Next to her was a tall, happy-looking man who had his arm around her. He had blonde hair and blue eyes just like Clarke. She instantly knew it must be a picture of her father. She'd always wondered about him, but she'd never had the courage to ask.
She picked up the picture and skipped back into the living room where she found her mother setting up a bookshelf they'd bought from the thrift store. "Mama, mama!" she called in excitement. "Look what I found."
Her mother wiped sweat off her brow and looked at Clarke with frustration. "Clarke, can't you see I'm busy?" she asked harshly, but Clarke passed her the photo anyway.
"Is this my daddy?" Clarke pointed to the man in the photo, and she saw her mother's expression change just for a moment before it went sour again. Her mother stayed silent for a moment like she hoped Clarke would go away or maybe the question would answer itself. But Clarke stood her ground, shaking the photo at her. So, her mother snatched the photo away and threw it in a pile of trash she was keeping to her right.
"He was a quitter, Clarke," she said matter-of-factly, not even looking up at her daughter when she did. She still hadn't admitted for sure that it was her father.
"I look like him," Clarke said quietly.
"Well, then you better change it. He's not the kind of man you want anything in common with," her mother spat at her.
Clarke couldn't stop the tears from running down her cheeks at her mother's words, but her mother ignored it. "Forget about it, Clarke. This is a new life here, and we're never looking back. We're going to be important here, and it's all because I worked hard to get here. So wipe those up and hold your head high. Things are going to change around here." As Mrs. Bennett spoke, she looked up as if she was seeing something that wasn't there; a dream of a future that she'd always wanted. One that her own daughter didn't seem to fit into.