CHAPTER SONG, Dancing With The Ghost - Sasha Alex Sloan

I made my decision on seeing my dad. It took a lot of late-night sessions, and two pro and con lists. The first, I ripped up, and redid just to make sure I'm making the right decision. Honestly, I'm still not sure if I'm making the right decision, but I'm here. I'm outside and it's too late to back out. Sort of. If I wanted to, really wanted too, I could turn and run away. I'm almost ten lollipops sure that the guy holding my hand would run with me. The guy holding my hand, he was the only reason I'm able to do this actually. If not for him, I don't think I would have the strength to walk into the diner. Or stand in front of it for that matter.

My con's list consists of a lot of reasons why this is a bad idea. For explain, my mom not knowing, and the emotional damage this could leave. Then again, my pro list was longer. Mainly, I just had so many questions, and I needed the answers. I was willing to deal with the pain as long as I got those answers because I don't know if I can live another day without them. I don't know if I can go through another sleepless night without knowing why he walked out. Why he left me.

Lord? One of your creations down here, again. Asking for help, again. Not sure if your listening, again, but this is a just in case you are.

"Love, whenever you're ready."

I'm not ready.

Nor will I ever be, I realized. And yet, I start walking anyways. Tugging the man next to me with every step I take. The closer I get to the door, the more panicked I started to feel. The more this little bubble of anxiety in my chest is starting to squeeze. All of my breaths are coming in labored, and heavy. And each step feeling like I'm dragging bricks behind me. I'm three steps from really believing I'm going to lose my mind.

I'm not ready.

It's established.

But before I can back out, the door opens, and Mateo grab's it, holding it for me. Despite my better judgement, I step though like the fool I am. Even knowing I'm to close to a panic attack and need a second, I move forward. Because I don't want to announce it. I don't want to be an inconvenience, or a nuisance. I already asked Mateo to come here, sure he practically told me he would come with me, but it didn't mean he should have to deal with my emotions too.

I'm walking, and yet I feel like I'm barely here. I only feel the sluggishness in my body. The pulling energy that feels like it's trying to drag me to the ground, and stomp on me. It's trying to bury me somewhere under the dirt, and honestly, I want it too. Because I don't want to be here. I don't want to face him. I don't want any of this. I'm making a mistake.

I glanced behind me. I can run. I can run. I can run. "Do you have a reservation or just need a table?" I hear someone say, and my head shot up to the waiter look at me. I can't run.

I open my mouth to tell her we have a reservation, but nothing come out. Nothing but a gasp for air. Which makes the waiter raised her brow at me in confusion, probably thinking I'm crazy or something. Oh, how Maddox would enjoy that joke. But it's not so funny because my white turtleneck feels like a noose around my neck, and my soft green cardigan feels like it is squeezing my whole body together. My black jeans are starting to feel stiff, and gross or was it just the air in here? I wanted to rip my clothing, my gold neckless, and just take a breath. I just want to feel free.

Mateo turns to look at me when I don't answer, his brow's knotting in worry and eyes darkening when he sees me. "We need a minute. " he says, and his voice hits my ears. I start feeling him tug me around the corner, but I'm losing it by the second, and I'm barely registering what's happening anymore.

I can't catch my breath. I can't. I can't. I can't.

I'm gasping for it, and I can't reach.

I can't.

My vision is blurring, little back patches are starting to appear.

I can't.

I need air.

I need to breath.

I can't.

Mateo stops us in the isolated corner, and spin's me around to look at him. I see his mouth moving and try to focus on the soft lips that I know taste like everything I wish I could taste right now, instead of this metallic texture brutalizing me. I'm looking at him. At his intoxicating gaze that seems to be digging into me, grasping onto something to hold me in place. To keep me from slipping from his hold, and I'm begging him to hold hard. To find a way. To find me. But I can't say a single word or hear a single thing.

He dips his head, meeting my forehead with his as I'm breathing so hard that it's feels like I'm climbing a mountain. Except I'm not. I'm merely standing in a restaurant, about to meet my dad for the first time in a year. And clearly making a grand mistake, because look at me.

His hand coming up, gripping my cheeks and the pressure clicks something in me and all of a sudden, my hearing fazes in again. "You're okay, amor. You hear me, yeah? I'm right here. Be a good girl and take a big breath for me." he commands, voice full of subtle worry that's being covered by dominance. I do what he tells me, focusing on the hum of his voice. I listen to the strings of its huskiness, and stillness of it. I focus on only him, and his forest eyes, and comforting voice.

I wish I could say it didn't take me long to recover, but it did. And it's only after another long minute did, I realize that I'm fisting his shirt and trying to hide in his chest. Also, I don't remember the last few minutes. Which all makes me anxiety sit like a heavy anchor in my stomach. I tried to swallow again, but it scratches like sandpaper down my throat. Lord? I thought I asked for help, not for this?

"Feel the ground under your feet. Look around, see the walls, and count back from ten. Breath thought it, mi amor."

In the back of my mind, I can hear the tiny voice telling me that my help is standing in front of me, eyeing me like his afraid I might fall apart in his arms. I'm afraid I might. I'm afraid I already did and yet his holding me like his confident he can put me back on my feet. Inhale a soft breath, I lift my head to him. "I'm okay." I tell him, and I know I'm lying to him. His expression tells me he knows too because his eyes are drowning in sympathy and reassurance.

I made the choose, and I have to keep reminding myself of that because otherwise I would run. I wanted it.

Mateo nodded, gently. "Let's take another minute. But if you decide you want to leave, we do. You don't have to go in there if you don't want too. You don't owe him anything."

I dropped my head back into his chest and counted back from ten. I wish I never had to leave his chest. I wish I never had to leave his hold, or the safety and comfort he gives me. I wish I could just hole myself up in his arm's forever and yet I know I can't. But it doesn't stop me from making the wish anyways. I also know I don't owe my dad anything, but I feel like I owe myself something. What exactly that is, I'm not sure. Maybe I'm hoping to get answers today, and I think I owe to myself to try and get them.

Truth is, I'm afraid to see my dad. Less of him, and more of his answers to the question's I have. A little of him too. It's been so long, and so many things have changed. And yet, the burning hole of his abstain hasn't. I'm afraid that seeing him, getting those answers won't actually get rid of the hole, it will deepen it. I wish I could say I'm brave, but I'm not. A part of me knows this, and always reminds me I'm weak. I'm sure it linked back to the night freshman year, but I push back at it. Like always, I hide in the corner.

At some point, I'll have to stop hiding. I know this, and yet I can't find the courage to actually do it. Fear is such a strong emotion that it can steal so much in the blink of an eye. Because of how fearful I am, I know that this is important too. I need to do this. The longer I wait, the more this fear will fester until it's just ruling me completely. I'm not going allow that to happen. I choose to be stronger than the fear. I choose to take a step out of the corner no matter how badly I'll get burned by the sun I have been hiding from forever.

With that decision in mind, I took a step backwards out of Mateo's hold. Instantly wishing I could hole back in there and stay forever. Lifting my chin at him, I nodded. "I'm ready."

He regarded me for a moment before his lips curled in a soft smile. "I'm proud of you, love." he words soft, and reassuring. They warmed my stomach, and lifted that anchor, even if it was by a little. Still, I'm thankful for that little bit because it loosens the noose around my neck enough for me to gasp in a breath of air.

Taking his hand that he held out for me, I walk us back to the counter. The waiter eyed us with confusion, but I square my shoulder and stop in front of her. Even when my words come out weak and trembling, I know they were full of heavy effort. "We have a reservation, under James Vetri."

She nodded, looking through the computer before grabbing two menus and saying, "Follow me."

I glance up at Mateo for a confidence boost, because despite how much I tell myself I got this, without him, I don't believe it. He was already watching me, holding my hand with possessiveness that I know translates to him being here for me. Telling me that if I want to leave, all I have to do is say it. The knowledge lessened the anxiety, even if it's by a tiny winy bit.

Swallowing the growing lump in the back of my throat, I follow behind the waiter as she led us through the restaurant. My hand's trembled as I wonder if his already here. We agreed on a time and date, and here I am. At the date and time, a ball of yarn that's unraveling and there's no stopping it. I felt relief slam into me so hard that I stumbled a little over my feet when we walked up to the table, and I found him not there yet.

I reminded myself to breath, again. So did Mateo. "Breath, love. You got this. Come on, let's sit."

I slid into the booth, and he followed me. Grabbing the menu, I opened it and stare at all the food items. The waiter mentioned that she will be back, but I didn't even notice. I pulled at my finger, trying to release some of this tension in my joints because my skin felt like it was burning up, and the words on the menu were starting to slur. I thought back to my anxiety drills, counting slowly up to ten and then starting over.

Was I doing the right thing? Because it sure as fluff bunnies doesn't feel so.

I only got to six the second time around when Mateo's hand covered mine, fully. He leaned closer, and I found myself melting beside him. Needing him, and his comfortable confidence that I believed in with my whole heart. He flipped our hand, interlocking them and I released a breath that felt so heavy it collapsed my chest. I felt my body slump beside him, shoulder to shoulder as I bent into him for support.

His thumb ran across my first. "Love.." he said, making me tilt my head up at him. Pure emerald, coating in rustic wood, and drowning in deep seas eyes stared back at me. His lip's curled up into a gentle smile. "You look very gorgeous." he whispered, and I flushed, looking down at myself. I don't remember dressing myself. I'm surprised I didn't come in a robe or something. Oh gosh, that would have been bad. I was so caught up in my own mind before coming here, that I hardly remember half the day honestly.

He went on, "How am I supposed to set next you when you're distracting me looking like that. All I'm thinking is about is bring you up on my lap, running my hands down your sides, kissing your soft, sweet lips. All I can smell is your intoxicating smell, suffocating me and your eyes melting me. Have mercy on me, love."

I flushed, for a second forgetting all about the anxiety that sat in my chest. My skin buzzed next to him as I built up some words to reply. Finally, I breath out, "Yeah? You think it's easy sitting next to you, pretty boy?"

He chuckled squeezing my hand. "Tell me about it but I promise you I have it worse. So much worse, love because at least you can hide your urges, mine are painfully pressing into my jeans."

My smile built up on my face, and as I was about to reply when we were interrupted. "Lina?"

My head swirled in the direction of the voice. A voice I haven't hear for in a year and I don't know why I thought it would sound different. It didn't. It sounded like him, like he always did. A mixture between orotund and silvery. Somewhere right in the middle, and I never met someone else with that kind of voice. I used to adore his voice, I waited patiently at home for him to come home and tell me all about his day. Now, it just didn't have the same effect, it just sounded the same.

I watched him slid into the booth across from us. And I know I'm gawking over him, but I have the right to. He still looked like he did a year ago, maybe his hair was a little longer, and his face a little more wrinkled but he still looked like the man I spend my morning's hiking with. His honey-colored hair, hanging around his ears, and his beady eyes still a soft brown like I remember. The only difference is that he lost weight. That I can tell; his beer belly was gone and overall, he looked good. Healthy even. And still like my dad.

"Dad." I breath out, heavily like it was my last word I'll ever speak.

We stared at each other for a second, and tears prickled in the back of my eyes, burning to get out as I blinked them away. I wouldn't cry. I told myself I wouldn't. I even said it out-load, in the mirror to be exact. Except now, I feel them back there because here he was. A part of me, a small part I hid from thought I wouldn't ever see him again, and the thought was painful in way's I choose not to think about.

His lip's curled into a long-forgot smile that I almost chocked when I saw again. "Lina, my baby. God, you look so grown."

I swallowed thickly. "Yeah." I muttered, lost for words. All I could do was stare at him. Holy fluff balls, he was really sitting in front of me. A part of me didn't think he would show up, or at least I wouldn't.

The waiter came to a halt by the table. "Oh, your full party is here. Are you ready to order?"

I don't even know what I want. I looked at the menu, sure, but I didn't really look at it. I glanced over at Mateo, hoping he could just order something for me. Even if I'm not sure if I have the stomach to eat at all. He nodded understanding my plea. "Can we get, --" and he rambled off an order for himself, and me. I felt small relief at that, but I took it. In this second, I was thankful for him even more. He knew exactly how to comfort and ease me.

I squeezed his hand, thankful for his support here and he returned it. By the time my dad was done order, and the waiter walked away, I found more words. "How are you?"

My dad wasn't quick to answer. Instead, his questioning eyes bounced between Mateo and me. I flushed, in the mist of everything forgetting to introduce him. Clearing my throat, I sat up straighter feeling like I was slouching a little and looked over at Mateo. "Right. This is Mateo, my boyfriend. Dad—" I looked towards him, "Mateo. Mateo. Dad."

My dad nodded, and Mateo sits with the same vacant, apathetic look that you couldn't read thought or break even if you tried. It was intimidating in every way and made my dad nerves as he pulled at his nails. "Nice to meet you." he said, eyeing Mateo.

Mateo jetted out his sharp chin. "I wish I felt the same, shame."

If I didn't know Mateo better, I would have been shocked at his responses. I would have probably gapped at him, but I'm well aware of his serious, and solid demeanor that he possesses. The coldness he maintains as if his life depended on it. His the opposite of me and saying things like that is easy for him. I envy him for being able to speak his mind, and it won't be something I would be mad at him for. He had the right to feel what he wants, and a tiny voice in the back of my mind told me I had the same right. Only sometimes, it didn't feel like that.

My dad gaze darted me, and his expression told me I should do something, only I don't really know what he wants. To stand up for him? I'm barely standing up for me. A moment passed before he nodded, a little shocked by the comment but moved on. "Right. How are you baby?"

I cringed, pressing closer to Mateo on instinct. I hated that name now. I didn't mind it before, and yet now the enduring name sounded empty. I don't understand how he could still use it after everything. It just sounded like it was from a different point in time, and we are living in the new one that he left me at. Mateo noticed my tension and send my dad a pointed look. "I suggest you don't refer to her with that name anymore."

My dad's brows creased. "Why? I have used it all my life."

"When you were around. Which you are not anymore. You lost that right."

I would thank him, if I had the words because I know that I wouldn't have been able to tell my dad to stop. Instead, I would have let him continue calling me that even if it felt like a jab to the heart every time.

My dad nodded with hesitation, "Okay. Lina, how are you?"

It's funny, that never in my whole life have I studders. I was more of a rambler, and yet when I replied, I found myself stuttering. "Goo-o-d. How ar-re you?"

"I'm okay. Better. It's token a while to get here, but I'm glad we are able to catch up. I'm glad to see you're okay."

I wish I could yell at him, tell him that he might be blind if he thinks I'm okay because I'm so far from it I can't even spell the word anymore. I wish I could yell at him for everything he put me through. For all the damage he had left me with, and all the late night's he stole from me. I wish I could just pour out everything I have in me and yet all I could do was blink at him. Stare at the man that I had so much to say too but lacked words too. Or maybe it was that I didn't think he deserved them. Instead of replying to his terrible conclusion of my life, I asked the one question I have asked since the night he left, "Why?"

His brow's furrowed. "Why?" he repeated, and I hated that in the back of my mind I yelled at him because I wasn't this person. The one festered with anger, that swelled in my chest to the point of pain. I was better than this, and now I'm stooping so low that I hate myself for it. I wasn't this awful, hateful person. Never. I was all the opposite and yet now I feel like something is trying to climb out of me. It's clawing at my throat, and I can't figure out how to let it loose, or how to make it stop. It started in my mind, and slowly grew claw's everything else. My stomach, chest, and now my throat. And it hurts.

Maybe it's finally all of the consequences catching up from how long I have been sitting the corner of avoidance, Maybe I should have tended to this pain earlier, found a way to ease it but I was terrified. Terrified to face the loneliness, and maybe to even find answers to all my questions.