Part
Five
Corine
began to cry and she told me, as best as she could, that our father had died. I flopped down on a bar stool at my kitchen counter. My fiance stared at me, waiting for a reaction, but nothing came out. I didn't cry or scream out in anger. I just sat there. I even nodded to him that everything was okay. I understood what she was saying. I knew what death was, but it still didn't hurt me.
Even as she told me how he died, it still didn't hurt. Corine, trembling so hard I could hear it through the phone, said he had been drinking and was on his way home. The train was making it's nightly run and some how dad didn't see it, or maybe he did. In typical fashion, the train didn't hit dad, dad hit the train.
Corine told me that hitting the train totaled his truck, but the impact wasn't bad enough to kill him. Our dad died from shock and fear. Any other person may have survived it, but because of years and years of drinking, smoking, and drugs, his heart was just too weak. My dad died in an emotional state that he had made my mother, siblings, and myself feel daily. His death was almost poetic.
A few days later I reluctantly flew back home. I stood in the airport at Wichita Falls anxiously waiting for Corrine to arrive. I didn't think I'd recognize her, but as soon as she walked through those revolving doors I knew exactly who she was. She was just as pretty as she was when she was a teenager, only now she had gained laugh lines.
It was a three hour drive from Wichita to Hope, and we spent that time wisely. We caught up on everything. She told me about her children and the schools they went to. She wasn't married and she said she never would. "I'm happy with distant baby daddies." she laughed. I told her about my career and life in Seattle. Mostly we talked about my future husband.
"Does he know about dad?" Corrine asked. "Or any of us?"
"Um..." I started.
"I already know the answer to that. I heard him say he didn't know you had a sister." said Corrine.
"I'm sorry. It's just...There are so many bad memories." I told her. "Not from you. Just...him." I couldn't even say the word, "dad."
"I get it. I hardly ever talked about either." Corrine answered, after a long pause. "Bastard." she said under her breath as tears began to roll down her face.
The rest of the drive was quiet and somber. We didn't talk much at all until we got back into Hope Falls. I thought it would look different after all these years. Maybe it'll be modernized and have some Internet cafes and some trendy shops. However, Hope Falls hadn't changed at all. It was still the same little Texas, tumble weed town it was when I left.
Mom and Pop hardware stores lined the main street, small family owned grocery stores and gas stations also stood lonely with barely any one inside shopping, and children rode their bikes freely in the street. People walking on the sidewalks would turn and wave as they heard Corrine's car coming down the old dusty road. It wasn't that they recognized us. That was just how country folk were. You could call them friendly, nosy, or both.
Corine drove to my mother's sister's house. She explained to me that mom was refusing to go back home because she was afraid dad's spirit would haunt her. She was staying with her sister from now on.
"That makes sense." I told Corrine with a small laugh as she pulled into the driveway of my aunts little cottage house.
I took a deep breath and forced myself out of the car. Before we could even knock or even get fully up the walk way, the door flung open. My mom stared through the screen door at me as if I were an alien. However, after a small moment, tears filled her eyes and she burst open the screen door and embraced me like never before. She wrapped her arms tight around me, so tight that I almost lost my breath. It felt good. She had never hugged me before.
"You look different." she quietly said, stepping away from our hug.
"You look good, ma." I told her.
I wasn't lying. Time had been kind to her. She was still as beautiful as I remembered. Only now she seemed calmer or maybe she was drained. I thought with my dad being gone she'd find happiness. She was, however, a distant sadness could be seen in her eyes.
"I never should have let him make you leave." she whispered. "I'm so sorry." she cried.
Corrine rushed to her side and comforted her. I did my best to join in and help her into the house. The smell of casseroles nearly knocked me back out. My aunt stood at the kitchen table trying desperately trying to organize all of the food people had brought. She looked back at me and grinned. Leaving her casseroles, she hurried over and hugged me. She even left red lipstick stain on my cheek from a sweet peck.
After wiping off the lipstick, I awkwardly sat beside my mom. She cupped my face in her hands and told me about how much I had changed. She only brought up dad once, but Corrine interrupted her.
"I already told her about what happened, ma." she quickly said, trying to prevent our mother from crying again.
Mom smiled and gave Corrine's hand a small squeeze.
"I should have known it would end like this. I never expected that man to leave this earth peacefully." said my mom.
Just then a man appeared in the door way. A bolt of fear struck me. The sun setting behind him made the man a dark, tall, looming shadow. For a second, he just stood there, staring through the door. Although I couldn't see his his face, I knew his form. It was him.
"Dad?" I uttered under what breath I had left.
"Luke, I thought I asked you to be back by 7." my mother hissed.
The man standing in the doorway wasn't my dad. It was my brother. My heart slowed down as he came through the door and became more visible.
"I'm here, ain't I?" Luke chuckled.
What a smart ass. He looked and acted just like dad. He was like an evil clone of him. The way he stood, how he talked to mom and Corrine, and how he addressed me was a perfect replica of dad.
"Hey." said Luke as he noticed me sitting next to mom.
"Hi." I said, trying to force myself not to stare.
Luke sat on the couch and turned the volume up on the television set. He hadn't change a bit. Our father would have been proud. Luke was just as big of an ass hole as he was. He had no respect and he made sure to pass that trait on to his only son.
That night I laid in bed for hours. I twisted and turned but nothing made me sleepy. I just wanted this ordeal to be over and done with. I wanted that bastard in the ground already, so that I could get back to my life.
When I was younger I could force myself to sleep, especially when my parents would be fighting. There was no use in trying to stop or break up the fight. Corrine and myself learned that the hard way. Dad would back hand us just as hard and even sometimes harder than he would mom. Sleeping through it was the only way to avoid getting hurt, but no tonight.
I smiled to myself when I thought of another way I would avoid the fighting. I climbed out of bed and got dressed. As quietly as possible, I opened the window in my aunts guest room and climbed out. Instead of going to the creek like I used to, I decided there was somewhere else I needed to go to more, home.
Like I had a million times before, I climb up the tree in the back yard of my old home. I could have gone through the front door, but the neighbors were out and I didn't want them to start asking questions. I used the branch that hung over the back porch and lowered myself on to its roof. Just as I thought, the lock on my window was still broke.
After climbing inside, an old smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke hit me. It was like the smell was forever stuck in the walls. You could literally smell the dysfunction in the air. Even the walls of my former home held evidence of the violence we grew up in. There were holes from my dad punching the wall and stains from when he would throw food and drinks. Almost every room looked the same, but something was definitely different. I could feel it and it wasn't the fact that my dad was gone.
As I walked down the stairs and peaked over the banister, my heart sank. The piano was gone. The one thing I wanted to see the most and thought about the most was missing. I hurried through every room searching for it, but it was nowhere to be found.
"Damn him!" I said, lowering myself to the floor.
I stared at myself in the mirror. It was the day of the funeral and I was trying to look as appropriate as possible, but I had never been to a funeral before. So, I simply threw on a black t shirt and a black skirt I had borrowed from Corrine. I almost put on a pair of sneakers so that my feet would be comfortable, but decided that would be rude. Instead, I put on some high heels and headed out the house. I just wanted the day to be over.
As it was still heavy on my mind, I asked my mother what happened to the piano as we drove to the chapel. I wasn't trying to bring anything bad up, but I had to know. Did he sell it? Did he lose a bet and have it taken away? What happened?
"When you left, about a week later, he came in drunk and destroyed it." mom told me.
I bit my lip trying not to call him the bad name I wanted to. Instead, I stared out the window and wished for time to move faster.
Even as she told me how he died, it still didn't hurt. Corine, trembling so hard I could hear it through the phone, said he had been drinking and was on his way home. The train was making it's nightly run and some how dad didn't see it, or maybe he did. In typical fashion, the train didn't hit dad, dad hit the train.
Corine told me that hitting the train totaled his truck, but the impact wasn't bad enough to kill him. Our dad died from shock and fear. Any other person may have survived it, but because of years and years of drinking, smoking, and drugs, his heart was just too weak. My dad died in an emotional state that he had made my mother, siblings, and myself feel daily. His death was almost poetic.
A few days later I reluctantly flew back home. I stood in the airport at Wichita Falls anxiously waiting for Corrine to arrive. I didn't think I'd recognize her, but as soon as she walked through those revolving doors I knew exactly who she was. She was just as pretty as she was when she was a teenager, only now she had gained laugh lines.
It was a three hour drive from Wichita to Hope, and we spent that time wisely. We caught up on everything. She told me about her children and the schools they went to. She wasn't married and she said she never would. "I'm happy with distant baby daddies." she laughed. I told her about my career and life in Seattle. Mostly we talked about my future husband.
"Does he know about dad?" Corrine asked. "Or any of us?"
"Um..." I started.
"I already know the answer to that. I heard him say he didn't know you had a sister." said Corrine.
"I'm sorry. It's just...There are so many bad memories." I told her. "Not from you. Just...him." I couldn't even say the word, "dad."
"I get it. I hardly ever talked about either." Corrine answered, after a long pause. "Bastard." she said under her breath as tears began to roll down her face.
The rest of the drive was quiet and somber. We didn't talk much at all until we got back into Hope Falls. I thought it would look different after all these years. Maybe it'll be modernized and have some Internet cafes and some trendy shops. However, Hope Falls hadn't changed at all. It was still the same little Texas, tumble weed town it was when I left.
Mom and Pop hardware stores lined the main street, small family owned grocery stores and gas stations also stood lonely with barely any one inside shopping, and children rode their bikes freely in the street. People walking on the sidewalks would turn and wave as they heard Corrine's car coming down the old dusty road. It wasn't that they recognized us. That was just how country folk were. You could call them friendly, nosy, or both.
Corine drove to my mother's sister's house. She explained to me that mom was refusing to go back home because she was afraid dad's spirit would haunt her. She was staying with her sister from now on.
"That makes sense." I told Corrine with a small laugh as she pulled into the driveway of my aunts little cottage house.
I took a deep breath and forced myself out of the car. Before we could even knock or even get fully up the walk way, the door flung open. My mom stared through the screen door at me as if I were an alien. However, after a small moment, tears filled her eyes and she burst open the screen door and embraced me like never before. She wrapped her arms tight around me, so tight that I almost lost my breath. It felt good. She had never hugged me before.
"You look different." she quietly said, stepping away from our hug.
"You look good, ma." I told her.
I wasn't lying. Time had been kind to her. She was still as beautiful as I remembered. Only now she seemed calmer or maybe she was drained. I thought with my dad being gone she'd find happiness. She was, however, a distant sadness could be seen in her eyes.
"I never should have let him make you leave." she whispered. "I'm so sorry." she cried.
Corrine rushed to her side and comforted her. I did my best to join in and help her into the house. The smell of casseroles nearly knocked me back out. My aunt stood at the kitchen table trying desperately trying to organize all of the food people had brought. She looked back at me and grinned. Leaving her casseroles, she hurried over and hugged me. She even left red lipstick stain on my cheek from a sweet peck.
After wiping off the lipstick, I awkwardly sat beside my mom. She cupped my face in her hands and told me about how much I had changed. She only brought up dad once, but Corrine interrupted her.
"I already told her about what happened, ma." she quickly said, trying to prevent our mother from crying again.
Mom smiled and gave Corrine's hand a small squeeze.
"I should have known it would end like this. I never expected that man to leave this earth peacefully." said my mom.
Just then a man appeared in the door way. A bolt of fear struck me. The sun setting behind him made the man a dark, tall, looming shadow. For a second, he just stood there, staring through the door. Although I couldn't see his his face, I knew his form. It was him.
"Dad?" I uttered under what breath I had left.
"Luke, I thought I asked you to be back by 7." my mother hissed.
The man standing in the doorway wasn't my dad. It was my brother. My heart slowed down as he came through the door and became more visible.
"I'm here, ain't I?" Luke chuckled.
What a smart ass. He looked and acted just like dad. He was like an evil clone of him. The way he stood, how he talked to mom and Corrine, and how he addressed me was a perfect replica of dad.
"Hey." said Luke as he noticed me sitting next to mom.
"Hi." I said, trying to force myself not to stare.
Luke sat on the couch and turned the volume up on the television set. He hadn't change a bit. Our father would have been proud. Luke was just as big of an ass hole as he was. He had no respect and he made sure to pass that trait on to his only son.
That night I laid in bed for hours. I twisted and turned but nothing made me sleepy. I just wanted this ordeal to be over and done with. I wanted that bastard in the ground already, so that I could get back to my life.
When I was younger I could force myself to sleep, especially when my parents would be fighting. There was no use in trying to stop or break up the fight. Corrine and myself learned that the hard way. Dad would back hand us just as hard and even sometimes harder than he would mom. Sleeping through it was the only way to avoid getting hurt, but no tonight.
I smiled to myself when I thought of another way I would avoid the fighting. I climbed out of bed and got dressed. As quietly as possible, I opened the window in my aunts guest room and climbed out. Instead of going to the creek like I used to, I decided there was somewhere else I needed to go to more, home.
Like I had a million times before, I climb up the tree in the back yard of my old home. I could have gone through the front door, but the neighbors were out and I didn't want them to start asking questions. I used the branch that hung over the back porch and lowered myself on to its roof. Just as I thought, the lock on my window was still broke.
After climbing inside, an old smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke hit me. It was like the smell was forever stuck in the walls. You could literally smell the dysfunction in the air. Even the walls of my former home held evidence of the violence we grew up in. There were holes from my dad punching the wall and stains from when he would throw food and drinks. Almost every room looked the same, but something was definitely different. I could feel it and it wasn't the fact that my dad was gone.
As I walked down the stairs and peaked over the banister, my heart sank. The piano was gone. The one thing I wanted to see the most and thought about the most was missing. I hurried through every room searching for it, but it was nowhere to be found.
"Damn him!" I said, lowering myself to the floor.
I stared at myself in the mirror. It was the day of the funeral and I was trying to look as appropriate as possible, but I had never been to a funeral before. So, I simply threw on a black t shirt and a black skirt I had borrowed from Corrine. I almost put on a pair of sneakers so that my feet would be comfortable, but decided that would be rude. Instead, I put on some high heels and headed out the house. I just wanted the day to be over.
As it was still heavy on my mind, I asked my mother what happened to the piano as we drove to the chapel. I wasn't trying to bring anything bad up, but I had to know. Did he sell it? Did he lose a bet and have it taken away? What happened?
"When you left, about a week later, he came in drunk and destroyed it." mom told me.
I bit my lip trying not to call him the bad name I wanted to. Instead, I stared out the window and wished for time to move faster.
"You
know Sammy, regardless of what you may think," my mother started. "Your daddy loved you. He loved all of you. That piano was a constant reminder of how he messed up." she said wiping a tear away. "I saved some of the
keys if you want a few."
My mother dug through her purse and pulled out a plastic bag full of broken, dirty keys. At the time, I wasn't sure why I did this, but I took two of the keys from her. I held on to them as tight as I could.
I didn't cry one time during the funeral. Mom and Corrine of course cried and I even saw Luke shed a tear. My eyes, however, were as dry as the desert. I was just numb. I couldn't tell if I was happy or having a nervous break down. Maybe I was being spiteful. Even in death, I was determined not to let him hurt me again.
After the service and a million hugs from people I hadn't seen in years, I decided to view my father's body, but only to flip him the bird one last time. Once everyone had left the chapel, I made my way over to the casket. It took a minute, but once I opened the heavy lid of the box that held my dad, I went into shock.
He looked fine. He wasn't mangled or horribly disfigured. He just looked like he was sleep. I figured mom chose to have a closed casket service because she couldn't bear to see him. I, however, did want to see him, but it didn't feel as good as I thought it would. I thought I'd be happy to see him gone, but just seeing him lying there took my breath away. I put my hand over my mouth as if I were going to scream. I wanted to scream. Tears drained from my eyes, nearly blinding me and making me inconsolable. I could barely stand on my own two feet.
On impulse or maybe me wanting comfort, I placed my hand on his. For the first time in my life, I cried for my dad, for him, not because of him. I didn't think I'd ever stop crying. He had caused so much pain, but through my tears a began smile formed on my face. Just then, I remembered the piano keys my mom had given me. I reached into my purse and pulled out one of the keys and held it in my hand.
Every memory of my father and I flashed through my head, but this time they were all good. It was as if God and my dad were working together to comfort me. My tears of grief turned to tears of joy. I thought of his laughter and the moments of pride he showed when I would learn something new from him. I thought of how I had traveled the world, met my future husband, and was able to be a bright and happy teacher for my students that I loved. Every good thing I have, was made possible by my drunk, abusive, mean, neglectful father and I couldn't have been more grateful.
"Thank you." I said, leaning closer to my dad. Now I understood why I took two keys from my mother. One was for me and the other was for him. I slid it under his hand, kissed his forehead, and closed the casket.
For years I felt that the keys he taught me how to play on were dirty. Not dirty with filth, but with words and actions. I play on clean keys now and it's all because of my dad. It was because of my dad that I left and when I left I found, a place where I was wanted, needed, and loved. I know my dad loved me in some way and I'm sorry I never got to realize or see that way until after he had died. Nothing could ever take back the pain, fear, and misery he caused. However, nothing could ever replace the life, love, and appreciation I now have. I never thought I'd say this but, "I'll love my father forever." I hope he's happy. He should be...
My mother dug through her purse and pulled out a plastic bag full of broken, dirty keys. At the time, I wasn't sure why I did this, but I took two of the keys from her. I held on to them as tight as I could.
I didn't cry one time during the funeral. Mom and Corrine of course cried and I even saw Luke shed a tear. My eyes, however, were as dry as the desert. I was just numb. I couldn't tell if I was happy or having a nervous break down. Maybe I was being spiteful. Even in death, I was determined not to let him hurt me again.
After the service and a million hugs from people I hadn't seen in years, I decided to view my father's body, but only to flip him the bird one last time. Once everyone had left the chapel, I made my way over to the casket. It took a minute, but once I opened the heavy lid of the box that held my dad, I went into shock.
He looked fine. He wasn't mangled or horribly disfigured. He just looked like he was sleep. I figured mom chose to have a closed casket service because she couldn't bear to see him. I, however, did want to see him, but it didn't feel as good as I thought it would. I thought I'd be happy to see him gone, but just seeing him lying there took my breath away. I put my hand over my mouth as if I were going to scream. I wanted to scream. Tears drained from my eyes, nearly blinding me and making me inconsolable. I could barely stand on my own two feet.
On impulse or maybe me wanting comfort, I placed my hand on his. For the first time in my life, I cried for my dad, for him, not because of him. I didn't think I'd ever stop crying. He had caused so much pain, but through my tears a began smile formed on my face. Just then, I remembered the piano keys my mom had given me. I reached into my purse and pulled out one of the keys and held it in my hand.
Every memory of my father and I flashed through my head, but this time they were all good. It was as if God and my dad were working together to comfort me. My tears of grief turned to tears of joy. I thought of his laughter and the moments of pride he showed when I would learn something new from him. I thought of how I had traveled the world, met my future husband, and was able to be a bright and happy teacher for my students that I loved. Every good thing I have, was made possible by my drunk, abusive, mean, neglectful father and I couldn't have been more grateful.
"Thank you." I said, leaning closer to my dad. Now I understood why I took two keys from my mother. One was for me and the other was for him. I slid it under his hand, kissed his forehead, and closed the casket.
For years I felt that the keys he taught me how to play on were dirty. Not dirty with filth, but with words and actions. I play on clean keys now and it's all because of my dad. It was because of my dad that I left and when I left I found, a place where I was wanted, needed, and loved. I know my dad loved me in some way and I'm sorry I never got to realize or see that way until after he had died. Nothing could ever take back the pain, fear, and misery he caused. However, nothing could ever replace the life, love, and appreciation I now have. I never thought I'd say this but, "I'll love my father forever." I hope he's happy. He should be...
Copyright © 2012 by April Thompson
All
rights reserved. No part of this writing may be used or reproduced in
any manner whatsoever without written permission from the Author.
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