Awakening

By Valerie

She climbed into bed with me that night—my mother. She had said she would be staying at a friend’s house if we needed her, but she had slipped back in later when she thought we were asleep. I remember the knock. May I come in? The unexpected request. I shrugged a sure-you-can-stay. What was I supposed to say? As she slid between the sheets, I remember how strange it felt to lie beside my mother. To pretend like this was some kind of mother-daughter slumber party. To pretend like the fight with dad hadn’t just happened.

He hadn’t known she would be there when he entered my room in the wee hours of morning, ready to head off to work as usual. With mom supposedly gone, he must have been coming to tell me to watch my brother. The door creaked as he entered. My eyes fluttered open to see him bending forward, reaching out his hand to jostle me awake. But it was her arm that he grabbed. It was in her ear that he whispered. I heard the strangled sob escape his throat as she turned over and he realized the mistake. As he fled the room, she simply rolled back over. I caught a glimpse of her face before she burrowed deeper into the pillow; her eyes revealed the pain she knew she was causing him—but she had nothing left to give.

I’m not sure what made me follow him. I had never really liked my dad. He set outrageous rules without explanations, worked constantly, and expected everyone to shut up while he watched the 6 o’clock news. Our meaningful conversations were scarce. How can you share anything of personal value with a stranger? It would be several months down the road before we would really talk to each other for the first time. When her goodbye would be absolute. When the house would be empty. When we would need something to fill the silence, something to fill the hole.

That morning I felt obligated as his daughter to go after him. I felt thrown in the middle. But mostly, I just felt sorry for him, because for the first time I was seeing him not as the workaholic tyrant of our home, but as a husband, a father, a person who had let everything that mattered slip through his calloused fingers.

I found him collapsed on the floor in the doorway to their bedroom. His sobs were like nothing I had heard before: deep, choking, uncontrollable gasps. I tentatively eased to the floor beside him and awkwardly wrapped my arms around his heaving body. Helplessly, he accepted my embrace. There were no words. All I knew for certain was that I was certain of nothing anymore.