Page 5 of The Reno
All my long-suppressed resentments came surging forward. I couldn’t help but think about how these nice, warm memories were mixed in with missed recitals and birthdays.
I scrunched my eyes closed, thinking of all those milestones he’d missed…
“How do you grieve someone who was a great dad until I was ten years old, then invisible for the other seventeen?” I whispered, glancing down at my notes.
A drop of liquid had landed on the page, smudging some of the black ink. I wanted to glance up to see what was leaking until I realised it was coming from my eyes. I touched my cheek, a bit in shock.
The church was silent, eerily silent.
“Sorry, that was an inside thought,” I tried to joke, but my voice broke.
I looked down at the front pew. Uncle Brian and Auntie Sandra had their hands clasped and brows furrowed. My cousin’s mouth was in a thin, straight line, uncharacteristically grave. My mum and Graham were trying to communicate with me through their eyes, their expressions saying wildly different things. I tried again to make words come out, but my chest was painful and my breath shallow.
One other recognisable face was a few rows back. Dark hair,eyes to match. The man from the car park, his quiet amusement replaced with pity. His eyebrows pinched together, his mouth downturned. He had a deeply pained expression like he was looking at a gravely injured animal without being able to save it.
And that was it.
The last straw.
“I’m sorry. I-I can’t do this,” I blurted out, stepping off the pulpit, walk-slash-running back into the back room of the church, locking it behind me and sliding down the door. I gasped deep breaths, like I’d been underwater for centuries, and tears rolled down my cheeks.
The same phrase was repeating in my head:
I’m such a fuck up.
I’m such a fuck up.
I’m such a fuck up.
ONE
Kat’s To-Do List
Milk
Bread
Cheese
Lunch?NO MORE PRET
