Sorry I haven't updated in a while, I had a terrible case of writer's block that still hasn't completely remedied itself.
The lyrics are from All At Once by The Fray, my favourite band of all time.
Chapter 5: Unsure
Luka watched as Abby dialled the phone and hung it up. Dialled and hung up. She was unsure, hesitant.
He, too, was unsure. Part of him, the protective part, hated her father for abandoning her, for causing her so much hurt. The other part, the part that was a son and a father, wanted Abby to have a father in her life, something that he had and loved so much. His own father was much different than Abby's, but he figured that Abby would still benefit from having him in her life. Luka himself was a father, and he knew that he would hate not to be apart of his child's life. He couldn't imagine how it would feel to have your own child reject you, but then again, he didn't know how a parent could abandon their child in the first place.
Abby came down from the bedroom, phone in hand.
"Not tonight," she said finally.
Luka wrapped her into an embrace.
"Whenever you're ready," he assured her.
"I keep thinking…I keep thinking of walking down the aisle. Will it be alone? Will my mother walk me? Will you walk me? Every little girl always fantasizes about her wedding and imagines walking down the aisle with her father. I know I'm far from conventional, but…"
"But what?" Luka prompted.
Abby paused. She hesitated, but when she said the words, they were firm and thought out.
"I want my father to give me away."
"Then he will."
Abby stepped out of his embrace and sat at the table.
"Luka, maybe this is one of those times when I shouldn't get my hopes up. Maybe I should just- forget this whole thing. Pretend I never even met the guy," Abby said pessimistically. She knew she had a way of making herself be unhappy. She liked to convince herself that she didn't deserve the best.
"Can you really do that?" Luka asked softly, completely non-judgemental.
Abby ran her fingers through her thick hair. She didn't look Luka in the eye. She knew he was right. He was always right.
"No. But I can't do the other either. Why does this have to be so hard?" Abby whined.
We never know what's wrong without the pain
Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same.
Abby slept fitfully. The bed, usually a haven of soft blankets and lovers' sweet skin was transformed into a jungle of entwining and withholding arms of sheets that were damp with sweat. The pillows were uselessly limp and uncomforting, and every spring pierced into her side until she was convinced she was sleeping on a bed of wrenches, and she had difficulty locating Luka with her wild hands. She slipped in and out of miserable wake and senseless, incomplete dreams. In them were flashes of a veiled bride, of bitter words, of someone crying.
When morning finally arrived, Abby stepped out of bed feeling oddly renewed. She was going to do it.