The Secret of Ella and Micha Chapter 17

Micha I called my father from the street and got his location. He attempted to converse with me a tad, however I hung up on him. Standing up to him for bailing isn't something I will do via telephone. He lives around two hours away, which annoys me. Two hours away and he hasn't halted by once. At the point when I pull up to his home, my hands about gag the life out of the controlling wheel. He lives in a two-story white-block chateau. The area is decent with monstrous houses and individuals strolling their canines along the walkway. There's no medication dealings going on, no battles, no junky vehicles left in the front yard. I sit in my vehicle gazing at the red entryway with a major â€Å"Welcome† sign holding tight it. There are blossoms around the front of the yard and the grass is green and cut. Is this why he left us? Since he needed a fancier life. Why the fuck would he be able to do that with us? My telephone blares in my pocket and I turn it off. It's Ella and I can't converse with her at this moment. The front entryway opens and a man in his forties strides out onto the yard. His hair is a similar shade of blonde as mine, yet more slender. He's wearing a dark suit and resembles an egotistical prick. He gathers up the paper from the beginning squints at my vehicle as he runs off the yard. I include to five in my mind, power my hands from the controlling wheel, and escape the vehicle. He remembers me promptly and his face channels of shading. â€Å"Micha?† He tucks the paper under his arm. â€Å"Is that you?† I take another full breath and stroll over the front grass. â€Å"I don't have a clue why I'm here.† â€Å"Why don't you come inside so we can talk?† he recommends. I tail him into the house that is considerably more pleasant within; hardwood floors, a monstrous crystal fixture, and newly painted dividers with family pictures on them. â€Å"You have a family?† He hurls the paper onto a table and movements for me to take a load off in the parlor. â€Å"Yeah, a little girl that is twelve and a child that is eight.† Feeling unbalanced, I plunk down in a seat that is finished with frilly pads. He situates himself opposite me, appearing as though he has no clue about what to do or say straightaway. â€Å"So how have you been?† â€Å"Super.† There's an enormous representation on the divider taken in a congregation of him and his better half on their big day and I gaze at it, crunching the numbers. â€Å"How long have you been remarried?† He squirms awkwardly as he reclines in the seat and stations his foot onto his knee. â€Å"Micha, look I'd preferably not get into this.† â€Å"What did you do? Like abandon us and wed the main individual you came across?† Anger consumes in my voice. He turns away toward the window and I get it. â€Å"You were seeing her while you were still with mother, weren't you?† He looks at me once more, with eyes precisely like mine. â€Å"Look Micha, there were things going on between your mom and I that you don't understand†¦ I wasn't happy.† â€Å"There were things going on between you and me, too,† I snap. â€Å"So what's your reason for that one?† He wipes a hand over his face and lets out a depleted murmur. â€Å"I'm sorry.† I grip my hands into clench hands, warding the desire to hop off the lounge chair and choke him. â€Å"You're grieved? Extraordinary answer, asshole.† He grabs a manila organizer out of the cabinet of the end table and pummels it down on the end table between us. â€Å"Your granddad left you some cash in his will.† My eyes streak from the envelope to my dad. â€Å"Is that why you brought me here?† He opens the envelope and takes a little heap of papers out. â€Å"I thought possibly you could utilize it to attend a university or something. That would be pleasant, wouldn't it?† Shaking my head, I get to my feet. â€Å"I'm not setting off for college and you'd get that on the off chance that you knew me past the time of six.† He slides the papers over the table and sets a pen close to them. â€Å"Please simply take the cash, Micha. I need to realize that you're dealt with else it'll frequent me.† I stop. â€Å"Are you anticipating regularly observing me again?† His quietness offers me the main response I need. â€Å"I don't need your God damn money.† I toss the papers at him and tempest for the front entryway. â€Å"Give it to one of your genuine kids.† He doesn't shout toward me when I step out the entryway and he doesn't pursue me down. I walk straight for my vehicle, getting progressively irate with each progression, and I hammer my clench hand into the driver's side window. It doesn't break, yet a few my knuckles pop. â€Å"Fuck!† I yell, gripping my hand and the old woman over the road, who's working in her nursery, runs inside her chateau. I hop in my vehicle and hurry off not far off with no thought where the hellfire I'm going.