Chapter Two:

Here I am, once again.

Kelly Clarkson: Behind These Hazel Eyes

"Wake up, Ally!" I hear my father's voice before I can even open my eyes. Once I do open them, the first thing I see is him standing by the edge of my bed, smiling brightly. "Time to get up." He says, overly cheerful. He was quite the epitome of being a morning person. I, on the other hand, was far from it.

"But," I turn to face the clock on my night stand. "It's only five-thirty AM! On a Saturday!" I exclaim, throwing my arms in the air as I sit up.

"I know." My father chuckles, as if it's the simplest and most obvious thing in the world, which to him, I suppose it is. He typically woke up this early for work. I usually didn't wake up for another hour and even then I wouldn't actually get out of my bed for an hour after that, unless I had early practice on the weekend, which I didn't today because track season didn't start until the spring. "Now, come on. You have to help me at the store today."

I groan, shoving my face into my pillow. "Why can't Matt help you?" He was the only other employee my father bothered to hire to work at his music store. Matt, unlike me, was fortunate enough to get paid. (Unless you count cold chicken fingers and French fries as a paycheck, because I certainly don't.)

"Because, it's his day off. And, he's taking the rest of the week off to visit his grandmother in Alabama. She's fallen sick and he needs to help her. I told you last night."

"Meaning I have to work at the store for the rest of the week." I state, finishing for him and letting out another groan, rubbing my hand down my face.

"Oh, come on. It's not that bad." Dad laughs, finding humor in my pain, as he sits down at the edge of my bed.

"In case you've forgotten I am kind of in my senior year of high school and I kind of have a social life that I would like to maintain." I say, my words coated with sarcasm.

"It's only October sweetheart."

"And your point is?"

"It's just one week. You'll have plenty of time to have a social life later on."

I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.

My father rolls his eyes at my theatrics. "Now get up. I have to open the store at seven, and before that you have to help me with the inventory. Breakfast is almost ready. I'll see you downstairs in ten minutes." He pats my knee before he stands up, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

"Love you too Dad!" I call sardonically to the closed door. Muttering about my woes to myself, I reluctantly crawl out of the comfort and warmth of my bed and trudge to my closet to get ready.

I'm not a lazy person, I just hate being woken up before my body is ready for the day. That, and working at my father's music store on my free days definitely wasn't my cup of tea. Any normal teenager would prefer hanging out with friends over working.

I glance out my window as I pass it, stopping when I notice a moving truck across the street. It's parked right outside of the Dellemos' old house. They didn't have the nicest reputation on the block, their children and vicious dog always running around out of control and wreaking havoc on the neighborhood. The Dellemos would always steal items from people's front lawn. However, no one ever bothered trying to get it back; they didn't want to deal with the matriarch. Mrs. Dellemo was quite a character. She was barely ever home, constantly leaving for days on end with strange men and when she was back, she stayed inside drinking alcohol all day (from what I had heard). Mr. Dellemo was out of the picture, since the family had first moved into Oak Street ten years ago. A few months ago they had finally moved from the house. No one knew where they went. One day, they were just gone, but no one complained about that.

Hopefully the new occupants of the house would be much more pleasant and well-behaved, if they had any younger children. I crane my neck out of the window to catch a glimpse at the new family, but the truck obstructed my view. Maybe I'll get a better look later on. I continue on my way to my closet.

After putting on my signature gray sweatpants and white t-shirt, I quickly brush my hair and tie it in a messy bun. If I'm being dragged out of my bed at five-thirty in the morning to work with my father, I'm going to do it on my terms – starting with what I wear. I walk to the bathroom adjoined to my room and wash my face in the sink. I glance up at the mirror, staring at the cold, tired face looking back at me. I really should invest in some good moisturizer and skincare products. If only Trish hadn't gotten fired from her job at the mall spa, I could've gotten a nice facial and massage with a discount.

Shaking my head, I look back down at the sink. I dry my hands with the small towel hanging on the rack on the wall. Turning around, I leave the bathroom and then my room. I slowly walk down the stairs, arriving at the foyer. Glancing at the front door, which I will be heading out of in about a half hour, I make a right and enter the kitchen. I lazily plop myself down on one of the wooden chairs around the small kitchen table. My father's back is turned to me, as he manages the stove.

Yawning, I stand up and head to the fridge. I take out the carton of milk and set it on the counter next to the fridge, before getting a mug from one of the cabinets. I grab the coffee pot and fill the mug halfway with the dark liquid. Taking the carton and the cup, I return to my seat. I fill the remaining half of the cup with milk, closing the carton. I take a sip, sighing contently.

Coffee was my best friend. No, scratch that. It was my life. It was the only reason I made it through every morning. If I didn't have my daily cup of coffee, I would be in a bad mood all day and snap at everyone and anyone. I couldn't become my sweet, usual self in the morning without at least three cups. Simply put, I needed coffee. Not just for my benefit, but also for the people who interact with me throughout the day.

"Morning." Dad says grin as he places a plate of eggs in front of me. The plate is complete with a ketchup smiley face. I look up at him to see him still sporting that cheerful grin.

"Morning." I reply blandly, placing my mug down and starting to eat.

"I hope that's not what you're planning to wear to the store." He motions to my very casual attire with his head.

I roll my eyes in response, continuing to eat. I guess not anymore.

"You know, you're such a ray of sunshine in the morning." He teases, sitting across from me with his own plate of eggs and a steaming cup of coffee of his own in his other hand.

"Yeah, well I guess that's one gene that I got from Mom." I say coldly.

Dad tenses from across the table at the mention of her. The divorce was still a tender topic for him to discuss. After all, no one likes seeing their marriage fall apart.

"Sorry Dad." I mumble, looking down at my half-finished eggs. The topic is still rough for me to discuss, too. No ten-year old likes seeing their mother head off to Africa just weeks before she sent the paperwork divorcing their father. Especially not when you're a young girl and you need a mother figure to help you through the important changes coming in your life. To console you when you get your heart broken, comfort you during a fight with your best friend, and help you in the transition from childhood to womanhood.

(Going shopping for a bra with your father is definitely not an experience I would wish upon even my worst enemy. Fortunately for me, my best friend Trish's mother offered to step in after the first time. I will forever be thankful to her for that.)

"It's fine." Dad smiles thinly, sipping his coffee. He looks at me gravely across the table, before beginning to speak. "Your mother …. She actually called last night… with some big news." He says hesitantly.

"Oh, what? Did one of the gorillas she's studying eat a banana? Shocker." I ooze sarcasm, rolling my eyes and picking at my eggs with my fork.

My father gives me a pointed look. "No, Allison." I look down, the tips of my ears flushing red. I hated when he called me by my full name. It's a reprimand in and of itself. "You know your mother's work is much more complex than that."

"Sorry." I mutter, feeling justly chastised, but the both of us are well aware that the apology is anything but sincere.

"She says she's coming back to Florida... She wants to meet with you."

My mother called once in a while to check up on us. Well more specifically me, her only daughter (who, may I mention, she chose to abandon and study gorillas in Africa over). However, I refused to answer the phone when I was home alone or to speak with her when she was on the phone with my father. Whenever Dad attempted to give me the phone, I would always make up an excuse about not feeling well, having homework to do, or heading out of the house. However, both he and I knew that I was lying and that I just didn't want to speak with her.

That didn't stop him from trying to get us to talk. I would let up very rarely and just exchange a few pleasantries, before handing the phone back to my father.

My mother had made her feelings towards me very clear the day she walked out of the door without a second glance, suitcase in hand. And I had made my own decision over my feelings towards her now, too. She had made her choice then, and now I had made mine.

I almost scoff, hearing her request. "Well, tell her no thanks." I stand up, plate and mug in hand. I place my plate in the sink and pour myself another cup of coffee.

"Sweetheart," my father says, standing up from his chair and walking over me. He places a hand on my shoulder. "Come on. It's just one meeting. You can go to the café downtown or anywhere you choose …. She just really wants to see you."

"Well, I don't want to see her." I reply coolly, taking a sip from my mug.

"You and I both know that's not true." He gives me a pointed look.

"Yes it is. She didn't want to see me when she left, so now I don't want to see her."

"It's been eight years Ally." He sighs. "She really wants to make up for it. Give her a second chance. Please."

"She can't just step back in my life after being gone for eight years. One meeting isn't going to change or make up for any of that."

"This could be a chance to start over."

"No. There's no starting over. She chose to leave. Now she can deal with the consequences of that decision." I shrug him off, turn my back to him, and continue to drink my coffee. "Honestly, I don't see why you even continue to talk to her. After what she did."

My mother had filed for divorce in another country. She sent the papers through the mail. I had been the one to find them, one day after coming home from school. Back then, I thought that her departure was only temporary, and that she would be back shortly. After opening the manila envelope and reading the papers, I had realized that I had been very wrong. She stated the reason as "irreconcilable differences".

Dad had tried to talk things out with her, to convince her that they were only experiencing a simple lover's quarrel. He promised to try to work things out. However, Mom had been adamant about her decision. She said there was nothing to discuss or work on. After months of failed attempts to make peace, my father had finally realized that the marriage was hopeless. How could they work things out if she was in another country?

Dad sighs. "Because …I still love her. Divorce papers don't necessarily mean that the love in a marriage disappears."

"Well, apparently, to Mom it does, or else she wouldn't be on another continent right now." I fold my arms across my chest as I turn to face him. "She could've at least tried to make things work. She didn't have to run away the second you guys disagreed about the store. She was a coward and now she's just a coward begging for forgiveness."

"Don't say that Ally. She had her reasons."

"Why are you defending her Dad?! She left us. That's inexcusable."

"She's your mother."

"Yeah and I'm her daughter. So? That doesn't mean anything."

He sighs again. "Yes it does. Your mother and I still love each other, and she definitely still loves you."

"I find that hard to believe." I scoff. You don't leave someone that you love. Especially not if they're your own flesh and blood. If she really loved me, she would've stayed in Miami and at least tried to reconcile her differences with my father. If not for her sake, then for mine.

Clearly, I wasn't important to her.

"Just give her a second chance. Doesn't everybody deserve one?"

"Not everyone." I state bitterly. "Especially not her."

My father lets out another exasperated sigh. "Please honey. If not for her, then at least for you. You need to see her." He rests his hand on my shoulder, giving me a look.

"No Dad." I shake my head with resolution. "I already said no. That's my answer. No. You can call her back and tell her that I kindly decline her offer. I don't want to see her. I don't need her."

I hear him sigh wearily as I leave the room.

Part of me feels guilty for taking out my anger on him, but I choose to go to my room instead of returning and apologizing. This wasn't the first time we were at each others' throats concerning the issue of my mother, after all. It was actually a weekly occurrence. The two of us always bumped heads over the topic of her. Dad would usually come and talk to me about not speaking with her on the phone, once he hung up. I would pretend to be preoccupied with homework or sleeping. I didn't want to hear it; I didn't need to hear it. The lies. Her saying that she missed me and that she was sorry. I knew she really wasn't.

If I wasn't worth her time to stay in America, then she wasn't worth five minutes of my time for a phone call out of pity.

Anger seeped through my veins as I opened the doors to my closet and searched for something to wear to the store, since my desired outfit wasn't going to cut it with my father.

Who did my mother think she was? Coming into my life after flying off to a country on the complete other side of the world for eight years? What did she think? That we would be able to make up for lost time? And have the mother-daughter bond that almost every teenage girl around me has? Just because she was finally coming back? Just because she wanted to? If she really thought that was going to happen, then she definitely had something else coming. If she thought for the slightest second that I would even bother to look at her on the street if I ever saw her, she was dead wrong.

What about me? What about the betrayal and heart break I felt when I saw her walk out the door, suitcase in hand, and step into a taxi parked outside of the house, without a second glance behind her? What about the moments when I needed a mother? What about the nights after I found out about the divorce, that I spent crying myself to sleep? What about Dad? He was more upset than I was, at seeing the love of his life walk out of the door. She didn't even try to work things out. My father was left alone to care for a ten year old daughter, while also running a new business. My mother didn't even care about the pain she caused by leaving us, she only cared about making herself happy, no matter if it cost her daughter and her husband.

But, she wasn't worth my worry or my time. Not anymore. I had spent years crying over her, but I was done. I could care less for her now, since apparently she could care less for me too. Shaking her out of my thoughts, I go on to look through my closet.

Choosing a pair of black jeans, an Aztec-print shirt, and black wedges, I grab my phone off my desk and shut the door to my room once I finish changing. I walk down the stairs and turn left to the living room, where my father is already waiting on the couch.

"Are you ready to go honey?" He asks as he stands up, the morning's tension seeming to have faded. Our miniature arguments typically ended like that, with the two of us forgetting about them within five minutes and everything returning to normal.

"Uh … yeah." I shoot him a half-hearted smile, playing with my phone in my hands.

He stands up and the two of us walk to the door in silence.

"I'm sorry for ruining your social life by making you come and work with me at the store." Dad says as he grabs the keys to the car on the table by the door.

I feel a pang of guilt in my heart at his words. He had been trying so hard the past eight years, playing both the role Dad and Mom to me. I really wasn't making it easier for him, especially not with comments like those.

"Don't worry Dad. You're not. I just had plans with Trish to go to the movies later. I can reschedule. It's okay." I shrug my shoulders, sending him a smile. It wasn't that big of a deal, he was right. I could survive one week of working at the store. It's not like I had anything that interesting planned for the week.

"Thank you for saying that honey." He says. "Really."

He twists the door handle and steps outside, waiting for me. I step out onto the stoned path that leads to the driveway. My father places an arm around my shoulder and I can't help but crack a smile as we walk to the car. He does too.

I frown as I glance at my phone during my lunch break. Still no reply from Dallas. He was my current point of interest, if you would even call it that. I stopped referring to the guys I dated as my boyfriends a while ago, I think sometime after Nick or Mark.

My romance with Dallas came in the beginning of senior year. He wasn't new, but I hadn't really spoken to him before. That was until we got assigned to be partners in AP Biology. He had brown hair that flipped just the right way, kind brown eyes, and a smile that could melt your heart. He was very sweet too.

He asked me out on a date about a week ago, but we hadn't been able to schedule anything yet.

I had texted him "Hello" earlier that morning. We had been discussing plans to hang out tonight, along with a few other people, but given the fact that I had to work at the store, I couldn't. I was hoping that he would answer and I could explain to him the situation, so we could reschedule for next week. Of course I felt guilty, seeing as we hadn't been able to go out at all since he asked me out, but I was certain he would understand. Dallas was very easygoing like that.

However, I wasn't able to worry about my phone for long earlier, an extensive line of customers calling for my attention.

What I did have, now that I had finally found time to check my phone, were twenty texts and fifteen missed calls from Trish, my best friend.

Another phone call was coming in.

I pick up. "Hello?"

"Nice to see that you know how to use your phone. Why haven't you answered my texts or called me back?" The Latina's unhappy voice sounds from the other line.

"Sorry." I say, motioning for a customer to move up in line. I hold my phone to my ear with my shoulder as I ring the elderly woman up. "Thank you. Have a nice day." I smile at her as she takes her bag and leaves.

"Uh … you're welcome?" Trish says in my ear, sounding confused.

"No, not you." I grab the phone in my hand again. "I was talking to a customer. I have to work at the store today, and after school for the rest of the week."

"But what about going to the movies today? Did you forget? I'm the one who usually forgets stuff and I actually remembered."

"No Trish, I didn't forget. But, I'm sorry. I can't make it. My dad already has his hands tied at the store and he really needs my help."

"What about that guy who usually works there?"

"Matt? He's going to be gone for a few days. He has to visit his grandma up in Alabama. Hey, that rhymed." I laugh.

"Well, do you at least know how long he's going to be gone for?" She asks.

"Nope. Sorry." I shrug, before realizing that she can't see me.

"Well, that really puts a damper on things."

"I know, and I'm sorry."

"Thanks a lot. What am I supposed to do now?"

"You can always hang out with Dez." I offer. He's my other best friend.

"Me? Alone with Dez? I'll strangle him within the first five minutes, you know that."

"Then why don't you come down to Sonic Boom and help your best friend unload boxes?" I offer whole-heartedly. "It is my lunch break and I have about thirty minutes to kill. I'd love to have someone to talk to."

"I think I'll have to pass."

"Gee, thanks." I roll my eyes, walking away from the counter and to a nearby shelf of violins, beginning to put them in size order. Some customer messed them earlier that morning, when looking for one, and I hate seeing them disarranged.

"What about Dallas? Didn't you guys have plans to go out to dinner on Friday night?"

"Oh my God, yes! I completely forgot!" I exclaim, face-palming myself. I had remembered our tentative plans, but had forgotten about our actual date on Friday. It was supposed to be our first official date. "Hey, do you know where he could be by chance? He hasn't texted me at all today."

"Oh, the shame. It's eleven o'clock and he hasn't texted you back! The horror! Give me a break Ally. At least you actually have a boyfriend." Trish says, oozing sarcasm.

"He's not my boyfriend." I correct.

"Well, he might be soon." She replies.

"You know, you might have one yourself if you weren't so irritable." I point out, leaning against the shelf.

"I am not irritable. People just get on my nerves. A lot. Besides, I've had enough romances through you."

"Thanks." I reply blandly. "I'm just worried about us, me and Dallas I mean. You know how unlucky I am in relationships. I have really high hopes for this one."

"Ah, yes. The Unlucky Thirteen. You know, you should really write a book about that."

"Very funny." I roll my eyes.

"I can see the it now. The Unlucky Thirteen: My Dating Disasters."

I choose not to reply, biting my tongue instead. "It's just that this is my first possible relationship since Tom. It's been almost six months since I've gone out on a date." Having finished reordering the boxes, I go back to the cash register.

I was only feeling worried because my texts had been ignored before. Actually, that's probably how I discovered most of my exes cheating. They hadn't been replying to me texts. I went looking for them, only to find them locking lips with someone else. I couldn't tell that to Trish though, because she would just call me paranoid and tell me not to worry about it.

Dallas was different than the other guys. We weren't even together officially, and he already treated me with more compassion and kindness than Noah and Ethan and Hans, to name a few guys who I had dated for a couple of months.

Still, I could never let my guard fully down, which was why I was growing concerned.

"I wouldn't worry about it Ally. And if things turn out bad, I'm pretty sure you've already dealt with every other scenario in the book. You'll be over it in a few days, a week tops."

"Gee, how reassuring."

"Oh, you know what I mean."

"Unfortunately, I do." The two of us laugh at the comment.

"Well, this sucks." I can envision her pouting, as I hear her sit down on her bed.

"Oh, guess who called last night." I say, remembering breakfast.

"Who?"

"My mother."

"So? Doesn't she call like once a week?"

"Yeah, but last night was different. My dad says that she's coming back to Miami and she wants to meet with me. How lovely, right?" I state with sarcasm, rolling my eyes. "Dad really wants me to meet with her. Can you believe it?"

The line remains silent.

"Trish? Hello? Are you still there?" I ask.

"I'm going to have to go with your father on this one, Ally. You should meet with her. I mean, it has been eight years and you basically haven't said a single word to her. And, it's not like she didn't try to communicate with you. She did, you just pushed her away."

"I can't believe it. You're agreeing with him! After everything she did to us?" I exclaim, my voice growing louder. I glance around the store to see a few customers looking my way. My cheeks flush red and I look back down at the cash register. "Why should I forgive her?" I ask, making sure to lower my voice and not bring anymore unwanted attention upon myself.

"I'm sorry Ally, but I think you should do it. You guys can just put everything out on the table. I'm not saying you have to forgive her for leaving, but you should at least hear what she has to say about it."

I see my father exit his office in the corner of my eyes. He motions for me to come over to him.

I sigh. "Whatever. Looks like I have to go back to work Trish. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Alright. But don't be mad at me. Just look at things the way your dad and I see them."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Bye." I roll my eyes.

"Bye." She hangs up.

I put my phone in my pocket and walk over to my father. "Do you want me to finish unpacking the boxes?" I ask him.

"Uh … no. I think I can handle it from here. Why don't you take the rest of the day off?"

"It's only eleven. The day's not even halfway over."

"I know. But I don't want to keep you in here when you can be out with Trish, or with that boy you mentioned last week."

"Is this about what I said this morning? Dad, I promise, you're not ruining my social life by making me work here. I actually don't mind it that much. It's not too bad."

"Don't worry sweetheart, I'll be okay."

"But what about for the rest of the day? You can barely handle things with just Matt."

"Do you not want to leave?" Dad laughs.

"No… I mean, of course I appreciate it, but I can't go knowing you're going to have your hands full and-."

"I'll be fine sweetheart. Just go."

I throw my arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Be back here by eight!" Dad calls, but I'm walking through the doors, my phone already dialing.

"Trish, you won't believe it!"

Thank you for the encouraging reviews. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.