Page 1 of Damnation
Prologue
I have a clear memory of my seventh birthday.
We had a party at our house for all of my school friends. While the other children were playing in the yard, I hung back. Alex smeared dirt on my nose, trying to make me laugh, but he didn’t succeed. The sun was setting and Mom called us in to blow out the candles; that’s when I started to protest. The guests were ready for cake, the living room was all set up for the highlight of the party.
But I wanted my father.
I didn’t care that Mom was there. And my grandparents. And all my classmates and my friends from the neighborhood. I wanted him.
He had promised me that he would be there, and he always kept his promises.
I remember asking Mom where he was, and she told me that a last-minute accident had him stuck at work, but he was on his way.
Then, that very moment, as if by magic, I heard the doorknob click, and my father’s shape appeared in the doorway.
My eyes lit up with joy, and then, with a toothy grin, I ran to him and jumped into his arms. The long curls that fell down my back swayed, and my father’s perfectly groomed beard rubbed my cheek as he peppered me with kisses, making me laugh out loud.
I was happy.
Dad hung his coat up on the rack in the entranceway and greetedMom with a kiss on the cheek and the rest of the guests with a warm smile as I played with his dark curls. I loved them so much. Then he made me get down and brought me over to the table. Only then did I allow my mother to bring out the cake—strictly pistachio flavored—and light the candles. I puffed out my cheeks and blew as hard as I could. And, with my eyes closed, I made a wish: that everything would stay just as it was.
***
The next day, my mother kept me out of the house all afternoon, distracting me with a trip to the playground, a candy binge, and a long nature walk. It was April, blue-sky’d and mild. When we got home, I saw that Dad was already waiting there for us. He picked me up and told me he had a surprise for me. I squealed with delight and inundated him with questions. He laughed; he laughedloudly. My inability to stifle my curiosity amused him. Mom watched us, looking a little bored as always.
Dad started climbing the stairs—my surprise was waiting for us in my room. He stopped in front of my closed door and set me down on the floor. He was shaking and his eyes were wet, so I wiped his tears away and reassured him, just like he did me whenever I was upset. He kissed me on the forehead and told me to count to three.
One…
Two…
Three…
He opened the door, and I was astounded. It was like a dream. I went in and walked around slowly, thinking that this couldn’t possibly be my room. My room had always been bare; I didn’t even have curtains. All I had was my wrought-iron bed and the wardrobe we got secondhand. The paint was peeling off the walls from moisture, and I had only plastic laundry baskets to serve as toy boxes.
The room before my eyes, however, looked like something out of a magazine. Walls the color of wisteria blossoms with clean white baseboards, a huge wardrobe, and a bed with a canopy, covered insoft toys. And there on the wall across from the door was a large bookcase.
I felt like a princess in her castle; I was so happy, I burst into tears.
Thanks to a recent promotion at work, my dad had been able to renovate my room and turn it into a masterpiece. He knelt down until he was eye to eye with me and asked if I liked my surprise. I nodded and hugged him so tightly. That evening, after eating dinner and playing with some of the birthday presents I had received, I ran upstairs to my window—my favorite place. I pulled aside my new curtain and let my mind wander as I watched the starry sky.
I loved looking out that window. I did it every evening when Dad came home from work and every morning when he left. I could see his car pulling into the driveway, and he knew I was already there, waiting for him. Every time, he raised his head and smiled up at me.
It became our private ritual, a ritual that should have lasted forever.
Instead, eight years later, I watched him walk down that driveway for the last time, two heavy suitcases in tow. He looked up at me, but he wasn’t smiling anymore.
It was the day he had decided to leave us.
To leave Mom.
To leave the house.
And to leave me.
Then he was gone.
Forever.
