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Growing up, we were poor, and I was just another expense draining money from his pocket. He never said a kind word to me and when he did decide to give me any attention at all, it came in the form of a backhanded slap across the face. And he hit me almost all the time, not just when I was in trouble. Shoot, he hit me whenever I walked too close to him.
And my mom…she never did much to make it stop. I mean, sometimes, she’d jump in if he went too far. Once, I spilled paint in the garage and paid for it with several fists to the face. That time, she broke it up, screaming, “You’re going to kill him!” But if he wasn’t actively pummeling me into unconsciousness, it was perfectly fine with her that my dad slapped me around from time to time.
I never asked to be born and I never asked to be his son.
Right now, I’m listening to my mother sob and my eyes are dry as the desert. I’m not sure how to feel about his death. I don’t know what to feel.
I know I hate him, but he’s not here anymore to hate. I feel empty about it…like an unanswered phone message that’s been deleted. I feel like there’s nothing there where there used to be something…something I never got to do anything about.
And I need to forget.
So I decide to drink.
“Jack,” my friend Harris calls from across the hallway. “We’re headed to the party. You coming?”
I think of Sarah. She’s probably at the party, too.
Either way, I just want to listen to loud music and forget my life, my childhood, and any tense moment I ever had with my father.
My father, who’s now gone forever.
Chapter Four
SARA
Ialwayscalledmymother ‘My Moonlight.’ The innate ability she possessed that turned every harsh, blunt, and edged thing into a soft, graceful, and safe haven always reminded me of how the moonlight, no matter where it fell, brought out a kind of beauty in each object exposed to it.
For her, everything appeared to be straightforward. Taking care of me, acting as a cook, a chauffeur, a babysitter, and a bodyguard all at the same time, all without breaking a sweat. Because she made everything seem so easy, I never imagined that being a parent would be a challenging job until I saw how hard she made it look.
But now, as I realize that I, too, might become a mother soon, everything seems so intimidating. Lying in front of me are a thousand different things I need to think about, a thousand different roles I need to play, and a thousand different questions I need to answer.
How am I going to deal with the added responsibilities that come along with having a child? If I become a mother, will I even have what it takes to be a good parent? What if I screw up royally and my child grows up to resent me?
And there is my career to think about.
I’ve worked alongside many women who were also mothers, and they’d made it seem effortless. How did they do that?
Well, they probably have another parent to share the responsibilities.
God, would Jack be there for me as well? Can I trust him? Despite all his honeyed words when I told him I was pregnant, his track record is spotty at best.
All this running through my head and I can’t even get the dishes together. The uncertainties just keep racing through my head like an electric current through a wire. When the clutter in my mind is so insurmountable, I can’t concentrate on the task of cleaning my apartment.
Jennie’s been calling me daily, chatting me up with the smallest of talk. It’s all just a ruse to make sure I’m okay. However, Jennie’s constant attempts at cheering me up and coming up with solutions to the current situation are doing very little to soothe the worry that has put a dent in my brain.
A little silver lining, if you can even call it that, is Jack’s compliant behavior throughout the whole scenario. I’ve been avoiding thinking about the fact that fate has entwined Jack and me in a much closer way now. No doubt, I will be seeing him a lot more often now, and not only that, he’ll be a permanent part of my life for the next eighteen-plus years. This thought is so daunting I’ve been acting as if it doesn’t even exist. I can deal with this issue later.
“Later” is always a comforting thought.
On the other hand, the fact that Jack already has a child gives me some degree of relief. The realization that he’s taken on the responsibility of single parent for the last four years removes some of the weight from my shoulders…but not all of it. I don’t know what kind of father he is, really…even if he says he is. I want to believe his story about straightening up when his son was born.
At least his resume is shiny, I think, with a smile.
Ironically, the thing causing me the most misery is also the thing that used to bring me the most joy – junk food. My stomach can’t handle certain foods. The taste or smell of pizza, burgers, chow mein, or anything slightly greasy causes me unbearable nausea. While other mothers get to have pickles and ice cream, I’m stuck eating rice cakes and veggies.
I have no choice but to eat healthy foods.
With all this on my mind, I just give up on cleaning altogether, instead choosing to watch television from my couch. Browsing through the channels, I put on some mindless reality TV show I don’t care about, hoping the brainless content will numb my mind and ease my overthinking a little.
