The Words We Leave Unspoken(56)

“The truth is that the boat was leaving the dock every morning but your father wasn’t on it, not in the end anyway. He was a drunk, still is. He was always a good man though, Charlotte, always. In his heart, he had good intentions; I believe that. And he loved his girls. He loved you so much. But Lord knows, he loved the bottle too and in the end he couldn’t give it up. And he couldn’t risk hurting you. So he left.”

Flashes from the day he left cloud my vision. My mother yelling at my dad. She was angry, but she had tears in her eyes. My dad kneeling down and hugging me close, kissing my temple as he said, “I’m sorry, Charley,” in a voice so thick I hardly recognized it as my father’s. I didn’t understand at the time what it was he was apologizing for, but I remember that feeling in my gut, knowing that something bad was happening, something significant.

I can remember watching the screen door slam and then running after him, screaming, “Daddy, don’t leave. Take me with you. Don’t leave me, Daddy.” He kept me at arm’s length, holding me back while he threw his green canvas duffle bag into the cab of the truck and climbed inside. The sound of the ignition turning seemed to echo down the street, followed by the roar of the engine as he slowly pulled away from the curb. I ran as hard as my little legs would carry me, feeling certain that he would stop, that he would change his mind. I had never felt pain like that. The unbearable pain I felt inside, like someone was driving a hammer into my chest, when his truck finally disappeared at the end of our street. When I realized that he was gone.

And to think he left that day to spare me.

I finally turn to face my mother, my eyes are so blurry with tears that I can hardly see her face.

“But... why... why didn’t you tell me this before,” I cry. “Why did you shut us out? Why did you leave me too…” I choke out, now sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh, Charlotte, don’t you see?” she says as she reaches up and cups my cheek with her soft hand, wiping away my tears with the pad of her thumb. I can see the regret in her eyes and the pain even after all these years. “He left me... he left me too. I’m so sorry for all that time we lost. For not being there for you and your sister. I have to live with that every day. But I was broken. I’m not as strong as you and Gwen.” She drops her hand from my face and swipes at her eyes and nose and then looks me deep in the eye and says, “I brought you here so that maybe you can stop blaming me for everything, but more importantly, I want you to stop blaming yourself. You’re so good and so strong and you deserve to have love in your life. Do you hear me, Charlotte? You have so much love to give and you deserve to be loved.” She places her fingertips under my chin and gently lifts my face until I’m looking her directly in the eye and then drives her point straight into my heart, “Do you hear what I’m telling you?”

I nod through my tears and then she pulls me into her arms tightly and I go willingly, as I sob against her green cotton sweater.

“You and Gwen are my whole world. I’m so close to losing Gwen and I can’t lose you too, Charlotte. I can’t lose you,” she mumbles against my temple where her lips rest. A storm unleashes inside my soul, a fury of emotions, like each of my memories are being rewritten in fast-forward motion, leaving new imprints on my heart in their wake. I sob and find comfort in my mother’s embrace; a scene that I once yearned for but had long since given up on. We stay like this for a while, until my tears dry on my cheeks and my breath evens out. My mother releases me and I look out my window at my father once more before we leave. I so badly want to open the door, run across the street and confront him. A part of me wants to see the look on his face when he sees me, after all this time. Would he recognize me? Would it change anything, if he knew I was here? But the man I see is nearly a shell of the man I once knew and my heart can’t take any more disappointment.

As if reading my mind, my mother says, “He’s not your father anymore. He’s not the same man. You have to let him go.”

I take her words like a punch in the gut. I steal one last look, my heart filled with grief for a man whose soul may be dead but who is still very much alive. Such a contradiction between my head and my heart.





Chapter 32





Gwen


I sit on the edge of my bed, grateful to be home after spending several days in the hospital. I stare at the bathroom door that stands a mere ten feet from where I sit, but it might as well be miles because there is no way I can get there on my own. I have to pee. It seemed like such a simple task when I first sat up in bed, but apparently my body has other ideas. I know I should call for someone, for John, to help me but I just want to do something on my own, to not feel so helpless. The doctor said that I should have my strength back in a week or two, but I was hoping I was the exception and that it would take only a matter of days to feel like myself again or at least enough to use the bathroom on my own.

I stand on my feet slowly and attempt to take a step but my legs are shaking violently and the room begins to spin. I slide my back down the side of the mattress and as soon as my butt hits the floor with a subtle thud, I feel a release of warmth. I actually piss myself right on the floor of my bedroom. Before the mortification has time to seep in, there is a light knock on the door and then Charley’s face peeks in from the hallway.

Seeing her face while I’m sitting in my own pee because I can’t even go to the bathroom on my own, completely undoes me. I sob into my hands, unable to even look her in the eye.