Chapter 29 Penelope
Chapter twenty-nine
Penelope
The cold early morning air whips through my jacket and claws at my ribs. I hadn’t had time to really grab appropriate clothing when Daniel stormed out of the house with Danny. I knew he would worry when I texted him, but I never imagined him showing up and taking her.
I can’t even blame him. I understand completely what it’s like to have your heart live outside of your own body and be vulnerable to viruses and injury.
His history with his sister simply multiplied it.
Was his reaction over the top? Absolutely, but I was going to let him do what he needed to do for reassurance. How could I deny him that?
It was the fury in his eyes. It was the hurt I caused.
It was seeing my happy, cocky, flirty Daniel so utterly heartbroken by my own choices that had me practically sprinting out of that hospital.
I should feel guilty for leaving Danny there, but she knows and trusts Daniel, and I knew I was about to break down.
My damp cheeks turn cold and then numb from the wind, even as the sky starts to turn the soft purple it does just before dawn.
I could call Cara and talk about it, but I’m not sure I’m ready for her blunt honesty right now.
Shivering, I find myself walking aimlessly for I don’t know how long.
My legs take me left, and I realize I’m standing outside of the Arlington Cemetery, where my dad is buried.
I walk mindlessly to his grave and stare at his headstone as if it has all the answers.
I never visit it. I’ve never taken Danny here.
She can’t feel the loss of a man she never met, and my loss still feels so fresh, even after all these years.
Does one ever really get over the loss of a parent?
Or do we all just figure out a new norm?
Hall R. Sills. Loving father and husband.
I was there at the funeral home with Gen and my sisters when they discussed what to put on his headstone. I didn’t care. It was a piece of rock with a name on it. My father - my hero - was gone. They could have placed an ad for McDonalds on it. None of the details mattered.
The words look just as hollow now as they had back then.
Chilled, I sit in front of the stone. I know he’s not here, but his name carved into the stone gives me something to talk to.
Or talk at. Maybe it’ll help me make sense of the thousands of thoughts that swirl like a hurricane through my head.
Somewhere during my walk, a headache started at my temples and threatened to spread.
“What do I do?” I whisper, my voice taken quickly by the wind.
“You made me promise. It was literally the last words we spoke to each other. But Gen... that doesn’t feel like family.
” Speaking aloud the thoughts that have plagued me for months now feels like I’m betraying something.
Like I’m betraying the idea of the family that we could have been.
I think about what I know about family, and honestly, it’s pretty sparse.
I think about the belabored sighs my dad would give me if I were even the slightest inconvenience.
I remember when I was young. We walked into a Walmart to get a six-pack of beer, and I saw one of those disposable cameras on sale for four dollars.
I tugged him to a stop and asked if he would buy it for me.
He’d told me ‘No’. I remember it as a core memory.
I didn’t know why it stunned me so much as a child, but as a parent now, the echo of the sting reverberates.
It’s not even about the money. I didn’t have money before Daniel, but if Danny wanted something that would make her happy, and I could provide it, I would.
Now, as an adult, I don’t understand having the power to make your child happy and actively choosing not to. If we had the money for beer, we had the money for that stupid disposable camera.
Hot tears streak down my cheeks again, but instead of wiping them off, I let them.
That’s the only semblance of family I knew.
One that labeled me a burden almost from day one.
A mother who didn’t stick around. A father who didn’t care if I was happy or not.
I knew for certain that I loved my father - that my world revolved around him - but now I’m starting to wonder if he loved me at all.
Acid burns in my gut at the idea of making Danny feel like a burden.
I’d sew my own mouth shut before I sighed like my father did when she was being inconvenient.
In fact, she’s never been inconvenient because she’s a kid.
I think about Daniel with Danny. How patient and kind he is.
How whenever they’re talking, no matter how insignificant the topic is, he gives her his full attention.
How even when she rejected him, he handled her with care.
He put her comfort before his pride. How he went out of his way to make space for her in his house.
How important it was to him that she know she’s welcome there.
He had every right to reject us both, but he never faltered.
He the moment he found out he was a father, he didn’t hesitate.
He simply bought a car seat and Googled questions to ask a four-year-old.
Another memory hits my chest like a physical thing.
Daniel heard that Danny had a fever, so he rushed over, scooped her up and brought her to a hospital.
When I was twelve, I came down with a bad case of mono.
I remember my fever spiking to a hundred and four.
I remember my dad sighing, calling my pediatrician and asking what he should do, and instead of taking me to the doctor or giving me medicine, he put me in a cold bath to get the fever down.
No sense of urgency, no sense of fear or concern.
Christ. And here I was, turning my back on a good man who puts me and our daughter first, for a family of what?
A father who, I’m starting to suspect, never really cared about me.
A stepmother who is bed-ridden until someone worth using the dining room shows up?
And two stepsisters who would happily take Daniel away from me because he has money, and they don’t believe I deserve it?
No. Daniel’s right. I can wish and hope and pray that Gen, Chastity, Grace and me become a family, but I can’t make them care about me.
And then the mom-guilt comes in again. In trying to honor my father’s dying wish, I’ve placed Danny in the exact situation I didn’t want her in.
Our room was in the basement, so she didn’t disturb Gen and my sisters.
We cooked and cleaned on the first level, but we always had to be quiet because Chastity and Grace usually slept in.
When the alternative is a beautiful home, with a good man, who loves us both hard enough to never feel like a burden.
Mentally and emotionally exhausted, I push to stand. I’m not a bad person for wanting better for myself and Danny. I’m not a bad person for turning my back on what I thought was family. I’m not a bad person for breaking my promise to my dad.
But I am a bad person for hurting Daniel the way that I have.