Page 54 of The Game She Hates

Aunt Melissa quickly interrupts. “Please call me Mel. Everyone does. I’d love it even more if you called me Aunt Mel, like this one here.” She points to me.

“No problem, Aunt Mel. I don’t have a lot of family, and I’d never pass up such an opportunity,” Pearl replies easily.

“Well, the pleasure is mine. I never had kids, and I’m too much for Zane, so we’re a perfect match.” Aunt Mel chuckles as she leads Pearl inside.

We step into the living room that smells exactly like I remember—spicy notes of cinnamon and nutmeg. I immediately see Dad sitting in the living room on the love seat near the entranceway.

Surprisingly, the feeling I have when I see him isn’t what I expected. There’s no rage, no anger brewing up inside me, no churning in my stomach. Instead, my heart feels expanded in my chest, and a gulp in my throat struggles to find release. I feel a small hand in mine, reminding me to breathe and not succumb to this strange emotion.

When I step on the carpet to take a seat, he remains seated and doesn’t stand to greet me. I’m glad because I can’t recall how I ever greeted him when I was young.

As a teenager, I didn’t even bother acknowledging his presence in a room. But when I was a kid, I held onto the hope that things would improve if I showed him how well-behaved and perfect I could be. I tried so hard back then, thinking he would eventually like me.

We all sit down, and Aunt Melissa asks if we want anything to drink. My hunger and thirst are barely registering—I can’t name anything—but Pearl asks a Sprite for me and a water for herself.

She knows me so well.

And she loves me.

Whatever happens in this living room isn’t going to ruin the day the love of my life told me she loves me too.

“You look good, Zane. Thanks for coming,” Dad says.

And he looks good too. Prison time has definitely made him look sober and in the best shape I’ve ever seen him in. But I say nothing. How can I compliment the man? I’m not angry like I thought, but I’m also not happy to be here.

“I’m just going to go ahead and say what I’ve been waiting to tell you for the past decade. And if your girlfriend—”

“Pearl, and she’s staying here with me,” I interrupt.

“Yeah, I was going to say if Pearl wants to be here for it, she’s welcome to,” he finishes the sentence in his rumbling voice.

“I’ve spent every day of these ten years reflecting on the man I was, on the father I failed to be. Being locked away forced me to confront the demons that led me to ruin your childhood and damage your life.

“I want you to know that the man who walked into that prison cell is not the same man standing before you now, and not because I’ve done lots of soul-searching and I decided to change my ways, but because Jesus Christ entered my life.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me like He did. I didn’t deserve His forgiveness, and I don’t deserve yours either. I know apologies alone aren’t enough. They can’t erase the pain or make up for lost time. But I want you to know that I am sorry. If I could go back…” A tear rolls down his cheek. “If I could go back, I’d change the perspective I had before you were born.”

“You knew you were going to be an awful dad even before I was born?” I manage to ask.

“Yes,” he mumbles, looking down. “When Alice was pregnant and having all sorts of health issues, they told her there was a risk she wouldn’t make it if she went through with the pregnancy. They wanted to try to save her but that meant losing you, and she would have none of it. She was resolute in her faith in God, thinking He could save both of you. Even if her prayers went unanswered, she was determined to see you through.” Tears started streaming down his face. “I resented you before you even arrived because of those agonizing months she endured. When the unthinkable occurred and she passed while you survived, my deepest fear became a harsh reality I faced every day by simply looking at you.” He covered his face with his hand, not wiping the tears but trying to hide how much it still hurts.

“Really, it wasn’t you that I was mad at. I was mad at everyone else—Alice’s determination, the doctors who couldn’t save her, and the God she placed her trust in. It’s no excuse, but alcohol became my refuge, the only thing that dulled the pain, and I clung to it faithfully.”

My heart feels like it’s exploding into a million pieces with this new information no one cared to give me before. My mom knew she probably wasn’t going to live?

Like Dad, I can’t comprehend her logic. Why did she think being motherless was better than not being born at all?

A thought that distinctly isn’t mine emerges in my mind, drawing a parallel with Jesus. He died for us so we may live. And that’s what my mom did. She gave me this life—a life that, though bitter in the beginning, has led me to the woman holding my hand, bravely fighting back tears to be strong for me.

Now, I can live this life with the assurance of salvation and the hope of seeing Mom in the next life.

For the first time, my eyes see Dad differently—not just as the source of my pain, but as someone who carried his own burdens. Despite his bad choices, I realize his suffering was genuine.

Something in me tells me Mom would love it very much if I stood up and wrapped my arms around Dad and told him I forgave him, and so I did.

35

Pearl Davis

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