My heart raced, pumping blood like crazy through my body. My hands shook and my fingers danced. They itched for my guitar. I could get through this if I had my guitar. With my guitar, I had control. I could play what I wanted to play, sing lyrics that empowered me, held me up and I could feel them in my body.
Kit’s voice sounded in my head.
Sing.
I never sang without my guitar. Ever.
A lot of the time I still felt uncomfortable singingwithmy guitar, but Kit’s voice played over and over in my mind.
Sing. Sing.
So I did. My voice seemed so loud in the large room, or maybe it was because I was so used to having to sing over the sound of the guitar. I’m not sure, but it sounded strange and kind of pretty. I tried to feel the words of the song, it was different, but I did it anyway.
While I wasn’t Mylie’s biggest fan, her song ‘When I Look At You’was the perfect representation of my feelings. It was about realizing that someone was more to you than just a lover. That was what Kit had become, he was my song in the silence.
“You have a beautiful voice.”
I jumped about four feet into the air and spun around to find a man standing in the doorway. He was tall, handsome even for his age which I gauged was around late fifties. He wore a well-tailored charcoal suit and his hair was gray, matching the tidy beard that framed his face. There was something familiar about him.
I sat at the edge of the bed, not moving or speaking as he walked around me, his eyes grazing up and down my body. The strange thing was, it didn’t feel sexual. It was like he was studying me, trying to decipher who I was. What I was. Asking questions, but he seemed like he’d be the type of man to already know the answers.
“You weren’t what I was expecting.”
I looked down at my short jean cut-offs and plain T-shirt. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint.”
A small smile formed on his mouth and he shook his head. He leaned against the back of the leather couch and crossed one leg over the other as he folded his arms, his body relaxed. “Oh no, I’m not disappointed. In your picture you looked a lot like your mother, but seeing you now there are a lot of differences.”
I tensed and shot him with a dark glare. “What do you know about her?”
“I know everything about her. At least I used to.”
“Get to it. What do you want?” My body now finding some fight, my protective mind kicking in.
“I wanted to meet you.”
“Why?”
“I believe a father should know his daughter.”