Page 11 of Sassy Surrogate
“Two hundred and fifty thousand.”
My eyes about bug out of my head at his words. Surely, I cannot have heard him correctly. Please, dear Lord, don’t let me have heard him correctly.
“Two hundred and fifty thousand rand?” I repeat slowly, shocked at the number, my voice barely above a whisper. “As in a quarter of a million?” He nods, still not looking me in the eye. “Are you out of your ever-loving mind? What the hell were you thinking? Never mind, don’t answer that. You weren’t. You never do,” I scream as rage churns in my gut.
I take a deep breath, trying to get my emotions under control. Then another. I’m so mad I’m sure I could plead temporary insanity if I follow through on my murderous thoughts of earlier. Not to mention freaked way out and panicking all at the same time. Not only has he dragged my mother and me into this mess, but he’s also cost me theonlychance I had at finding some kind of financial resolution to this insanity.
“Since you cost me my job today, how exactly are you expecting me to help you out?” Acid drips from every word. Not that I think it’ll have any effect. He’s far too oblivious, too self-absorbed for the sarcasm to register.
“What?” He stares at me, his expression incredulous. Like I did it on purpose. “What do you mean you lost your job?”
“I mean,” I enunciate it slowly, “I got fired today because you came to my place of employment, damaged company property, and caused a scene.”
A look of panic settles on his face, making him look much older than his sixty-one years. Creases wrinkle his forehead and bracket his mouth. He starts pacing back and forth, like a man on something, muttering to himself all the while. Out of the blue, he whirls to face me.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” he snarls.
“You should have thought about that before you behaved so reprehensibly.” He lifts his hand to slap me again, and I tighten my grip on the knife I’m still holding, brandishing it about in front of me. “You caught me once today. You won’t a second time. I will end you where you stand, old man, and I won’t even lose a moment’s sleep over it.”
My response is unexpected and enough to give him pause. An ugly expression on his face, he points a finger at me. “Don’t you threaten me, little girl.”
Hot anger burns through me. Knife still aimed at him, I step into his space. “Let me be crystal clear so you understand. That is in no way a threat. It is, in fact, a promise. I’m so over you getting yourself into these unholy messes and then expecting other people to dig you out of them.” I pause to catch my breath. It feels like I’ve been running a marathon I’m so mad.
“Sorry, Danica. I don’t mean nothing by it. I’m just stressed is all.”
“Quite frankly, I don’t care. I’m done with putting up with you talking to me like garbage, all the while expecting me to save you. More to the point, I’m done with you.”
I sigh, weary all the way to my soul. There is no way I can refuse to help him. Not for him, but for my mother.Shemeans everything to me, and it would kill me if anything were to happen to her because of my father’s stupidity. And I know for sure that the kind of people he’s involved with wouldn’t hesitate to make an example of her.
“Listen carefully. I will figure out a way to get the money. But when I tell you this is the absolute last time I will ever help you, I mean it isthe very last time. And next time you involve my mother will be the last time you ever, ever do anything again. I will simply kill you myself. Problem solved. Do you get me?”
He pales at my words. “Don’t say that. You don’t mean the things you’re saying.”
“Do not underestimate me. I mean every last word. I said it once, and now I’m saying it again – I am done with you and your bullshit. Once this is done, do not ever come looking for me. Never. As of today, you are nothing to me. In fact, as of today, you are dead to me. Leave a contact number where I can reach you, and then get the hell out of my house.”
My father opens his mouth to speak, then thinks better of it. Just as well, since I’ve reached my limit with him and am liable to do him bodily harm should he give me any more grief. I watch as he scribbles something on the paper I gave him. He stands looking at it for a long moment before, shoulders slumped, he turns for the back door.
Hand on the handle, he pauses. “I fucked up, Pookie. With you and your mother, I had a good life, and I threw it away through stupidity. I’m glad you grew up in your grandparents’ home with strong, principled people to guide you. You were always better off with them than you could ever have been with me in your life.”
Without another word, he opens the door and disappears. All I can do is stare in shock at the wooden panel he’s just closed quietly behind him. I can feel the burn of tears in my nose and at the back of my throat. Dropping the knife onto the counter with a clatter, I make my way over to the sofa.
Sinking down onto a cushion, I allow the misery of the day to overwhelm me again, letting the tears fall. A sob breaks free, loud in the silence of my small house. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt such despair. The agony of betrayal burns like acid, deep into my soul.
Not to mention the loss of my father. He may well still be alive and breathing, but the dream of him is dead. The adult in me is mourning the death of who I had hoped my father was, deep down inside. That there was still the possibility that he could change his gambling, lying, cheating ways. But as I sit here, sobbing like the world has ended, I understand that my father is more accepting of who he is than I ever have been.
He knows – and I guess owns?his shortcomings; something more of us should do.
When the tears finally stop, I’m too exhausted to do more than drag myself off to bed. I like to consider myself a strong person, but even I deserve a day to wallow in my misery every now and then.
Tomorrow is a new day, and I’ll need to pull myself together, then try to figure out a way to extract my mother from this mess. Powering my phone down again, I draw the blankets up around my ears and allow sleep to envelop me in its comforting embrace.
* * *
I
wonder if this is what a bear feels like after hibernating for the winter? If it is, it sucks. I’m groggy, and my throat is parched, probably from mouth-breathing while I slept. I’m just grateful I don’t drool. My eyes are puffy from crying, and the rat’s nest that currently parades as my hair would scare animals and small children. Thank God there’s no one around to bear witness to how rough I look.
A time check, jaw-popping yawn and stretch later, I roll out of bed to take care of business. It’s already well after midday; time to get up and face the day. I need to figure out what the hell I’m going to do to resolve this mess I find myself in. There’s no one to ride to my rescue.
