“I found my mother dead when I was six years old. She was cold, stiff, and covered in her own vomit. The doctors said she drank herself to death. My father said I killed her.” He swallows hard closing his eyes. “For a long time, I believed him,” he admits. Now picking at a frayed hole in his jeans.
“No dad,” I protest reaching out and resting my hand on his forearm. “Please tell me you didn’t believe that.”
“What other choice would I as a child have?” he asks frowning at me his voice offended. “What else could I do but believe him. I lost my mother when I was so young, and I found her. And even when she was alive, there was never a show of affection the way other parents would show affection to their children. There was neglect and abuse. So much abuse Lucy,” he’s shaking his head and resting his head in his hands.
“One of the few things I remember my mother saying growing up was how much of a strain I put on her life. When you hear that enough, when you hear what a burden you are, you begin to believe it. What else can you do? You have to believe it. And when it’s the only thing you hear, it’s the only thing you know, and every action you make reinforces that you are the problem, and you will never be enough. So eventually you stop trying,” he whispers his eyes going distant and vacant. “What’s the point in trying if none of it even matters? You’ll never be good enough, you will never be happy, or make someone else happy.”
“Daddy,” I whisper my heart heavy and my eyes wet, “I’m so sorry, I never knew.”
“I know. I didn’t want you to know. I wanted to protect you all from everything that I endured. I would rather die than know that I have hurt you and Abbie the way I was hurt. I am so sorry, but I have hurt you now, he whispers closing his eyes. Your mother was an angel,” he sighs with a small smile.
“She came in to light my life and made everything better, brighter. She was so kind, so gentle, I never worried about whether or not you girls would be taken care of. I simply knew that she would be there. She was always there for me too. Your mother and I met when we were in high school. I was the angry kid in and out of in school suspension, constantly being suspended and sent home. And somehow finding myself back in the school system again. Your mother,” he smiles, “attended a First Baptist Church.” He shakes his head and laughs.
“Hence vacation Bible school,” I laugh too and look back at the Bible on the floor. Picking it up and flipping to the first page I freeze as I see my mother’s name. How have I not noticed this before? It was my mother’s Bible. It must be one of the few things he still has of hers.
“Your mother was breathtaking. She had beautiful long hair like yours, except hers was sunny blonde and glistened in the sunlight. She made my young teenage heart throb and if I am honest, I chased after her for less than noble reasons,” he says with a slow grin not looking at me.
“Dad, I’ve had sex before you can just say you wanted to screw her.”
He frowns, quickly looking up at me and shuttering. “Let’s just agree never to talk about your sex life okay because I don’t know that my tired heart can take any more trauma.”
I have to laugh, the idea of me having sex being traumatic for him is hysterical. “Go on,” I encourage enjoying his smile when he talks about mom. “Mom was hot. You wanted to do her, blah blah blah. You were weak.” I wave my hand.
“Yes,” he says looking over at me a little uncomfortable than looking back at the ground again. “She asked me to go to church with her one completely random day in school. I laughed out loud. What the hell would a guy like me be doing in a chapel? It didn’t make any sense, but I didn’t completely turn her down. I told her that if she kissed me I would go anywhere with her. Initially she was hesitant. Your grandparents were very religious, and honestly I think your mom was convinced kissing would get her pregnant. But she decided that saving my soul was worth the risk.” He smiles softly his eyes growing distant and a little sad but with happiness at the edges before saying, “She kissed me right under the school bleachers. My life changed forever that day. From that day on we were inseparable. And even though life at home was shit your mother made everything bearable. We spent the next two years of high school glued at the hip, and when your grandparents found out that she and I were together, they threatened to kick her out. We were 16 years old and knew absolutely nothing about life other than we wanted to spend it together. And she chose me,” he says, his eyes glassing over. “She chose me over her family, and they kicked her out.”
“Wow,” I whisper unsure how to feel about the revelation. So did you both stay with your dad?” I ask. Uncertain and wondering how the whole thing could’ve worked out.
“God no,” he laughs without humor. “We lived in my car.”
“You lived in your car?”
“Yup. It was a different time…” he hesitates unsure of how to proceed. “The world wasn’t always like this Lucy. If teenagers lived in cars, at least in this part of the world, it wasn’t as big of a deal. I got your mother pregnant in the back of that car at sixteen. I was terrified. I had no idea how I was going to even attempt to be a father. I never knew a good father and honestly your mother didn’t either. Our parents were extreme they were just extreme in different ways. Mine was extremely abusive and your mothers were dismissive and emotionally neglectful with highly impossible standards for her.” He looks so down his shoes. “I told your mother I was scared, and you know what she said?” he asks, looking up at me.
“No,” I whisper not sure at all.
“What do you say when you find out your pregnant in high school and you’re homeless? She told me that she trusted me. No one had ever trusted me before so that really struck a chord with me. And I knew that because she believed in me that I could be whatever I have to be to take care of my family. Her faith in me was so great that I knew it was impossible to fail. I got my act together immediately and I went to trade school,” he adds, wiping his sweating hands on his worn jeans.
“I am a mechanic by trade,” he tells me glancing up at me again. “Though you have probably very few memories of me working on cars.” He swallows hard, looking guilty as he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “After your mother died it was more than I could bear. She was the light of my life, and everything she was, made me a better man. After I lost her, I lost myself. I should’ve been there for you girls. I should have really tried. I mean I have tried,” he adds, “all of my mistakes have been to help you guys in some way. I began dealing drugs because there’s more money in it than working on cars. I know it doesn’t look like I have much, but I do have a small fortune set aside. I was planning to pay for everyone’s college, weddings whatever,” he says gesturing towards the window as if Abbie is sitting outside. “But I got ahead of myself. I got greedy and mean. I thought that I was on top of the world and no one could touch me. Not even your boyfriend,” he says rolling his eyes.
“So, when I was finally arrested it was a real shock for me. I felt untouchable even though I never actually did drugs. I felt a kind o
f high from being near them, but I was still able to resist the thing that made my father a terrible person. And I rationalized dealing the terrible stuff to the world because I told myself that I was doing it to help my family, even if I was doing it to help me too.”
Rising from the floor I go to the rusty sink to grab a glass of water to bring to my father. I never thought that I would hear revelations like these when I came here this morning. I didn’t know about his horrific past, what a huge impact my mother was, and I never understood why he chose the lifestyle that he did. It never made sense to me because why would he risk everything for something with such high stakes? Now I know. he really did seek out to support our family, and really felt stronger having been able to resist what made his father into such a fucking cunt I think darkly.
“Dad,” I call back at him, “Where his grandpa?”
“Which one?”
“Both.”
I walk over and hand him the glass of water.
“Your mom’s parents moved shortly after they found out that we were expecting Abbie. She was a huge surprise for them and a major disappointment.” Shaking his head, he glares at the floor. The idea that my sister Abbie could be a mistake or a disappointment in someone’s eyes is mind-boggling to me. “They were so ashamed that their daughter was living like a hooligan and homeless in a car, with someone as lousy as me,” he says.
“They couldn’t believe that she would have the gall to get pregnant and humiliate them that way. As devout Christians, on the crazy side, it was just too much for them. So they left. I have no idea where they are. I haven’t bothered to look for them and I would caution you against that,” he advises, glancing back at me.
Nodding slowly, I frown at my own glass of water.