Calla brought her body to the ground at half-speed. When her butt was just above the threshold floor, she slowed even more. The door creaked behind her as she leaned against it for support. Her boots were heavy, and she wanted to make sure they didn’t give her away--which she probably should have thought of before she was partially in the house. Calla tugged off her left boot and hovered it above the ground. The girl lowered her face to the ground, keeping her eyes on the boot as she brought it down to the ground.
“Careful, Calla. Wouldn’t want to hurt the stone floor.” Kol, her father, stepped out from the kitchen and into the hallway. Calla rolled her eyes and dropped the boot onto the floor with a loud thud. After releasing her other foot from the grasp of her shoe, she lifted it above her head and let it slam to the floor. Calla’s mouth turned down in a sarcastic frown, her eyebrows raised, and her half open eyes glimmered with a foggy sense of rebellion.
“Why you so bent on bein this big nobody?” Kol crossed his arms across his body. Why he was here, Calla didn’t know. She never knew what his schedule was like. He’d be here for a season, day after day, but then disappear for another. He used to try to say goodbye and hello as he came and went. Calla made herself busy during those times now.
“You’re one to talk, aintcha?” Calla criss-crossed her legs beneath her. A small grin had snuck onto her face without her knowledge or consent. She was reaching the point where self-awareness would slip away from her.
“Watch yourself, cause I don’t want to for the rest of our lives.”
“Shoooocker.” Calla quickly threw back at him.
“You have to grow up, Calla, is what I’m tellin you.” Kol hadn’t moved. He stood in the dark hallway, illuminated only by the light Calla was letting in by sitting in the threshold. “Get up, girl. Can’t sleep there all night.”
“Can’t I?” Calla flailed her arms out for no particular reason. Her small body slid further into a hunched over position. Kol sighed, and approached. Calla allowed it.
“You sound like your mother.” Her father murmured as he put a sturdy hand under each of her armpits and lifted. She weighed next to nothing compared to the cargo he was used to throwing around. The door shut behind them as he pulled her into the house.
“You must hate that.” Calla retorted as her father hoisted her into his arms. Her gangly legs draped over his arms, and Calla felt like a child once again. Honestly, she probably looked like one too. Her father dwarfed her tiny teenage body.
On the outside, she was standoffish, but secretly she missed the closeness. Kol used to joke that Calla’s mother never got a tick with her after she was born, Kol always had her in his arms. He would sleep with her on his chest, carry her around the house like a little ball. They were inseparable. And then somewhere along the line, Calla grew up and they grew apart.
Kol nudged open the door to Calla’s bedroom with his foot. “One day, you’ll get it.” He sighed as he placed her on her bed. He stood over her, crossing his arms once again. “I’m just hopin I’ll be there when you do.” Calla nodded slowly like she understood, but she didn’t. She was sure it was just one of those stupid sentimental things parents say all the time, something like “they grow up so fast” or “I remember when you were small enough to hold.”
The girl rolled over, swatting indifferently in the direction of her father. “Yeah, yeah.” She couldn’t see Kol, but she heard him sigh. His heavy footsteps moved to the door before pausing there. Calla could feel that he wanted to say something. The words hung heavy in the air, suppressed by the darkness and the silence. After another moment of nothing, Calla nudged him. “What?”
“Nothing. Sleep good.” Kol slowly shut the door. There was silence, again. He stood outside the door for a while, long enough to convince Calla that he had moved and she simply hadn’t heard him. But then there were steps. She heard them retreat down the hall and back down the stairs. Instead of turning to sleep in the living room downstairs, however, the steps kept moving. Quiet from the distance, yet distinct, her father’s footsteps moved to meet the sound of an opening door. The front door. A beat later, the door shut and the house was enveloped in silence once more.
Calla rolled onto her back and began mindlessly pleating the front of her shirt. Where could he be going? A boat, obviously. But she felt a pit in her stomach. Calla couldn't shake the feeling that something was different. Sure, her father worked on ships that left at all times of the day. Yes, he tried to say goodbye every time. But the sore spot in her grew and grew. Perhaps it was just the emptiness devouring her faster than ever before. As Calla slipped into unconsciousness, she hoped that was the case.
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