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Somehow, the journey seemed to double in length. When I finally arrived, the black Mercedes in the driveway startled me. Though the vehicle was familiar and I knew exactly who was driving it, its presence was still surprising. I mustered as much strength as possible, swiped away the tears that had fallen, and exited my truck. With my tote in hand, I tackled the walkway to reach the stairs. As I entered my door key, the door was pulled open from the other side.
Expecting to see my mother, I sighed, prepared to fall into her warm embrace. However, I was confronted with my father’s figure. His long, lean body stepped forward in my direction, forcing me to swallow the lump in my throat and attempt to collect myself. Nevertheless, my emotions prevailed. Not only for Milo, but for the moment. He continued forward until he’d passed me, turning back briefly to acknowledge me.
“Nature,” he spoke.
Looking over my shoulder, I tittered, “Dad.”
“Good to see you. Headed back to the hospital.”
Yet, your daughter is home with a face full of tears and growing belly that you’ve yet to acknowledge. Can’t the hospital wait?The words never surfaced. Instead, I watched as he took the small set of stairs, made his way to the driveway, and slid into his car moments later.
Good evening, baby.
What’s the matter?
What’s with the tears?
How many more weeks do we have before my grandson is here?
Looks like we’re getting ready to welcome Mason soon.
Are you okay?
How can I help?
Is there anything I can do?
How about we go get ice cream, Nature? Will that make it better?
Would you like to talk about it?
The plethora of remarks and questions that could’ve come from my father played in my head as I removed my key from the door and stepped into the house. I found my mother in the kitchen, plating sandwiches that I’m certain my father was too busy to grab on his way back to work. At the sight of me, her movements halted.
“Nature. Is everything okay?” she questioned with worry lines across her pretty face.
“I will be, Mom. Can I have one of those or two?” I pointed, referring to the sandwiches in her hand.
“Did you see your father?”
“As I always do. The question is does my father see me.”
“Oh, Nature, baby. Please cut him som—”
“Slack. I have, Mom. All of my life. At this point, let’s just be honest and call it what it is.”
“I’m sorry you feel this way.”
“Be sorry he treats me this way, not my feelings as the consequences.”
“Okay. I’m sorry that he’s the way that he is, Nature. But I don’t want to focus on him right now. I want to know why there are tears on my daughter’s face.”
I wiped the fresh ones, trying to clear my face completely. More fell. Slowly, uncontrollably.
“I just… I just need some rest, Mom. I had a shi—bad day.”
“Is everything okay with Mason?”
“Yes. Mason is fine. It’s Milo.”
