Page 73 of Losing the Rhythm

By the time I was done with the word vomit, I was breathing heavily, tears making my vision blurry as I tried to glare down at the man who was my father.

He just gaped up at me with big eyes, completely speechless.

After saying so much in so little time, I was speechless as well. Numb too.

I licked my lips, my mouth feeling too dry. “Please leave,” I said. “I need some space.”

“Cadence…”

I shook my head. “No, Dad. Just leave me alone for today. I’ll call you sometime.”

Dad looked down, before standing up and making his way to the front door. He turned back to me, his own eyes looking a bit watery. Was he about to cry too?

“I do want to talk to you more,” he said. “Please reach out to me. I’m here.”

“A little too late,” I said.

Dad looked like he got punched with the way he reeled and his face paled. He swallowed hard before clearing his throat. “Call me.” Then he slipped out of the house, none the wiser that he’d just tossed my world into more chaos than it already was.

Chapter Twenty-two

As soon as my therapy session started, I blurted out, “My dad is in town.”

Dr. Arason had been about to say something, but instead her mouth closed as her eyebrows rose. I gave her a moment with that little bomb, knowing she probably wasn’t sure what to do with that.

“If I remember correctly, he left when you were ten, and without any contact?”

“Yeah.”

“What led to him returning?”

“A letter. Apparently, he’d been sending me letters, but Lindie kept them away from me. And since she isn’t around and I moved, his most recent letter was forwarded to my new address. I replied. And he showed up.”

“Tell me about him. What kind of relationship did you have with him growing up?”

I settled deeper into my seat, not really sure what to tell her.

She must have sensed my hesitation because she asked, “What was his job?”

“He was a landscape photographer. Traveled a lot to go on hikes and whatnot to get photos of different skylines and wildlife. Before that though, he used to be a musician. I think that was how we were able to connect. He had a deep love for music and it rubbed off on me. When he was around, he taught me how to play the guitar and piano. And eventually it led to competitions and concerts. He was always the one supporting me at those.”

“And your mother?”

I pressed my lips together.

“I’m only trying to get a better sense of your family dynamics as a child and how it all changed to lead to how it is today.”

“Right.” Made sense. “Lindie adored my dad. When he was around, we were able to pretend we were a nice happy family. She paid attention to me then because dad expected that of her and she didn’t want to upset him. But when he wasn’t around…” I trailed off, trying to find the right words.

“Did she abuse you as a child?” Dr. Arason asked gently.

I shook my head. “She never hit me until after he left. She was just absent when he wasn’t around.”

“While neglect isn’t exactly abuse as we recognize it, it is still a form of trauma.”

I blinked as I stared at her.

She waited to see how I’d respond and when I didn’t, she continued. “If she was absent in your childhood, she failed as a parent to take the actions necessary to provide you with the minimum. Things like food, clothing, shelter. Medical care. Even emotional stability and growth. It’s broken down even further into physical neglect, educational neglect, emotional neglect, and medical neglect. As a child, it’s traumatizing. The stress you’re put under is the same kind of stress that can occur as if you were physically threatened. And you said that she acted like she should have when your dad was around, but his job required him to travel a lot, correct?”

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