Page 68 of Finding a Melody

She took in a sharp breath. “What are you talking about?”

I lifted up the letter and quoted it. “I always imagine when you get these, you burn them, or maybe there’s a drawer you shove them into? Yet, I won’t stop writing to you.”

For a long time, Lindie didn’t say anything. Frankly, I kind of expected her to hang up on me.

“Your father doesn’t have the right to talk to us. Not after walking out, leaving me with you.” She grumbled on the other end, most of it garbled up thanks to the phone. Or maybe it was the sound of my blood whooshing through my veins as my anger grew tenfold.

“You’ve been destroying Dad’s letters?” I thought about all the times I sang with the hope that he’d hear me. That he’d come back.

“Good for nothing is what he is. He isn’t a father.”

“Lindie,” I said, putting more weight into my voice to get her attention before she went on a tangent that’d make little sense. “You’ve been receiving letters from my dad. Letters meant for me? And what? Tore them up? Burned them? Tossed them? He’s been writing to us?”

“He wrote to me!” Lindie snapped. “And I don’t give a shit what he has to say. He can go to hell, but I’m not letting him drag either of us down.”

My heart dropped as I stared down at the envelope with his familiar handwriting. The way it was addressed to me. And the contents of the letter.

“Burn it. Get rid of whatever he sent you,” she snapped.

I grimaced, imagining what she’d do if she were here in person. No doubt she’d come for the letter, take it away from me, and tear it all up. Then she’d take her anger out on me with harsh words, berating me, making me feel small. She’d probably hit me too. This would have caused her to go into one of her episodes that left me on the floor, unable to move.

“Those l-letters were mine,” I whispered, realizing that wasn’t the case, even as my hands shook. She wasn’t here. She couldn’t touch me. I was able to speak out without her stopping me.

“So?” Her voice was cold and harsh.

I shuddered, picturing her expression at the moment. The hard cruelty in her eyes. The way her lips would be pressed together as she suppressed her emotions. Maybe even her hair a little frazzled, because if I had caught her with that letter, then I would have seen how it’d affected her enough to ruin her perfect image.

“That man has no right to speak to us. He walked out on you, left you behind. Left me to deal with you. He has no right at all. He doesn’t get to talk to you. Ignore me.” She mumbled more to herself, and I knew I had lost her. I hung up, not able to deal with her anymore.

I stared at the letter in complete disbelief. Dad had written to me.

He had tried to reach out to me.

Fiery hatred surged through my body and I fisted my hands, crumpling the letter. I never wanted to physically lash out at someone before. Never felt that need bubble inside of me so deeply that my fingers itched to curl into fists. I wanted to scream until I was hoarse. To stomp until the world crumbled at my feet. Irritation trembled through me, so deep and dark that I wanted to cry and scream and yell and cry some more.

While I’d been going up on stage, pouring my heart out with each song, hoping Dad would hear me and finally come back, Lindie had been destroying any letters he sent us. Sent me.

How could she? Those were my letters from Dad. And she... she just...

A scream clawed up my throat, pushing to come out. I ran up to my room, ignoring my aches as I climbed into bed, grabbed my pillow, pressed my face into it, and just screamed and screamed and screamed.

I kept seeing my name in his neat handwriting. I remembered so much about Dad. He worked a lot and when he came back and spent time with Lindie, he’d spend time with me, and those moments were the best. Work kept him busy, but he made sure to be as present in my life as often as possible. He had been my best friend.

At least until he couldn’t be around anymore, until I pushed him over the edge.

But before that, I had been happy. He had played with me, taught me music, pushed me to be as best as I could with what I loved doing. I wouldn’t be as in love with music as I was now without him. Lindie would have destroyed my love with how often she forced it onto me. Without him, I would have despised music, thought it was more of a chore than a passion.

When my throat grew sore and I could barely talk, I finally stopped. The pillow was soaked in tears and spit, and I threw it at the door before curling into a ball.

Dad had written to me. For who knew how long. He’d been trying to reach out to me. And all the while I had been trying to do the same. We’d been trying to desperately reach each other and Lindie ended up being the one standing in our way.

How many letters did I miss out on?

My heart broke again, and I grabbed my shirt, fisting the fabric as I tried to make myself as small as possible. Lindie was locked away, and yet she still managed to break something in me. She’d done so much to me over the years, but this... this was it. This I couldn’t handle.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out of my pocket. Paxon’s name flashed across the screen. It stopped and a few seconds later, his name appeared again.

“Yeah?” I answered, my voice cracking.