I don't want to believe this. I know most people would love to have such an opportunity to turn back the clock and maybe change something. But I just prefer my life this way. Healed and nearly sane. With a family of my own.
I take a deep breath, trying to regain my balance and regretting telling Lucas to stay at home with the kids. I should have asked his mom to watch them. I'm definitely not as capable of handling this alone as I believed I was. Good God.
Ok, I'm in the car. And he's not interested in the parking lot. There is a lot of customers swarming around the counter.

It's been fifteen years, how should I know whether it's him or not? I mean, Millie was only six when it all happened, she most certainly can be wrong about this man. For a moment I seriously consider calling her or my husband, but ultimately I restrain from it. It's my dirty laundry. I have to wash it myself. If there actually is dirty laundry and it all is not just a delusion of grandeur. I sigh. I birthed three children, became the CEO of a huge company, and successfully built a home with a man. While we both mentally struggled. And we were both twenty years old. I can walk into a stupid flower shop and take a look at an assistant who probably won't recognize me, even if somehow he is my father. I mean, I only just turned eleven back then. There's no way he would be able to tell it's me.

Get it together, Ava.
I get out of the car. My hands begin to tremble as I reach for the remote and close the doors. It's boiling hot. That definitely doesn't make it easier for me to be out here. I hate weather like this. It makes me feel like I'm going to faint. In front of a group of some teenagers devouring ice cream in the corner. Just great. Come on, you're overreacting. There's no valid proof. It may be just a random John and you're gonna laugh about it with Millie tomorrow. Stop being ridiculous.

I make a decision to shake it off and rush to the glass door. The closer I get, the more fixated on his face I become. I analyze every wrinkle, every single detail I'm able to distinguish. His eye color, the shape of his nose and lips. His chin. Cheekbones. The way his hair falls down on his forehead and gets into his eyes. His arms. His posture. And I catch myself thinking "oh, he hasn't changed a bit".

I freeze with my hand on the door handle.
" Oh, my God. It is Gerald Wallace."
I stumble. An older lady trying to get out of the shop sends me an angry look. I pull away.
"Seriously, child, get it together" she lets out under her breath, then goes away, holding a bag filled with flower pots.
I try saying I'm sorry, but I don't manage.
I didn't expect this to be true. I genuinely did not. I realize I've got no plan.

I step aside, with my eyes glued to the window. The wind rises and plays with my sundress, the air almost bathing me in its warmth. Swaying me the way it pleases.
I observe his hands, handing a bouquet of flowers to some young guy. They seem so rough and burnt with the sun. So does his face. The gleam in his eyes is still there, though. Well, it wasn't when I last checked, but I remember it to have been there at some point.
"Hey, are you alright?" A woman seemingly in her thirties approaches me, obviously concerned.
Only now I realize that tears are streaming down my face. And I'm shaking. I can't believe this is real.
"I'll be fine" I mumble. "Please don't worry about it". I try saying that in a confident voice, as I don't want anyone to get involved. But my throat wholesomely fails me.
The flashback strikes too hard.

I stand in the construction site, the storm is getting crazier and crazier. I shiver like my body is in about to fall to pieces, and Millie is crying, clenched to my hand with all her might. We try moving onwards, but metal fragments of the edifice are constantly flying above our heads and we're too afraid.
"Dad!" I yell, and yell, and yell. So strong my throat feels ripped apart. I'm crying and can barely see what's going on. Then I finally see him, bowed over a man who's soaked in blood. And he's holding some weird, metal tool. It's huge. And my father's face is bloody too. But somehow I know it's not his blood. His eyes meet mine for a split second, then a police brigade runs out from behind the buildings. Paramedics rush in right after them. They put the hurt man on a stretcher. And the policemen shove my father to the ground.
"Dad!" I shriek.
"It's ok, honey" a police officer grabs us in his arms and squeezes us hard. We tremble more and more. Kicking and screaming, when they take us away to their car.

"Are you sure?" The woman snaps me out of it. I only nod. "Ok, then. Have some cold water."
She squeezes my arm and walks away. As soon as I move my sight from her, I realize her eyes weren't the only ones to stare at me. There they are. Ambers, as my mother used to call them. They pierce into me as if I'm a ghost.
Oh, my God. He actually got it right. It's me.

There's a short moment of resistance, as he's trying to figure out if he's not mistaken. When something ensures him he isn't, he says a few words to a man standing right next to the counter and takes his apron off. Then he comes out.

"Are you ok?" He asks.
I shake my head. "Let me get ya some ice water." He puts his arm around my waist to support me, then leads me inside. His grip is strong and stable. He sits me down in a chair and touches my forehead. As if he was trying to determine whether I have a fever or not.
"Leslie, fetch me a glass of ice water, would you?" He asks a girl, occupied with cutting roses.
"Sure." She looks rather puzzled, and a bit worried.
"Oh, my God" I whisper.
"Do you need help?" Some customer approaches us considerately.
"I will need a towel soaked in cold water. You can find one under the counter. The bathroom is next to the pot stand. It's open, you don't need the key. Thank you."
Leslie comes back with that glass of water, and I begin questioning if he actually did recognize me.
"There you go. Do you want me to call 911?"
"No, I can handle this. She'll be fine".
"Ok".
He gently puts the cold glass in my hand and pulls it up to my mouth.
"There you are baby, nice and slow".
I take a few shaken sips when the man with a towel comes back. " I'll take it from here, thanks again". He looks at the man, who nods and goes back to looking at the assortment.

My father puts the cold towel on my forehead and holds it there.
"The air conditioning should make it better. Why were you standing in that heat?"

I look at him, not understanding a bit out of it all.

"Melina told me..." I begin. "She told me she saw you the other day." I stutter. "Why are you working at a flower shop?"
He chuckles.
"We've got fifteen years to catch-up on. But now, drink your water and cool down a bit. I promise to tell you everything after, deal?"

#reunion
#father
#mystery
#family