..... "I love you too," I replied, and hung up the phone.


Chapter 3

     Jon arrived at the hotel at exactly five thirty-six. I knew this because while I wasn’t religiously looking through the peep-hold on the door, I was waiting at the window and checking the clock every few minutes. I checked in the hallway several times for Father, even though I knew it was impossible for him to find me. I grabbed my bag, and ran down to the lobby, and practically sprinted out the door to where Jon was waiting.
     Jon was a tall man, at least I though so. He was five-ten, and there was a hint of overgrowth on his pale skin. Fair skin was a trait acquired from our mother. He also has brown eyes, like me, but there were soft hints of olive in there also. Jon was always active, and although I hadn’t seen him often, I could tell he was still in shape. He was wearing olive pajama pants, and a dirty, white T-shirt. I stood on my tip-toe so hug him, and kissed him on the cheek. In doing so, I caught a whiff of his cologne. I had forgotten how great he smelled.
     “Hey Lisa. You look great considering the circumstances. How are you?”
     “Tired. I couldn’t get to sleep. I had a bad dream.” After saying this, I wished that Mom was still around, that way I could crawl in bed with her, and tell her all about it. Jon opened the door for me, and then I slipped right into the leather seats.
     “So what has father been doing since I left? Has he called you at all yet?”
     “Well, he did call me, but I didn’t understand a word he was saying. He was drunk, wasn’t he?”
     “No, well yes, but that wasn’t what was causing him trouble speaking. He probably has a concussion. I hit him on the head with a beer bottle, and then again with that old ugly vase of mom’s that we all hated, but that Father wanted to keep. I feel bad now, because I broke the vase, but it was the only way I could escape him. He was nuts, so I left.”
     “That explains a lot. He was just randomly muttering, but I was able to catch a few words. He was saying things like, ‘head hurts. Lisa gone. Mom’s van.’ Or something like that. I had gotten confused after he said, ‘Mom’s van.’ He must have been talking about the vase. He hasn’t called since. Why do you ask?”
     “Just wondering,” I lied. The truth was, I wasn’t just wondering. I shouldn’t have really cared at all, considering all that he put me though. But for some reason, I did. I wanted to know how devastated he was when I left, how well he was coping, and if he was changing his was. Hearing what Jon just said, I was deeply disappointed. I wanted him to suffer.
     “Do you need anything for tonight, besides a blanket and pillows?” Jon asked. I shook my head. I had already gotten everything I needed at the store yesterday.
Finally, we were at his apartment complex. I grabbed my bag and headed up to his apartment. Apartment six, he had told me. I tried to head straight in, but the door was locked.
     “Hold on, Lisa. I got the key.” He said. I swiftly unlocked the door. I could barely even see his hands moving.
     I dumped everything on the couch and ritualistically checked the refrigerator. I was drastically hungry, for I could here my stomach begging for food again. Nothing was in the fridge, so I checked the freezer. Green Sherbet, my favorite. I grabbed the tub, along with a spoon and I started devouring the sherbet. I sat down on the couch next to Jon, he was watching me with cautious eyes; wondering weather or not to enforce his rules, or to let me continue on my merry way.  Jon turned on the television, and I watched as Jay Leno bashed the latest Hollywood stories. I didn’t have enough energy to pay attention to it all, so I just I stared blankly at the wall in font of me as I shoveled in my breakfast. This sherbet was delicious. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, after all.


Part seven is posted!
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