Page 20 of When Hearts Collide

So, I had to be brave. I had to pretend everything was awesome, that I wasn’t sad or missing Mom like I’d missed an amputated limb.

When we had our first school dance earlier this year, and my friends were dress shopping with their moms, complaining how their moms wouldn’t let them buy this or that, I had to stifle the burning anger and aching sadness in my gut because I didn’t want any dress. I didn’t need the fancy shoes. I didn’t even want to go to the dance.

I’d give anything just to have one more day with her. To feel her wrap her arms around me and tell me everything was fine because she was here.

I ended the essay saying school was pointless. Life was pathetic. The future was hopeless. This essay was ridiculous. For one insane moment, I didn’t want to pretend anymore. I didn’t want to be the good student, the perfect daughter, the sweet sister.

The fucking caregiver.

I. Just. Wanted. To. Be. Angry. He could give me an F on the paper for all I cared.

“Mr. Roberts, I-I wasn’t expecting—”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his pale hand, freckled with age spots, brushed the thick clump of gray hair on his head. “You thought you were going to get in trouble?”

Wordlessly, I nodded, still clutching the paper in disbelief.

He sat down next to me.

“My dad died in a boating accident when I was twenty years old.”

I squinted at him, trying to imagine a much younger Mr. Roberts.

He chuckled. “I know. It was when dinosaurs roamed the earth.”

I stifled a grin.

“He was fishing. It was something he loved to do whenever the opportunity came up. A few days home from school, summer vacation, a special Friday or two when he’d ‘call in sick’ for me.” He winked, fondness in his husky voice.

“But that day, it was a Saturday during Labor Day weekend. I had a barbecue to attend with my friends from college so I couldn’t go fishing with him. He went anyway. The weather suddenly became unpredictable, and his little boat capsized. He washed ashore two days later.”

Mr. Roberts’s voice was sullen, his pale blue eyes taking on a faraway glint, and for a moment, I could see the shadow of a young man who found out his father wasn’t coming home.

“I was devastated and angry at myself. I thought, if I went with him, perhaps I could’ve saved him. I was younger, stronger, a better swimmer.”

He glanced at me and gave me a sad smile. “A million what-ifs. I was mad at life, the world, everyone, and everything, even though I knew this was a freak accident. Even though I knew being upset wouldn’t change my reality. I thought, what was the point of everything if life…fate…whatever you wanted to call it, could suddenly turn you upside down?”

He turned to me, his voice raspy, and said, “What I’m trying to say is, and this took me years to come to terms with, as an adult no less, that we live life as best as we can, to prepare for a tomorrow that is uncertain. We put one step in front of another and go on this beautiful hike that will be full of ups and downs, rough patches, and smooth pathways. I’ve lived a long life, Millie, and yours is just beginning.”

Mr. Roberts covered his mouth as he coughed. “I’ve had a lot of rainy days, but also my share of sunny, beautiful ones. And while you may feel like everything is wrong with the world right now, that somehow, there’s no hope for the future, you’re still shaping your future, step-by-step, little-by-little. What you’re experiencing right now, including writing this essay, is part of creating and molding that future…your journey. This isn’t permanent, and if you continue to put one foot in front of the other and envision a tomorrow that’s different from what you’re going through right now, it’ll come to fruition.”

“But what if life continues to beat me down?” I whispered.

I didn’t know how long I could continue being strong for everyone around me.

“From what I read in this essay, young lady, you are strong. A fighter. You’re still standing, aren’t you? And that quote on top of the paper is from Abraham Lincoln. He, too, went through his share of traumas and became the president of the country. Put one step in front of the other, create your own destiny, your own future. And one day, you’ll look back and realize you’re already there.”

I got an A on the paper.

Then he’d make it a habit to ask me how I was doing every day after class. He told me he wished there were family services or counseling available in our district, but our neighborhood wasn’t wealthy enough and the funding was cut a few years ago. So instead, he took it upon himself to be there for students in need.

Students like me.

He taught me to channel my anger and emotions into something more useful—reading, writing, gardening, a hobby to honor Mom’s memory. He told me he’d still go fishing on holidays, something he liked to do to honor his dad.

It was then I decided I wanted to become a teacher. Just like him. To make a difference to other girls out there who may feel life was hopeless. Then someday, I would work my way into policymaking and hopefully put back those much-needed family and counseling services in underserved school districts.

The paper crinkles in my hand as I re-read my hasty scribbles, the pencil marks almost faded over the years. I swallow the lump in my throat and expel a deep breath, trying my best to dislodge it.

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