Routine. Some people crave it, and others run from it. No matter what you do, people can’t escape it in one form or another, and that’s fine by me. My dad is the type of person that lives for routines. Before my mom left us, there was rarely order or predictability in our lives. It was as if we lived in the eye of a hurricane, with everything constantly changing as the gust of wind threatened our very existence. Now that she’s gone, Dad and I are like bees to honey. We work peacefully together to make sure we have a successful and productive day-to-day routine.

However, try as one might, peace does not go uninterrupted. The bees and the honey get separated by the beekeeper, and the bees must cautiously rebuild their supply of honey. In my life, I had two people acting as beekeepers; they wanted to separate my father and me. My mother was one, and my best friend and sometimes enemy was another.

My mother has always been a free spirit. It was no surprise when she divorced my father because he was blackening her aura. What did come as a surprise was that she wanted me to move away with her. The conversation that we had did not go well.

 “Ryan, you can’t stay with your father. He will blacken your soul and destroy your heart.”

 “Mom, I’m happy here with Dad. He loves me and would never hurt me as you did.”

“Rye Bread,” she moved to embrace me, but I stepped away, “I never meant to hurt you. I did what was best for both…”

“Correction! You did what was best for you, and I want no part of it.”

“Ryan Avery Harper, YOU are moving with me to Big Bear, and that’s all there is to it,” or so she thought.

 My dad put up one hell of a fight for sole custody and won. Ever since then, we’ve been like two peas in a pod. My mother dropped out of the picture; she didn’t even call for birthdays or holidays. I loved my dad for always knowing and doing what is best for me. He knew I belonged in Torrance, CA, with him and the people I grew up with, and he made sure that it happened. So, imagine my surprise and feelings of rejection when he betrayed my trust and forever altered my life.

Now I mentioned two beekeepers; the second one is more of a child with a stick seeking to get the honey and destroy the hive. Brittney is always full of mischief and bad ideas and had been that way since we were little girls. Our fathers were best friends, which automatically made us bosom buddies, which is why it came as a shock to me when she decided to destruct my family.

After my mother left my father for some up-and-coming fitness and spiritual guru, Brittney started to seduce my father jokingly. She would come over to the house in these skimpy outfits that her mother would never allow her to wear. Secretly she changed her clothes once she was safely on the school campus and away from the ever-watchful eye of her overly religious mother.

At first, it was funny to me that she was acting so trashy in an attempt to attract my father. I don’t think he noticed, or at least he didn’t let on that he noticed. He just kissed her on the forehead like he always did when he saw her, and he went on about his business. I figured that Brittney would eventually grow bored with her game and go after some dumb college jock that was more her speed.

I thought it was all fun and games until late one night; I caught her sipping a glass of red wine with my father. It was a Friday night, and Brittney and I were having one of our regular sleepovers. When I woke up for water, I found that the glass I usually keep by my bed was gone, and so was Brittney. So, I went downstairs. All the lights in the house were off except the ones in the kitchen; it was quiet, and I could hear husky whispers and seductive giggles.

“You’re much too young to be drinking wine,” I heard my father say.

“Matt, you flatter me,” she giggled. “With a mother like mine, a girl needs a nice smooth glass of wine. Besides, I’m much older and more mature than you think I am,” she whispered as she dipped her finger in her wine glass and licked it. All the while, she rubbed her free hand down her thigh, slightly spreading her legs to show her absence of panties.

 Brittney was a major slut, my best friend, but still a major slut. She would tell me stories about the guys she would flirt with and get them to take her back to their place. She would tell me about her one-night stands and how she would leave the guys wanting more. I never judged her before, but maybe I should have because now she was playing her little games with my family.

My father loosened his tie while moving closer to her, so close he could touch her if he dared. As his mind indulged in her, Brittney slipped one of the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders to reveal one plump, perky breast. My father reached out to caress her chest. Brittney threw her head back and gasped with exhilaration; then, she turned her head in the direction of the staircase landing.

She knew I was there. A devious smile rolled upon her face, and I knew she had orchestrated this entire situation. She knew I woke up for a glass of water every night at about the same time. She knew that every Friday night, my father would sit in the kitchen alone and enjoy a few glasses of wine to help him unwind from a stressful week. Brittney had set me up. She wanted me to see that she could do it. She wanted to prove that she had the power to control people, make them do what she wanted to do and not the other way around.

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