This Four-Leaf Clover is All But Useless Now

Annabelle had been mainly living with Alex in his apartment since discovering her empty house. After the shock of her mom’s disappearance had settled in, becoming a dull throbbing numbness, the gang convinced Annabelle to file a missing person’s report. Three days after arriving back from the hospital, Alex and Annabelle were sitting in the police station, their hands tightly linked.
“You didn’t have to come with me you know.” Annabelle had said. Alex looked at her incredulously and kissed her silent as the policeman returned to guide them into a different section of the office. The report did not take long. After reading through it the policeman looked up, surprised.
“Are you by any chance related to Russell Heron?”
Annabelle started at her father’s name and nodded warily. “Yeah, he’s my dad.”
“Oh, I’m good mates with him, he is a good guy.”
“Was a good dad, too.”
“What happened?” The policeman asked, grinning slightly as if it were a joke. Alex stared at him, surely being such good friends with him this guy would know Russell was dead.
“He died.” Annabelle said, deadpan. The policeman became perplexed.
“Perhaps we’re talking about different Russell Herons.” He said, “I’m so sorry.”
“Why?”
“I saw the one I know for a game of soccer last night.”
“Oh.”
“Funny…”The policeman said, “You rather look like him as well.”
Annabelle shrugged and Alex squeezed her hand. “Must be a funny coincidence then,” Alex said.

A few days later, Annabelle sat with Alex on the couch watching ‘Pimp my Ride’. The doorbell rang. Alex got up to open the door, Annabelle continued to stare at the TV, assuming Kara had come over for movie night or Jack needed to borrow something. Annabelle noted the formal tone in Alex’s voice and craned to see who it was. She caught a glimpse of the police-blue uniform and muted the TV, getting up to join Alex, wondering if they had found Christine. Alex moved to the side as she reached the doorway, the policeman breaking into a smile as she came into view. He greeted her and then from nowhere a man stepped into view. Annabelle’s breath caught in her throat. A shiver ran through her body and she felt like screaming. Her father. Her father was standing in front of her. A thousand emotions rushed at her, breaking over her like waves, trying to cling to her as the tide pulled them away, only to come rushing back. Tears filled her eyes and she started shaking her head, her whole body shaking, trembling. He watched her, his eyes brimming. Annabelle was frozen to the spot, taking him in. The web her mother had weaved around her for all those years, torn away. Her mother’s spider silk stuck to her very skin, now ripped off, painful.
“What the fuck.” She gasped. Alex rested a hand on her shoulder. Her father watched her. The policeman stood by, awkwardly taking in the scene. Alex reached out his hand to Russell, causing his attention to break away from his daughter.
“I’m Alex by the way, Annabelle’s boyfriend.”
For a fleeting moment, a wave washed up a normal teenage worry, what if her dad disapproved of Alex. It was soon replaced with more potent thoughts. Betrayal. Even embarrassment that she could not see through Christine’s bedazzlement.

“Please, come in.” Alex squeezed her gently, rousing her to move robotically into the apartment. He sat her at the kitchen table. “I’ll make coffee, tea?”
He tried to act normal in the bizarre situation that was unfolding.
“Coffee would be great.” Russell said. The policeman entered the kitchen with Alex, leaving Annabelle’s dad to sit opposite her at the table. She started at him. He cautiously leaned toward her, resting his hand on hers. She pulled it away.
“You’re supposed to be dead.” She said vehemently. Russell’s smile faded. Annabelle shook her head. “You know, I guess I must of romanticised you in my head. You were always this knight in shining armour. My dad. My hero. Fuck knows why. You were a fucking average dad. Didn’t even care enough to take me away from Christine? Where the fuck were you!?”
Russell sighed. “Christine had been cheating on me for years. I wanted to stay together, so you could have two parents, but enough was enough. When I walked in on her in our own house. I could have hit her right then and there." He took a deep breath, "I-I didn’t. I just couldn’t live with that woman any more. I divorced her. She claimed custody of you, turning herself into a victim of some treacherous relationship.”
Annabelle stared at the table.
“Why the fuck did she tell me you were dead?”
“I don’t know Annabelle, perhaps it was easier for her. Not having to explain the divorce, her cheating. I don’t know. That woman is a sociopath. She’s a train-wreck.”
“Why didn’t you try and contact me!?”
Annabelle’s voice was slightly hysterical, but Alex just watched the conversation, not wanting to intervene. The conversation needed to happen. He could not fathom her mother lying to her for so long. Could not fathom the kind of family environment Annabelle had lived in for the past eleven years.
“I did!” Russell defended, “I called, I sent letters. Eventually I think Christine began to believe her own lie, she threatened to file a restraining order against me. I thought that moving on would be better for all of us. That was probably a selfish decision.” He paused, “I’m so sorry, Annabelle.”

Alex took this moment to place coffee in front of Russell, and a tea in front of Annabelle, knowing she preferred it. She closed her eyes, calming herself down and thanked Alex.
“Do you want us to leave the room?” He asked, eyes big and beautiful. Annabelle shook her head, resting her hand on his muscled forearm. His presence calmed her.
“Stay.”
Russell looked down at the coffee and sipped at it, thanking Alex as well. He wondered whether he should attempt any fatherly normalcy and question the relationship or Annabelle. He decided against it for the time being. Although he was curious, Annabelle was still fuming and it was too soon to resume their father-daughter relationship. He tried to imagine what Annabelle was feeling, how he had appeared out of the blue like a ghost. Annabelle kept a hand on Alex’s forearm; it steadied her as she watched her father. He had aged a lot from the image of him in her memory, grown a moustache, hair fading. She thought about death, how he was just deteriorating now. He had reached his peak and now his body was dying, beginning the descent into his grave; his real grave. She wondered what was more tragic, a young father dead, or this old man pleading for forgiveness. She felt cold. She felt sick, nausea sweeping over her in waves. Alex watched her expression change, he had watched her eat breakfast today, a controlled portion of sliced fruit and yoghurt. He didn’t want to see it come back. He urged her to sip the tea. She took some tentatively. Russell looked on at the interaction, the concern and love the older man showed to his daughter.

When Annabelle had calmed down, she returned her attention to her father, questions springing to her mind.
“Did you re-marry?”
He nodded.
“Do I have half-siblings?”
He nodded again, expecting her to blow up. She was in turmoil, a victim of the riptide in her brain. She nodded slowly.
“Do you love them?”
His lips pulled themselves into a smile, “Yes.”
“Did you love Christine?”
This was a complicated question, he had thought about this deeply on more than one occasion. He had definitely loved her at one stage, but the more he thought about it the more tainted the memory had become. They had married when Christine began to show her pregnancy.
“For a time.”
“What made you stop?”
“She changed.” He replied, “Or maybe she just reverted back to who she was before I met her.”
Annabelle finished her tea, letting her breath wash through the cup for a moment.
“Are my siblings cute?”
Russell nodded.
“How many do I have?”
“Two. A boy and a girl.” Annabelle looked at him wanting more information. “Rowan is 3 and Lily is 15 months.”
“Okay.” Annabelle nodded slowly. She liked kids. She had always likes kids, and always wanted a little brother or sister. She stared at the table. She didn’t really know what to say. Russell coughed.

“So, uh, Alex, what do you do?”
“I’m in a band.” He replied easily, “Annabelle just came on tour with us.”
Russell looked confused, “Doing what?”
“Oh, she takes really good photographs, she has an insanely good eye.” He boasted, smiling at his pensive girlfriend, who was not at all paying attention. Russell smiled too, overcome with pride for his daughter who had obviously grown up to be a smart, independent woman.
“And yourself?” Alex asked, trying to keep the flow of conversation, a skill he had mastered.
“Oh, I am an architect.”
“Awesome!” Alex said enthusiastically, “Now I know where Annabelle gets her creativity.”
Russell chuckled. The table fell silent.
“Annabelle,” Russell started, she looked up, “you have no idea where Christine is?”
Annabelle shook her head. He fingered his moustache.
“What are you going to do now?”
Annabelle shrugged, picking at the hair on Alex’s arm.
“You’re always welcome to stay at my house, you know that.” Russell said, while he scrabbled through his pockets. Finding a pen and a piece of paper her scribbled down his number and slid it toward Annabelle. She nodded, thanking him quietly.
“Well, Ron and I better be off.” He said, indicating to the policeman who had been sitting quietly at the head of the table. He nodded, rousing himself and they both shook Alex’s hand in turn. Annabelle didn’t make any effort to say goodbye, but followed them to the door with Alex. At the last minute Russell could't help himself and pulled Annabelle into a hug. Before she could respond he let go and was gone. When the door clicked shut she exhaled loudly.
“Holy fucking Jesus balls.”
“Jesus’ balls literally have nothing do with this.” Alex smiled, “Leave them out of this.”
“They’re always out, imagine if they were in, that would be messed up sex.”
“Gross.” Alex laughed, Annabelle chuckled and began to walk into the apartment again.
“But we are balls deep.” She said mysteriously. “I should be on a fucking sitcom. Disappeared insane mother, long lost father, going out with a rockstar. WHAT IS MY LIFE?”
Alex was glad she was seeing the humour, but she seemed exhausted. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she leaned into him, pressing herself against his chest.
“At least I have you.” Her voice muffled against his sweater. He pressed a kiss to her head, squeezing her tighter.

Notes