“I know that you’re the feeling I’m missing”—If I Can’t Have You by Shawn Mendes
My dad should be back home from work in thirty minutes.
I’ve been sitting in the living room, waiting for him ever since my talk with Julia.
It’s still crazy to think that we might actually get along. Though, for how long? I don’t have much time left before I potentially move out and I doubt I’ll see much of her after that.
Anyway, Julia is not the problem, nor has she ever been, really. I need to sort shit out with my dad, not her.
While waiting, my phone keeps chiming, but I don’t dare looking at my screen. There’s a high chance it’s Aaron again, but I’m not sure how long I can keep going with ignoring his messages.
The question is, why am I even ignoring his messages in the first place? Fear, perhaps? But what am I afraid of?
I know I said I want him to focus on his studies and hockey, and I needed to focus on my school and my issues… but now that I no longer have either of those—except for the long talk I’m about to have with my father—what is holding me back from sending him just one silly message?
The least I can do is see what he might want, right?
And so, I take my phone from the coffee table and check.
Aaron: Kinda really miss your biiboes.
Aaron: Bppburs.
Aaron: Boobies. Got it.
It should be a little too early for him to be drunk enough to mess up words like that. If I’m not mistaken, it’s only five p.m. for him.
Please tell me I have not caused him more problems with leaving…
Lily said he was heartbroken when I left, but that was to be expected. Now it’s four weeks later and he can’t possibly still be that down because of my absence, can he?
Looking around myself, I try to see if someone is anywhere nearby. But who should be? Julia went out with some friends; my mother is at some neighbor’s house and my brother has long been moved out. So it’s only me at home. For now.
And my dad won’t be home for another twenty-something minutes.
Which means…
I take off my shirt, followed by my bra. God, I’ve never sent nudes to anyone, let alone taken some but I suppose there’s a first time for everything. Lying down, I open the camera and bring my phone up high enough to capture me from my waist up.
Yes, yes, it’s smarter to take a picture without your face in it in case they get leaked, blah blah. Aaron wouldn’t leak them, he’s a bit too possessive of me to do so.
After taking at least fifty pictures, I quickly put my clothes back on before spending some time deciding which one’s the best. And once I found it, I select it and send it before I could overthink this.
From the moment I send the picture, it doesn’t take long until my phone starts ringing in my hands. Despite the little kick of anxiety in my stomach begging me not to pick up, I do.
“Sofia?” Aaron’s voice comes through the phone. He sounds a little breathless, but not drunk at all. “Did someone hack your phone?”
I laugh, only to stop when I hear Aaron gasp.
“You sent me a picture of your boobs, Sofia. And trust me, I know they’re yours because yours are basically burned into my memory.”
He wanted it, did he not? “You indirectly asked for it.”
“Yes, but… Damn.” He clears his throat. “Alright, uh, if I had—wow. If I had known it’d only take me asking for nudes for you to respond, I would have asked four weeks ago.”
I wouldn’t have sent it then, but I’m not saying that out loud. Instead I say, “Should’ve tried.”
“Fuck,” he cusses, and I just bet he’s got his eyes closed. “Sofia? I just want to let you know you killed me with that picture.”
I get up from the couch, pacing up and down the living room. “Where are you?” I ask, hearing some muffled chatter and music in the background.
“Brites with the boys,” he answers, his voice choked like he is holding back tears. “Jesus, I’m so fucked. I’m sorry.”
“Figured. Took you three whole tries to spell boobies,” I chuckle.
He groans. “Don’t say boobies, Icicle.”
“Why not?”
“Because I will have to sit down in Colin’s car and whack one off if you do.”
I’m about to respond, tease him a little more when I hear the front door open. My father is home early, and that I did not count with. “Listen, my dad just got home…”
“Uh-huh.” He breathes heavily into the phone. “Can I call you later?” He sounds a little scared, reluctant. Like he fears that the second we hang up, he’d never get to speak to me again. But he will.
I smile, knowing he can’t see that. “I’ll call you back when I talked to my dad, alright? I still haven’t gotten to do that, but I think it’s about time.”
“Okay.”
“Aaron?” He hums, letting me know he is still listening. “Don’t drink too much, alright?”
“I promise.”
“I love you.” It’s no surprise to anyone how easily those words roll off my tongue when said to him. I think deep down I have always known it was either going to be Aaron I fall in love with, or nobody. “Don’t say it back.”
“Okay.”
We say goodbye, and I hang up because he wouldn’t if I didn’t. To my utter surprise, I feel lighter now that I have talked to Aaron, even if it lasted a whole two minutes only.
Hearing his voice never fails to ease my nerves so much more than I think possible. Every time I believe it won’t work, it surprises me when the sound of his voice alone makes my heart beat faster with love for him, and my anxiety vanish into thin air.
“Dad!” I call out, knowing the first room he’s about to enter is the kitchen to get himself an after-work-snack before mum cooks for dinner.
I can watch him stop in his tracks by the door to the living room, a little shocked to hear me call for him. I would be too if I were him.
“Yes?” He drops his bag by the door, walking into the room.
“Can we talk?”
My father nods carefully, slowly coming closer. “You’re not like pregnant or anything, are you? Because if so, you should ask your mother for advice, not me.”
Bemused I shake my head. “No, I am not pregnant, dad.”
He blows out some air, being visibly relieved. My dad takes a seat on the armchair next to the sofa, looking at me without saying a word.
Just spit it out right? Get it over with.
“Do you believe I pushed my grandpa down the stairs and killed him?” Maybe a little too straight-forward?
To not drag this out too much, here’s a little summary of how our talk turns out.
My father ends up saying he never thought I murdered my grandpa, what turned out to be true as it wasn’t my fault. Someone seriously should have told me this years ago, would have prevented a lot of sleepless nights and trauma for me.
The reasons my father and I haven’t been getting along all these years is apparently because I just shut him out, which I did. I did because I thought he blamed me for the death of his father-in-law. And, well, I love holding grudges, apparently. I’m still a little mad he made us move in the first place, but I suppose it’s time I finally let go off of it.
Moving to Germany has been hell for me at first, but my life here turned out to be great anyway. Apart from the cheating boyfriend, the father I didn’t exchange a word with, and the sister I thought hates me.
And maybe the schools. They’re shit too.
But aside from that, my life here was great, so there is no need to keep on holding a grudge for something that did turn out to be okay.
Besides, I am dating Aaron now, aren’t I? So my dreams did end up coming true even if I was an ocean apart from him for thirteen years.
“So, uh, dad. We might have to talk about me moving…”
