44. Then
Then: March 7th
D ad and I continue going through the motions. After three weeks of grinding my teeth through school, Dad decided to pull me out. At first, I refused. I did not want to take online classes. School still sucked, but at least I wasn’t home. It had been a much-needed distraction, but my grades were starting to slip, and I had trouble focusing in class. Who could blame me though? The teachers wanted to do whatever they could to help me, but I had stopped caring altogether. Dad picked up on this quicker than they did and pulled me out, which surprised me. He’d never seemed to notice me before.
Our lives have been divided into Befores and Afters. Before Mom died… I loved reading and writing, but now I can’t pick up a book or a pen. Before Mom died… I had what I thought was my best friend for life—now, I have no one.
After… our family fell apart. After… we became empty shells, barely living. After… We forgot who we once were because this new wa y of life overtook everything else. One day you wake up and can’t remember what it was like before. Because that felt like a daydream, and this is reality.
I peel myself out of my thoughts and focus back on Dad. He’s been more attentive than he’s ever been. It’s kind of nice, but it’s also strange.
He offers me a deal. Not a promise, he says, but a deal. Okay, I’m listening. If I start bringing my grades up at home, he’ll find me an online school where I can complete my courses and still graduate by next summer. It’s an accelerated online program and I’ll be able to graduate early. He'll also let me start doing my schoolwork at our local library. I think it’s a great idea and eagerly shake with him on it.
I’m not quite there yet, but I’m hoping soon he’ll see enough improvement that I can at least work on assignments somewhere else. I’d say yes to doing homework just about anywhere. Anywhere but here.
Dad surprises me when he comes home with a new desk one day. He’d seen a listing for it in the local paper and had picked it up for me so I have a new space to work and study. And also write. I haven't written anything new since Mom’s death, but eventually, I’d like to begin again.
I can see that Dad meant what he said to me, about wanting to be here for me and take care of me. I haven’t exactly doubted him, but I’d never seen it play out either. So far, he’s kept his word.
Even though I’m not part of the public school system anymore, Dad has built us an unofficial “spring break.” It feels a bit too soon to be thinking about going somewhere, but I think we both need it. We’ve been stuck in this place for far too long, and without Mom here, things aren’t quite the same. They aren’t the same at all. Dad keeps trying his hand at new recipes, which end in failure, and we end up ordering food. I miss cooking, but it reminds me too much of her. I simply can’t right now. Maybe someday, but not today .
It’s two p.m. in the afternoon when Dad mentions going somewhere again, and this time I don’t make untimely jokes, I listen. I’m ready for a break as much as he is. He could tell me we are going to spend a week at a farm and I’d say okay. Anywhere but here. The house feels hollow and lifeless without her, and we both sense that. It’ll probably feel the same as soon as we return, but at least we get a break from here for a little while.
“So, when are we leaving?” I ask, closing my laptop on the kitchen table. I’ve been working here today and have completed all my assignments.
“Next weekend has a spot open, but they fill up fast, so we will need to reserve our place today.”
Wow that soon, huh?
“Where are we going?” I ask, busying myself with gathering up my spread of supplies along the table. I’ve got a notebook, a calculator, a dictionary, and my laptop.
“Uh, I was thinking maybe we’d go to Sally’s,” he says.
I instantly stop what I’m doing and stare up at him. I blink a few times before I get that he’s not joking. He’s being serious right now.
“Sally’s… as in Sally’s in the Park?” I ask, incredulous.
He nods. “Yep, that’s it. I know what you’re thinking right now. Don’t give me that look, P.”
If he thinks we are spending a long weekend or even a week at that state park, he’s lost his mind. I’ve changed my mind. If that’s where he wants to go, I’m better off staying here—alone. I’ll come in and kiss you goodnight when I get home, okay? I need some time alone. My mother’s voice rings in my ears. I close my eyes and will her presence away from me.
“That was Mom’s place,” I say quietly, fidgeting with a peeling piece of paint on the edge of the table.
“I know… and that’s why I think it’d be special if we went there. We’ve never camped there before, only the day camps. Come on , it would be a great way to honor her memory, while also trying to make some new ones.”
I know he means well, but really. Any place else. Say the word and I’ll go. Anywhere else. Please.
“I don’t want to go there, Dad. Sorry,” I say, avoiding a glance at the hurt look I know is in his eyes. I’m not trying to be mean. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but it’s obvious that is exactly what I’m doing.
“Okay…” he says, defeat laced in his voice.
I don’t mean to crush his spirit, but I also don’t want to be in the very place that screams her name. I’m trying to do the very opposite.
“Remember last summer when Mom and I went to California?” I ask.
He lifts an eyebrow at me, unsure of where I’m going with this.
“Yes, of course. Why?”
“Well, I never really asked you, but does Mom have a sister that lives there?”
He stares at me blankly, as if I’m speaking a foreign language. Maybe I am. I could be speaking in tongues for all I know.
“What? You’re asking me if Mom has a sister?”
“Yes.”
“Uhhh, well I don’t know. She never mentioned anyone living there.”
I’ve asked before, but Mom always avoided the topic and changed the subject. It seems like a lifetime ago now. While we’re here I may as well ask now.
“What happened to Mom’s family, Dad? I mean, she never talked about them, but she had one right?”
“Of course. Everybody does. I never met them. She did mention having siblings once, but not any of their names. When she’d gotten pregnant in college, dropped out, and married her college professor her family removed her name from their family entirely. They were ashamed of her behavior and wanted nothing to do with her. Or me. They were ashamed she’d chosen me. She was pretty much on her own the moment we got together. So, she may have a sister, but I’ve never met her. I was never given a chance to meet anyone from her family. That’s something I’ll carry with me forever.”
His eyes look down as he says this, and I want to reach out and grab his hand, to let him know that I don’t resent him for it. I understand him better because of it. But I don’t move.
“Then what did she tell you we were doing in Cali the whole time?” I ask, truly curious and also trying to steer the conversation somewhere lighter.
“Oh.” He chuckles.
I haven’t heard him laugh in ages. I’d almost forgotten what it sounded like. I wished he’d do it more often.
“She said she was taking you to the beach so you could finally get some sunshine and wind in your hair.” He smiles at me, tears in his eyes at the memory. It had only been last summer, but we both remember it like it happened yesterday.
This time it’s my turn to laugh. I seriously can’t with that woman, my mother—always keeping us on our toes. Always wondering what is coming next.
“Well, did you get a chance to do that?” he asks me.
I smile back and nod my head. “Well, I don’t know what she was doing, but yes, I got plenty of sunshine and wind in my hair. Mom was off with somebody that might have been her sister. But I guess we’ll never really know.”
“No, I guess we won’t.” He agrees.
“You know what, you’re right. Let’s go to Sally’s. That would have meant a lot to her,” I say, meaning it.
“Really? Because if you would rather go someplace else—” For the first time in what feels like forever, his dull-gray eyes shimmer with something I’d almost forgotten… hope.
I don’t let him finish. “No, Dad. It’s perfect. I’ll get started making a list of all the items we are going to need. It’s going to be great.”
And for the first time in weeks, I believe that. Of course, I miss Mom. I miss her so bad that every time I think of her—smell her around the house or see something of hers lying around as though she’s just out on one of her errands and will be home soon—my chest throbs with an ache so deep that sometimes I worry it’s possible for my heart to have split into two pieces. It’s not an ache that will go away. It might fade with time, but I’m not convinced that it ever will.
I am looking forward to spending some time with Dad. I wish it could have happened more. Happened sooner. When we were still a whole family. But we never really were whole to begin with, were we? I’ve quickly learned that if something happens eventually that is better than never happening at all—and here we are. At the end of the day, sometimes little girls still need their daddies.