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They walk out of the room. The door shuts behind them automatically.
In the corner is a bowl of water. I dive and angle it into my mouth. Swallowing after such a long drought feels heavenly.
For a prisoner, I’ve been treated about as expected, but it is not my constraint that fill me with hopelessness. It’s the other thing...
I have been gifted an impossible task. I never thought I’d get married. I never thought I’d have a child with someone, let alone one with three aliens.
Honestly, I never thought I’d fall in love.
It was never about the ex. He was fine. Ryan was “fine.” On paper, everyone was a knockout, straight out of the park.
But it was never about them.
There were things going inside me that I never let out. I was concerned with my future. I wanted to be the best I could be, like many of my colleagues.
Did I ever stop to ask myself why?
What approval did I need and from whom?
There is guilt that lies below the surface, and it’s only now that I’m feeling it. It’s raining down on me hard.
I should blame the brutality of these savages. I should hate them with my very being.
But I don’t.
Deep down, I think I hate myself for not acting freely all these years. For not spending time with the ones I really loved.
I’ve been self-quarantining myself for years, and the sadness has only just seemed to peak.
The guilt comes from my mother. Like I said, I didn’t have the best relationship with her. But it wasn’t always that bad.
When her and my father were together, it felt like the world was stable. If mom wasn’t the person to talk to, dad was.
He might’ve been the only one to understand my mom.
My dad grew up with nothing, and his parents all but abandoned him. But he found a career. He made a family with her. He became a father that would be celebrated.
Not many people can say they had a dad like that. But I could.
He was my hero.
Life doesn’t get easier like you think it might. A few years ago, my father was having some problems. Neurological. He started to lash out with his words, harshest at my mother.
The doctors said he couldn’t control it, that a brain tumor had started metastasize. I knew what that meant. They were going to have to operate.
It was a signal that we only had a few more days left with him.
I think we all knew that, mom, me, and the grandparents. However, we remained quiet and hopeful
during the surgery. It’s easier to admit it to yourself than to the ones who raised you.
At the time, it just seemed easier to keep it all down. You know, remain strong.
I tried and I tried, and I tried to hold it all down. I was the adult now, the one who had her shit together.
Once I saw the doctor exit those doors, I knew what he was going to tell me.
I’ll never forget his words. “Your father,” he said, stuttering. “I tried… I thought we could...”
