II

The first month of summer took dull to a whole new level. If I was in LA, I could have spent most of my time with my few close friends, or I could have at least gotten up to some independent adventures. Las Vegas isn't the most kid-friendly city, and it's not like I had permission to go anywhere or do anything exciting. Occasionally, I was a tag-along at the crime lab, but even then I was confined to my dad's office, which isn't anyone's idea of fun.

On one of the muggiest late afternoons of the year, I was stuck at the apartment, again, and I was going to be stuck there until late that night, or maybe even later than that. I'm pretty sure my father worked doubles just to avoid me. He always apologized, explaining the importance of his work over his daughter's sanity and well-being like it was totally normal, and I always just shrugged it off. I never wanted to give him the satisfaction that I liked him enough to actually open up about my feelings and emotions. He must have thought that he had a robot for a daughter, which makes me think that I might have caused more of the angst in the relationships with my parents than I would like.

Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was just more of the same; dwelling on the neglect my dad provided, but I was desperate to get out of the apartment for the afternoon. I decided to go for a wander, which I always did at my mom's house during the summer. I threw a loose tank top and some of those classic high school era shorts, and headed out. There was no need or want to call and ask permission; I was going to be declined the privilege to explore, and it's not like he would have the time to pick up anyway.

Not totally sure of where I was going, as my sense of direction has always been a little off, I just headed where I felt was right at that moment, and I hoped it took me somewhere fun. I danced along the sidewalks, hoping I would find something of interest. There was no plan, and there was no desire to return home at a certain time; I didn't care as much as I thought my dad didn't.

Eventually, the sidewalks were covered with people, and I was totally unsure of where I was. I remember seeing what felt like hundreds of giant buildings, and thousands of people to match. Trying to push my instinctual panic at the disorientation away, I continued on my adventure. My lack of plan or just knowledge in general was actually pretty exhilarating; never had I had the freedom to just go where the wind blew me.

Looking back, it was rather stupid of me not to bring anything with me. The sun had diminished significantly, and even though I had no concept of my whereabouts, I knew the temperature was going to start dropping soon. I stopped walking for a moment to contemplate my choices. I could call the lab, admitting my stupidity and need for someone to help me, which I immediately dismissed. Instead, I was just going to turn around. It wouldn't be that hard to remember which ways I turned to get here from home.

I'm really lucky I wasn't abducted or murdered on the spot when I was trying to find my way back home. There was an extreme lack of kids my age walking around, and I must have been looking pretty vulnerable. Vulnerable to the point where a couple of cops began to ask me who I was, and if I was lost. Not wanting to admit defeat, I said I was on my way home, not lost or breaking the rules in the slightest. They asked my name, and I reluctantly told them, and before I knew it, I was in their car on the way to what I thought was home. It turned out it was my dad's version of his home.

He was pacing outside the lab, talking to a couple other cops. He looked distressed, and at first I wondered why. It took me a moment to let it sink it, but he was worried about me. Obviously, he had called, maybe he had even gone home, or sent someone to check on me, and he thought something bad had happened. Initially, I tried to make myself feel guilty and upset for causing such a hassle, but then I realized that I didn't have to do that. I could feel happy. I was allowing myself to feel happy about this. It wasn't just the joy of actually receiving some attention from him for once, but the fact that I had caused such anguish was truly making me feel better about myself. It made me feel capable of doing more than just being a burden, and it almost made me have my own warped sense of a purpose.

"Morgan!" I stepped out of the back of the car and looked at my dad, surprised at the look of relief on his face. I felt good at the distress I had caused, but I didn't know I could actually provide a sense of relief.

"Hi," I mumbled as I pushed my hair away from my face, fiddling with a few strands of it in the process.

"What happened? Are you okay? You scared me, M." I always had such mixed emotions about that nickname. On one hand, I appreciated it; it made me feel loved enough to warrant something as trivial as a shortened version of my name. On the other hand, it bugged me, because it was simply that; a shortened version of my name; it didn't come from some inside joke, or some bonding moment I shared with my father as a child. That would never happen.

"I'm fine. You didn't need to go and call the cops. I just went out for a while," I explained hastily. It honestly was a bit too big of a deal, if my dad knew me at all, he could have found me easily. Even my mother, who was more qualified for the Parent of the Year award, but not by much, could have found me easily if I had disappeared. I was always just meandering, investigating the neighbourhoods.

"You could have gotten yourself killed, Morgan. Don't pretend like this isn't a big deal. Why would you do something so stupid?" my dad asked, more and more tension rising in his voice.

"It's not like you would have cared! I'm surprised you noticed I was gone at all! You leave me for a whole day all by myself, and then expect me to just stay put every day? I'm sick of it, okay?" I yelled. I found my hair resting on my face again and ran my fingers through it quickly.

"I knew you were going to be an issue this summer from the second you arrived in my office. I didn't want to have to deal with teenage angst all summer, and now look what's happened. Why do you think you're getting shuffled around so much right now, Morgan? You're causing a headache for everyone." I felt the tears spring to the back of my eyes, but I kept blinking, as subtly as I could.

"Why don't you just send me back to mom's house, then? You obviously don't want me around, so why should I even be here?" I said shakily, trying my best to keep my composure.

"Maybe that's for the best."

Two days later, I found myself on a plane ride back to LA. I had barely seen my father over the last few days; Catherine had driven me home after the fight, and he had only come home once to arrange my way back to my preferred place of residence. It was so childish of him; merely sending his unwanted child back, but I wasn't going to fight it. On the way back to his apartment after the fight, I had cried to Catherine, internally crossing my fingers and toes that she wouldn't tell him about it. She seemed understanding enough, and she said some of the things that I really wanted to hear. It wasn't the same as being able to cry to a real parent, but I barely even know what that's like now.

On the plane ride back, I vowed to myself that I would never go back to Las Vegas to see my father. That miserable trip confirmed the fact that he was never going to be a good parent, and that I should give up any ounce of hope I had left. Surely, he would disagree, and for a brief moment of trying to make amends, he would invite me back. Or maybe, I just wanted that to happen, and he would actually just write me off as well. I didn't know which option I wanted more.