me?” I gave an over exaggerated nod. “That’s my big girl. Now, mommy will be back before you know it. I love you this big.” She held her arms out wide.

  I mimicked her motion and replied “Love you this big too mommy.” She gave me a bear hug then left.

  Little did I know that those would be the last words we would share and that would be our final embrace. I never saw her again after that morning. They told us that she had gone out to run an errand for work but she never returned. Her car was found outside a grocery store parking lot.

  My Dad, with me in tow, tried to search for her nonstop for a year. The police were involved too; but after a few weeks of searching they dismissed the case due to a ‘lack of evidence’ since there was no sign of a struggle or foul play. They didn’t have any other reason to believe that she did anything other than just pick up and run out on her family. My dad and I knew better though. She was not the kind of wife or mom that would ever do that to her family. She was loving, kind and full of so much good.

  My dad hasn't been the same since we lost my mom. Prior to our loss, his friends would have described him as jovial, and the life of the party. They would say that he was never seen without the dimples showing in a smile on his face. I wish I could describe him as his friends once did.

  He is actually a rather handsome man with salt and pepper hair, masculine brown eyes and a tall sturdy frame. Unfortunately, I rarely see those big dimples and his eyes always look haunted. It’s not that my dad doesn't smile or that he mopes around the house all the time. It’s just that there seems to be something missing in him. Happy moments that are just an inch shy from being truly happy or his smile never quite reaching his eyes. I guess I can’t really blame him; he was left with no answers.

  I think the hole left in my dad’s heart was broken beyond repair. Nothing could ever occupy it again the way my mother did. Sometimes I think that’s the reason he is so caught up in his work; he’s trying to fill that void my mother left.

  Please don’t get me wrong, my dad hasn’t checked out on me or anything. He still makes sure I have everything I need; he shows up to my school performances and shows me that I am loved. It’s just that he has a sort of emptiness about him that I can’t fill and neither can his work; emptiness only my mother could have satisfied.

  When I was younger it hurt when I saw the loneliness in his eyes I would wonder why I wasn’t enough to make him happy. It took me a while to realize his loss and sadness was about their love not me. I guess some good has come from it though. Over the years I’ve managed to grow more independent. I’m probably one of the more capable teenagers I know. I could be thrust into the world on my own tomorrow and survive just fine.

  I’m brought back to the present as my dad clears his throat; “Emma, you know that I love you and that you are my top priority right?” He begins to nervously pace the room putting me completely at unease.

  I look at my dad and nod, considering his angle.

  “I was offered an opportunity to pursue my career on a whole new level. You know that what I do means a lot to me. Especially since...” My dad averts his eyes and takes a deep breath to regain his composure. He never likes to talk about mom being gone.

  My dad is very passionate about his career. When he describes what he does for a living he describes it as giving hope to the hopeless. Most of my dad’s clientele consists of people who have all but given up on the idea of peace until my dad believes them and offers to help. Peace can come in a variety of different ways including helping people who witness the paranormal. For those who have witnessed different events or have seen paranormal phenomenon they often are never believed. See, we live in a world today that if we don’t see it, it doesn’t exist. Most people in America know about poverty but they choose to turn their heads away so they don’t have to acknowledge the stark realities. Therefore, if they don’t see it, they don’t have to do anything about it. My dad is the complete polar opposite. Faith is what he lives and breaths. He provides his clients with a little bit of faith by believing them and not writing them off as outlandish people. He even sets forth to help document these events, to provide some sort of relevance and give them peace of mind. Even when he isn’t able to obtain any type of tangible evidence, the people that he tries to help still feel comforted that they are not alone. That someone out there shares in their belief that the paranormal does occur.

  I used to travel with him all over the globe for his assignments when I was younger and couldn’t stay home by myself. I was never given the opportunity to witness anything paranormal first hand because dad felt it was important to shelter me from the unknown. I was able to sit in on the initial interviews, but was never taken into the field. My dad responded to a vast number of claims of ghosts, werewolves, vampires, aliens, etc. I wish I had witnessed something truly paranormal because to me it all seemed a bit preposterous and unbelievable. To my dad there was always a thread of possibility; he i
s more of a glass-half-full kind of guy.

  My dad composes himself and turns back towards me. “I’ve been offered an opportunity to do a full documentary on certain events that have been happening on an island in Hawaii. It’s an opportunity that will pay well beyond some of my other, shorter assignments.”

  I thought about how my dad has sacrificed so much for this career, often times he would get so little in return financially. I have never understood what kept him motivated. To be completely honest, over the past few years I’ve started to get a little annoyed with this “career” of his. I’ve been vocal about it too. I think my dad just writes off my concerns and complaints as me being a hormonal teenage girl. Sometimes though, I wish that I could have been a normal kid who still had her mom and whose dad didn’t investigate paranormal events. It would have been great when I was younger if we could have gone on normal vacations to the beach or something instead of hunting down unknown creatures. It was always tough going back on the first day of school and answering the question I dreaded the most, “So what did you do on your summer vacation?” How could I have answered that? “Oh, I sat in a hotel room while my dad chased down some phantoms in Maine,” or “I spent the summer listening to my dad talk about testing ‘animal’ droppings to see if it could have come from a possible wolf/human hybrid.” Yuck! Each year I just settled with “Not much of anything,” as my answer. I figured it was safe, especially if I didn’t want to spend the year being the crazy girl that lives with an eccentric father.

  My dad waves his hand in my face, “Hello, Emma, are you listening to me?”

  I look up at him. “Oh, sorry, well that’s cool, I’m happy for you, dad.”

  Then the words came rushing out of his mouth all in one quick breath, “So, Emma, that means we are going to be moving to Hawaii.”

  He looked at me with a face just short of a cringe. Maybe he has some supernatural powers and can read the future about how I was going to react.

  My mind begins reeling as I try to process what he just said. I thought he was talking about a vacation, not moving!

  I ask my dad, “So does this mean that you’re moving in the summer?”

  My dad answers lightly, talking to me like a small child, “No honey, it means we are moving in a month.” His insinuation on the word we, makes me cringe.

  My brain is struggling, trying to process this last tidbit of information. A month! What? There is absolutely no way! We aren’t going anywhere in a month when I’m in my senior year. “I’m not moving anywhere!” I yell at my dad.

  I jump up from my comfy couch and begin pacing the living room. My brain begins turning the gears as alternate solutions invade my mind. “I will move in with Kaylee and her mom or something, but there is no way that you are dragging me to some other country when I’m only four months from graduation. I am going to be eighteen next month and you can’t make me!”

  I am seething, I’m so angry that my dad could even contemplate doing this to me. I realize that I’m throwing an immature fit; I also realize that Hawaii is not another country…I am an A student after all. In my opinion though, Hawaii might as well be another country. It’s thousands of miles away. It’s an island for goodness sakes, surrounded by water and sharks! I start to take my dramatic exit towards my room but my dad steps in my path.

  “Emma, I realize that your graduation is coming up. I thought about this for several weeks and I originally turned down the offer. They came back to me with an offer that I couldn’t refuse. You have to understand Emma, this is what I do. This is the type of break that I’ve wanted for a long time. The opportunity in itself is too beneficial for our family to pass up. The money alone will cover your college and set us up for a good while. I need you to please support me on this; I know it’s not the best timing.” He takes a second to inhale a deep breath letting the intensity of the recent conversation fade. “I did consider letting you stay here with Kaylee, but I couldn’t take being away from you for that long. I know your mom would never stand for me to leave you when I’m so far away. She wouldn’t want it and neither do I.” His voice becomes soft as he says the last words. He looks at me with pleading eyes that are lined with tears.

  I can’t believe he pulled the mom card. Of course she wouldn’t want for us to be apart, but I’m sure she wouldn’t approve of him dragging me thousands of miles away during my senior year. If she were here, I’m positive she would object for me. A tear escapes down my cheek. I quickly brush it away with the back of my hand. This is all too much! I push passed my dad and run to my room, slamming my door as I throw myself on my bed. This time I just let the tears fall freely.

  A few seconds later, my doorknob begins to turn, but stops just shy of opening. I hear his head lean up against the door. A small sigh escapes him. “Emma, honey. I love you so very much. I know that this is hard for you to understand right now and I don’t expect you to be able to process everything in a night. I will be in my room if you feel like talking.” He hesitates for a moment before he slowly releases the doorknob. I hear his footsteps walking slowly away, down the hall, towards his room.

  I eventually cry myself to sleep thinking about how much I miss my mom.