The Others - 23. Chapter 23: Talking to my dad

I rode home really fast, intrigued to discover what my father had written in that letter which was folded up in my pocket.

“Dear Sandra,

I’m terribly sorry for what happened, for what I did.

You should know that I cannot ever forgive myself for what happened and that writing to you is the only way I can think of to show my regret.

The letter is not anonymous, I have signed it, so you can choose whether you want to bring charges or not.

I want you to know I never intended to hit your husband, the road was busy and I was a bit frustrated. I know there is no excuse for what happened and I wish I could undo it.

I don’t know what else to say.

If you need anything, you can call me. If you want to give my name to the police, you can do it. I should never have driven away from the accident, but I panicked.

I hope you can find it within yourself to forgive me.

David Rills.”

I didn’t expect this. Had my dad hit Codey’s dad with the car? Is that the reason he died?

The letter was never sent, there's no stamp on it.

Maybe my father wanted to send it, but was afraid? Maybe it's because of this that he ended up with them, because he felt guilty?

I sent Codey a text message when I came home, just so he wouldn’t feel upset, because I know my reaction to his question asking if we were in a real relationship was a bit brutal. It was all I could come up with.

It’s something I have thought about a lot and I made sure to never get into any kind of real relationship. I wouldn’t survive that. Hell, after spending several hours in someone’s company, I feel an urge to get some place quiet. I need to be able to keep my brain ordered. That, plus the fact no one will be able to understand me.

It’s getting late. My mom and I just had dinner, my brother didn’t show up again. My mom is able to worry a little less now when this happens, but I can still see she isn’t completely relaxed when Tyde doesn’t come home on time. Of course, he doesn’t care. He always thinks to himself: 'I have my own life, right? So I decide what I want to do with it.' In some way he isn’t wrong, but I think he should consider his family as well. That’s something he’ll never do.

Even though I’ve had my problems with Tyde, I don’t hate him. When I was young I always imagined there would be a time when both he and I would be older and that then he would regret how selfish he had been. He'd come up to me then and say: “Adam, I've thought about our childhood and I've suddenly realised how difficult I must’ve been. I’m sorry for that.”

When I told my mother about this dream of the future, she very sincerely told me: “I wouldn’t get your hopes up. I think your brother will never apologise, simply because he doesn’t see any reason to do so. He doesn’t think he is doing anything wrong.”

“Then why do we spend so much time trying to help him. Why didn’t we abandon him?”

“That’s what love does, Adam. It binds us to people and in the end we do things for those people we can’t really explain. The reason you don’t hate Tyde, even though he causes so much pain for us, is because he is your brother. Cherish that, you don’t have much family, it would be a waste to forget how it feels; brotherly love.”

I never forgot that particular conversation.

It’s getting late and as I had promised myself I switch on the computer. Hopefully Seth is online.

Wait… Hopefully? What does that mean?

He is online!

I see a message from him.

“Hey AB.”

"Hey Seth. How are you?”

"I’m fine. I read your email. To be honest, when you suddenly used my name I was kinda scared. I don’t know you and apparently you knew me, so that scared the living crap out of me.”

"Haha, I can imagine. Sorry for not telling you, I totally forgot about it. In my head your name was already Seth, didn’t want to keep that secret or something.”

"No biggie. It’s kinda cool that the huge anonymous blogger spent time finding out my name. (Blushing Smiley)”

I smile to myself.

“I didn’t continue the stalking though. So, tell me about yourself.”

"What do you want to know?”

"Well, you are attending a Catholic school and asked me to write a specific text for you. That’s not a request I get often.”

"So, what do you want to know?”

For some reason it feels special to be able to talk like this with Seth. Maybe that’s because he probably finds it special to chat with me. I’m this famous person, of course he likes it.

“What’s your story? Who are you? What are your hobbies, what do you like about the blog, what don’t you like?”

"Wait, am I supposed to tell about me while I don’t even know your name?”

“I’m the anonymous blogger, staying anonymous is kinda my thing.”

“I’m the anonymous reader. At least, that’s what I was before you started stalking me (Laughing Smiley). So, argument invalid.”

"Okay, you win. What do you want to know?”

"You are 17, but you are famous. You probably earn a lot of money? So, do you still go to school?”

"Yes, I go to school. Being called the anonymous blogger is a name more fitting than people think. No one knows I’m a writer.”

“Not even your family.”

"Nope.”

Does this change things now Seth knows? I don't think so, he doesn’t know it’s me, but still, he got some personal stuff from the AB. So he knows a bit about the person behind the name. Does that make me less anonymous?

"Wow… isn’t it hard to keep it a secret?”

"Haha, believe me, I got used to it. I’m good with secrets.”

"Does that make you a liar?”

"I don’t know. Does it?”

It takes a while before I get a response.

“Doesn’t it make you feel bad?”

"What?”

"Lying is a bad thing. Your job is to lie.”

It's not the lying that makes me feel bad, but the fact Seth thinks about it like that. I don’t want him to think about me like that.

“I don’t think about it as lying. In fact, in my blogs I tell others about some of my deepest thoughts. Isn’t it a human thing to keep those thoughts secret? So, actually I’m telling something others normally keep a secret? So that makes me more honest than others?”

“Do you think that? Do you think it’s normal you keep your deepest thoughts a secret?”

"Don’t you? Do you tell all your thoughts?”

“Not to everyone. But there is always someone that I can talk to.”

"Who’s that.”

“My best friend.”

Sam? Is he talking about Sam?

Time flies when talking with Seth. We carry on our conversation about friendships, about religion, and about family. We talk about so much and I can't help being interested in what he thinks about certain topics. I’ve been so busy spreading around my own thoughts and opinions that maybe, just maybe, I never really payed attention to what others think. But now I realise I like knowing what other people think.

Then Seth suddenly says:

“I really like talking to you. As a person you now got an extra dimension for me. I like that new aspect. But, it’s getting late and I have school tomorrow.”

I look at the clock. It’s 2 am.

"You’re right. I have school tomorrow as well.”

And this isn’t a lie. For some reason I feel obligated to go to school, just as Seth is going to do. I kept him up, he lost a few hours of sleep because of this. If he goes, I have to go as well. I probably won't get much sleep either, that guy really made me think about things. Do I need someone to talk to as well? Did I maybe start the blog only because I had no one to talk to, to share my thoughts with?

I fall asleep thinking about that and I dream about having a good friend. I dream about a good friend I once had. I dream about Yuri.

When I wake up early in the morning, I notice I’m crying. The dream about Yuri was so vivid. I haven’t thought about him in like a week. I didn’t open the picture of him either. My life was too busy with Codey, so I wasn’t able to fall into the black pit of regret. But after this night, a night in which I spent all my time talking to Yuri. Just talking, nothing sexual, nothing that would give away I like him. No, just talking.

Or is that something that gives away I like him? When you can talk to someone like I did in my dream, does that mean you like that person? Ughh, so many question, so few answers.

I get up and make some breakfast. I’m early and I guess I won’t be late for school today. I don’t want to go, it’s the last day. Of course we won’t be doing anything serious today. It would be better if school would skip the last day. School is about teaching, right? And if they don’t teach, then it’s not important. So, if they skip the last day of school…

Then yesterday would’ve been the last day, I think with a smile. So then we wouldn’t have done anything at all, because it’s the last day. So we’d better skip that as well. And the day before yesterday, because if that’s the last day. Wait… Maybe they better skip the whole year? It’s all the last day, right? Oh god, I got into a thought feedback again. Hurry, get out of it! Otherwise I’ll be late for school again. I shove the last bite of sandwich into my mouth and go and get my bike. I arrive in time to hear the first bell ringing.

While walking through the entrance I look up to see where the sound is coming from. I never even wondered if it was a real bell or if it’s electronical.

“Bet this is the first time you heard the morning bell,” Marcus walks over with a huge grin on his face. “What are you doing here so early? On the last day of school as well!”

“I wanted to find out why you guys complain about it all the time. I don’t see any difference, the school is exactly the same in the morning, right?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I don’t think you being here makes the mornings any better.”

“I take that as a compliment. So, what do you guys do on the last day of school?”

“Just the same as other days. Wait… Did you never go to the last day?”

I laugh. “Is that a question?”

“Shit man, I wish I were you.”

“No, you don’t.” We walk to our class together.

“I’m looking forward to Sunday,” Marc says as Brian joins us.

I look confused. “What are you gonna do Sunday?”

“Man, Sunday is the party,” he says.

Oh yeah, the party that I so desperately want to be over already. The only good thing is that I will be leaving on Monday. And I won’t come back…Right? Oh shit… I didn’t finish the letter to my mom yet. I can just call her… That’s more personal than a letter. And I can’t just leave her without saying something. What if she thinks I’m dead. Or what if she thinks I left because of her?

“We need someone to get us some beer for the party,” Brian says right before we enter the classroom.

That day was exactly like other days. It was boring! I was very happy when it was finally over. Now I can go home! I survived another year of school, one more to go.

Knowing Seth would be home earlier today gives me the energy to rush home faster than I normally do. Just as I enter the house my phone starts ringing. As I answer it I feel silently proud of myself that I charged it last night. For once the thing isn’t dead.

Looking at the screen it’s Codey calling. Who else?

Then I hear a voice and immediately wish I hadn’t charged my phone yesterday.

“Hey Matt. It’s David, Codey’s dad.”

“Oh,” I stutter. “Hello.”

“I borrowed my son’s phone,” he says, and I think: You didn’t borrow my phone. “I think I need to talk to you.”

“Okay. Go on,” I say. Oh god, I can’t tell how scared I am. Way too scared to even realise this is the first time ever I'm hearing my own father’s voice. Does he know about me? Does he want to talk about me and his son doing stuff together? Please, get it over with. “When you were with Codey yesterday,” he says. Here it comes! “Did you by any chance enter my study?”

Oh shit!… Oh shit!… What to do? My brain is screaming: never have someone find out about your lies! Okay, fast. Does he know I entered his room because he has camera’s? Or did I move something accidentally? I need to know… Or did he notice the letter was missing? Wait a second… He is the one whose lies have been discovered. That’s the worst thing that could happen, right?

“Why would you think that?”

“Something went missing the day you were here. I asked my son, but he didn’t go into my study. He knows he's not allowed to be there.”

Got’cha! Something went missing. Nicely done, you just gave me the control over this conversation. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I sit down slowly on the couch. I make sure no one is home to hear the call.

“Why is nobody allowed in there? Is there something in the study you don’t want them to see?”

“No, that’s not it. But I need my privacy sometimes. That’s what the study is for.”

“Thank you sir,” I say with a smile on my face.

“For what?”

“You just taught me the words privacy and secrets are synonyms, I never knew that. That’s what you were saying right?” Okay, I have to admit; maybe this isn’t the best first conversation with my dad. But hell, he makes it so easy.

“Are you challenging me young man?”

“Does it feel that way?” I don’t wait for a reply. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to tell your son or your wife anything.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” I say, “in return you are going to buy me beer for a party this Sunday.” Blackmailing my own dad? Woah, I did not see this coming.

“The game you’re playing right now,” my father says, “you don’t know how good I am at that.”

“Oh believe me, David, I know. I know. Remember, this Sunday… beer.” With that I hang up.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how my father and I first met.