Page 45 of After Him, There Was You
Carrying out the very thing I had been extremely adamant on not doing, I found myself standing in front of my dad’s hospital door. I wasn’t ready to enter his room, so I was just standing there.
Replaying the conversation I’d had with my little sister after I talked to Tara, was well worth it because I was finally able to get her to see things from my point of view.
The heavy and emotionally draining conversation took me reliving days of my childhood she didn’t have any recollection of to get her to stand in my shoes.
When I told her about his treatment of Janet and I and how he behaved during our youth, she understood and apologized for not being understanding from the beginning.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to fight my little sister, but I went from having an issue with her to having to face my issue with my dad.
Inhaling and exhaling several purposeful breaths was just what I needed to gather the courage to walk through the door.
“Hey, Dad,” I greeted, walking into the cold room. From the lack of physical warmth in the room, to the fact of me not necessarily wanting to be there, the feel of it all was exceptionally chilling.
“Hey. I’ve been waiting on you to stop by,” he confessed, slightly taking me by surprise.
“You have?”
“Yes, I have. What did you bring me?” he asked, searching me with his eyes as if he expected me to be holding something other than my purse.
“I didn’t bring anything aside from my presence which should be more than enough for you considering the dynamics of our relationship.”
“Eva don’t start with all of that,” he fussed, causing me to rear my head back in shock. “Jacquelyn told me I needed to talk to you, but let’s just leave the past in the past. Black folks don’t talk about stuff. We pray, go to church, and keep it moving.”
“I know you’re lying.” I said more to myself than to him.
“No, I’m not lying. It’s worked for generations, and if it’s not a broken tactic, there’s no need for us to try to fix it.”
“Mama was right. We do need to talk, Dad.”
“Good Lord you act just like your mama wanting to talk all of the damn time,” he hissed, rubbing his hand down his face in irritation, showing me he was still the ignorant bastard he was in my adolescence. “Talk, Eva. Go ahead and say whatever it is you have to say. Go ’head and get it off of your chest.”
“Daddy, why didn’t you love me?” I asked, taking a seat, doing my best to attain a comfortable position in the pleather chair I was forced to sit in for our visit.
“Who said I didn’t love you? I was there every day when you were growing up, that’s love,” he reasoned with an erroneous sense of pride.
“And you want the dad of the year award for that? You don’t know how many days I spent hating you. If I had a dollar for every single time I had to convince myself I didn’t detest you, I would never have to work another day in my life. Hell, my sons probably wouldn’t have to work either.”
“It doesn’t make any sense for you to have so much hostility toward me, Eva. You need to pray on that. Maybe you need to even see somebody because it can’t be good for you,” he advised like he gave a damn about my wellbeing. “Now, I may not have been the best father to you, but you don’t have the ground to hate me.”
“Do you remember my eighth birthday?”
“Eva—”
“Mama had requested off that day, and all I wanted was for her to cook fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Plus, I wanted an ice cream cake, a pink balloon, and a pink teddy bear,” I said, pulling the broken child in me out from hiding. On the average day I did my best to keep her from showing her brokenness, but I was going to let her show out today and in turn, I was going to give her the chance to heal. “When I went to school that morning, Mama told me everything I wanted would be waiting for me when I came home. You don’t know it, but I spent all day bragging to my friends about the setup I had waiting for me after school.”
“Eva—”
“No, let me have this!” I yelled, causing him to slightly jump. The nod he gave me, letting me know I could continue didn’t mean anything to me because I was going to say what I had to say regardless.
“When I got home, Mama told me she was waiting on you to come back with everything from the grocery store. We waited and waited and waited, and you never came. I cried myself to sleep that night, and when I woke up the next morning, I didn’t see anything on the counter aside from bags from the liquor store,” I cried, feeling fresh tears stream down my face. “You act like your being physically present was a gift, but if that’s what you call being there for me, you should have stayed the hell away from me.”
“I didn’t realize you remembered that,” he stated, holding his head down in shame.
It was the first time I’d ever seen him wear such an emotion, and it was enough to keep me cemented in shock, glued to my seat.
“Eva, I’ve had a problem with alcohol for years. It started long before your mother and I got together. When I first met Jacquelyn, I had a good job and I was doing my best to be sober, but I got fired not long after Janet was born. From there it seemed like I couldn’t find anyone who wanted to hire me. Eventually I stopped trying to find work, and I stopped caring altogether. That damn bottle has always had a hold on me. It’s always there when I need it. Honestly, drinking is really the only thing I’m good at. I hate that my love for liquor tainted the relationship I have with you. As a man, I feel less than hearing you say that you resented my presence in your life.”
I wanted to tell him his feelings were correct. He was much less than the definition of a good man in my eyes and I wanted him to know it. A part of me wanted to continue to yell my frustrations, and I wanted each one to hit heavier and lower than the one before, eventually breaking him down to the point of no return.
