Chapter One

Silhouette One

“You’ll always be your mother’s daughter, that’s for sure.”

I looked up. It was my father who had uttered those words, of course. I couldn’t count the number of times he had said them. One would think he loved my mother so much and that since I looked so much like her, he would be emotional or something every time he looked at me.

But nope that wasn’t the case. As usual, he had gone out to gamble. Then he had lost, as usual, putting us in even more debt than we were already. And then he had drank a lot to “take away his sorrows” or something like that. And now he was standing in front of me and was going to start spewing words at me so I could feel as bad as him—or even worse.

“Dad, you’re drunk. Let’s get you to your room.”

I left the computer and went towards him so I could assist him into his room. If I left him all alone, it usually morphed into something out of some soap opera. He would drunkenly shout out the most stupid things, then probably lose his footing somewhere, pass out, then wake up the next morning in a pool of his own vomit.

I had seen it happen too many times not to know how it was going to go.

“Don’t touch me, you filthy whore. That’s all you were ever good for. Fucking.”

I swallowed the hurt I felt at his words. I knew they were not directed to me, but to a mother I had never known. But I couldn’t help but feel defensive. She was my mother. She had brought me to this earth, hadn’t she? I didn’t think she was as terrible as Eric Graham—my dad—made her out to be.

I had heard a lot of things over the years, things a child—actually, things no one should ever hear. It had been pretty traumatizing. Imagine growing up and being told, your mother “was too fucking pretty for her own good, and that’s why she fucked everything that moved.”

Or, “you look like your whore of a mother. I bet you’re going to spread your legs just as much as she did.” I had tried my best to make my father proud of me, in spite of all he had ever said. But I was twenty three now, and I was still as far from the goal as I was at six.

“Dad, don’t do this. You’re just going to be sick again,” I said softly, trying to cajole him.

“Get your hands off me!”

I sighed. 

It was sad to say this was a regular occurrence. Dad comes back drunk and angry after losing at his games. I try to lead him to his room so I can change him and get him to bed. He proceeds to insult me and my deceased mother, while refusing to cooperate with me. And when I finally do get him to his room, we are both tired. My mood is ruined and I can do no more work for the rest of the night.

I had wanted to move out as soon I was done with college. But with view of everything, the expense of an apartment when we already had this house for would be a luxury. 

It was a miracle that my dad had not touched the fund my mom had left for my college education. He had ran through the income of the family business so suddenly, that Wilson & Son which used to be successful, or so the other people of this weird little town tried to tell me, had become run down and debt riddled.

“That bitch has to curse me. Give me a daughter that looks exactly like her,” my dad muttered.

I sighed inaudibly. I was used to his dumb words. But that did not mean they didn’t hurt either. It was no secret that my father had always wanted a son. And I had ended up being the only child he had had with my mother. You would have thought he would remarry so as to get other children, but apparently my mother had “ruined women for him.” 

He was now a certified woman hater. And not even me, his daughter, was exempt from that hatred.

“Dad, please move. Let’s get you to your room.”

“You’re a fucking dumb bitch! I didn’t tell you I needed your help!” he said, then he slipped and lost his balance, falling straight on the couch behind him.

I fought the tears that were threatening to fall. I should be used to all of this by now. The insults, the condescension, the blows. But there was still some part of me that holding out and hoping for change. I was hoping that he would come to his senses one day and that he would be remorseful about the way he had treated me.

I watched as he flailed helplessly on the couch. I knew if I offered him a hand, he was just going to rebuff me. And I wasn’t ready for the hurt that would come along with that action so I watched him struggle until he actually gained his balance then stood. 

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Don’t ask me dumb questions.”

I watched him as he went towards the direction of his bedroom, making sure that nothing happened to him. When he got in and banged the door so loudly I winced, I was convinced he was okay and so I went back to the my computer, opening it and staring unseeingly at the screen.

It was hitting hard. Everything was hitting hard right now. The house we were in had been in the family for generations. The business had been in the family for a long while as well. I didn’t want to imagine losing it.

All my life, since I had been a little girl of six, I knew I wanted to take over the business. A lot of my friends had dreamed of leaving this town for bigger cities, and some of them had actually left. But my destiny was in Youngstown and I wouldn’t leave if I had absolutely no choice.

And with every passing day, it seemed like I had no choice in reality. This town, while not really that small, was not crawling with opportunities, especially when everybody knew the reputation of your father. Who wanted to hire the daughter of one of the biggest drunks and gamblers in the town? It didn’t matter that I wasn’t the same. Reputations tended to follow each other here.

So there was no chance of a brighter future for me here. But I knew I was brilliant. I knew the bigger cities had a lot in store for people like me. And that if I was resilient, I was going to find something that would truly help the business stand on its feet.

I sighed and put my head down. I was scared to even look in the mail because the bank had surely sent a notice. Seeing all the zeros was probably going to give me a heart attack and I would become one of the youngest people to die of a heart attack.

Plus, Wilson & Son had stopped bringing in profit. I had tried to get my dad to sign it over to me or at least give me actual management so I could make major decisions, decisions I thought would be beneficial for us. But I was apparently useless.

It made me so mad. I wished I could just shake him and bring him back to his senses, if he had ever had them in the first place. He was letting his bad image of my mother cloud his head, and it was because of that image that I couldn’t do anything worthwhile.

I had proposed to sell the house, or at least rent it out. But the look he had given me had quenched all my ideas. And I had so many of them. The house was extremely big; about six rooms. We were just too of us. And we definitely couldn’t afford what the bank was asking us to pay every month. 

But it was a “family tradition” for the house to pass from son to son. And so I had to keep quiet. I almost had no say in it. Almost? I had no say in all this. It was sickening and the worst thing was, there was nothing I could do to stop it. 

I sighed and looked down at the computer. Soon I wasn’t even sure we would be able to afford electricity and water bills. Luckily enough, Wilson & Son was not far from home so I didn’t have to worry about gas of all things. 

That was enough worrying for the day, I thought. If the person who had caused a lot of our problems could sleep peacefully, then I was going to try as well. I was stressed out but I didn’t want to look it.

I put the computer on sleep then walked tiredly to the room, but being able to stop my mind from drifting to the thoughts of a knight in shining armor coming from nowhere to help me with all this. Then I shook my head. It was of no use to wish for futilities; it was never going to happen.

I climbed into bed and closed my eyes, willing sleep to reach me faster.

***

I didn’t realize when I had fallen asleep. But when I woke up the next morning, I had could recall in vivid detail the dream I had had. Maybe thinking about a Prince Charming had had more of an effect on me than I thought.

In my dream, someone had come and defended me from my father’s vile words, protected me, paid all the debts off and helped me accomplish my dreams. It was nice to escape reality for a while. Even if it was the most unrealistic thing I had ever dreamt of. Unicorns were more likely to happen.

The first thing I saw when I went to the kitchen was my father sitting at the dining table, his face grim. There was a piece of paper in his hand and my mind immediately went to the worst. My heart started beating really hard in this weird panicky way and I almost thought I was going to pass out.

“Dad? What’s wrong?”

My father’s pale face was looking even paler. He looked up at me with bloodshot eyes, and unsurprisingly, there was resentment on his face. I stepped back a little, involuntarily. 

“Dad?” I asked again.

“This is all your fucking fault,” he said with venom in his voice.

I swallowed. Then took all the courage I possessed and walked towards him. 

“What happened?” I asked, trying to curb my annoyance. It was clear that it was something serious. And he didn’t want to say anything. Just put the blame on me.

“The house. We have 26 days. Or they’ll take it away. There. Read,” Dad said, then he threw the paper at me.

I sunk into the dining chair opposite him and picked the bill. I looked up after a few seconds and felt the weight of all the frustrations we had gone through layer on me.

“What are we going to do?”

“What are we going to do? I told you, Reine. I fucking told you not to go to college for now so we could pay the loan. And you refused. Now look. Where the hell are we going to start from?”

He was screaming, and I couldn’t help the tear that ran down my cheek. “Dad…”

“You’re so fucking stubborn. Just like your mother. And the business will follow. I know this was what you wanted all along.” He was sounding more and more manic, and it was making me very angry and very sad.

“None of this is my fault,” I said quietly. “I’m not the one who gambled most of our fortune and profit away.”

I chanced a look up at my dad and regretted my words instantly. “Dad…”

“After all I’ve done for you, you dare say that to me? You fucking dumb bitch. You’re going to fix this. I don’t care how you fix it. But you’re going to fix it. And you’re going to make sure that everything is paid off before the twenty six days are up.”

I watched my father storm out of the kitchen then I slumped into my chair. Where was my knight in shining armor? The one who was supposed to save me, and stop all of this from happening?

I bent my head on the table and I couldn’t stop the sobs that racked my entire frame. This is what I had feared. Wilson & Son was our only collateral apart from the house so it was clear that if I didn’t clear a huge chunk of the debt, that was the next thing that the bank was going to target.

There was only one thing I could do at this point. I could either sit here and mope around until the twenty six days were up and have my childhood home, with all the memories (even though most of them were morose) torn away from me. Or I could make a way for myself.

I was a fighter. I had never let my father’s words get to me that hard. I had never lost hope that he would one day treat me like he loved me. So I was not going to lose hope now. I was going to do everything in my power to get the house back, to clear the debt. And I was never going to stop trying to get my father to love me, in spite of how resistant he was to the idea. He would end up giving in, whether he liked it or not.

Now I had to call up the only person who had stuck with me throughout the years, my best friend, Sandra. She was in Seattle and I knew she would help me out in the blink of an eye, so long as I asked and so long as whatever I was asking was in her power to fulfill.

So I went to my bedroom and picked up my phone and dialed her number, twiddling my thumbs as I waited for her to respond. She picked on the third ring and I smiled as I heard her cheerful voice. She was the one person on earth that could make laugh randomly.

“Hi babes,” she said.

“Hi there, love,” I responded, then bit my lip. We spoke a little, caught up on whatever had been going on in our lives for the past month.

Then I went straight to the root of the matter.

“I need to come to Seattle. Can I stay with you for a bit? I won’t be a bother I promise,” I asked, biting my lip.

“Why are you even asking?” Sandra asked, “of course you can. But you’re leaving Youngstown? You of all people? When are you going to be here?”

“I’ll explain everything when I get there, which should be in about a week. Okay?”

“Okay.”

After a few more platitudes, she hung up and I was left staring into space. And praying. Oh I needed this work, how I needed this to work.