Hopeless (Hopeless #1)(92)
I can feel her touch his hand when he talks to her. “Tired,” she says. “I’ve been up all night with her.”
He stands up and lifts her hand until she stands up, too. I watch him wrap his arms around her and hug her, then he kisses her on the cheek. “I’ll take it from here,” he says, running his hand down her hair. “You go get some rest, okay?”
My mommy nods and kisses him again, then walks out of the room. My daddy walks around the bed and he lies in the same spot my mommy was laying in. He wraps his arms around me just like she did, and he starts singing me his favorite song. He says it’s his favorite song, because it’s about me.
“I’ve lost a lot in my long life.
Yes, I’ve seen pain and I’ve seen strife.
But I’ll never give up; I’ll never let go.
Because I’ll always have my ray of hope.”
I smile, even though I don’t feel good. My daddy keeps singing to me until I close my eyes and fall asleep…
Monday, October 29th, 2012 4:57 p.m.
It’s the first memory I’ve had before all of the bad stuff took over. My only memory from before my mother died. I still don’t remember what she looked like. The memory was more of a blur, but I remembered how I felt. I loved them. Both of them.
My father looks up at me now, his face completely awash in sorrow. I stand up and Holder tries to take my arm, so I look down at him and shake my head. “It’s okay,” I assure him. He nods and reluctantly releases me, allowing me to walk toward my father. When I reach him, I kneel down on the floor in front of him, looking up into eyes full of regret. Being this close to him is causing my body to tense and the anger in my heart to build, but I know I have to do this if I want him to give me the answers I need. He needs to believe I’m sympathizing with him.
“I was sick,” I say, calmly. “My mother and I…we were in my bed and you came home from work. She had been up with me all night and she was tired, so you told her to go get some rest.”
A tear rolls down my father’s cheek and he nods, but barely.
“You held me that night like a father is supposed to hold his daughter. And you sang to me. I remember you used to sing a song to me about your ray of hope.” I wipe the tears out of my eyes and keep looking up at him. “Before my mother died…before you had to deal with that heartache …you didn’t always do those things to me, did you?”
He shakes his head and touches my face with his hand. “No, Hope. I loved you so much. I still do. I loved you and your mother more than life itself, but when she died...the best parts of me died right along with her.”
I fist my hands, recoiling slightly to the feel of his fingertips on my cheek. I push through, though, and somehow keep myself calm. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I say firmly. And I am sorry for him. I remember how much he loved my mother, and regardless of how he dealt with his grief, I can find it in me to wish he never had to experience her loss.
“I know you loved her. I remember. But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to find it in my heart to forgive you for what you did. I don’t know why whatever is inside of you is so different than what’s inside other people…to the point that you would allow yourself to do what you did to me. But despite the things you did to me, I know you love me. And as hard as it is to admit…I once loved you, too. I loved all the good parts of you.”
I stand up and take a step back, still looking into his eyes. “I know you aren’t all bad. I know that. But if you love me like you say you do…if you loved my mother at all…then you’ll do whatever you can to help me heal. You owe me that much. All I want is for you to be honest so I can leave here with some semblance of peace. That’s all I’m here for, okay? I just want peace.”
He’s sobbing now, nodding his head into his hands. I walk back to the couch and Holder wraps his arm tightly around me, still kneeling down next to me. Tremors are still wracking my body, so I wrap my arms around myself. Holder can feel what this is doing to me, so he slides his fingers down my arm until he finds my pinky, then wraps his around it. It’s an extremely small gesture, but he couldn’t have done anything more perfect to fill me with the sense of security that I need from him right now.
My father sighs heavily, then drops his hands. “When I first started drinking…it was only once. I did something to my little sister…but it was only one time.” He looks back up at me and his eyes are still full of shame. “It was years before I met your mother.”
My heart breaks at his brutal honesty, but it breaks even more that he somehow thinks it’s okay that it only happened once. I swallow the lump in my throat and continue my questions. “What about after me? Have you done it to anyone else since I was taken?”
His eyes dart back to the floor and the guilt in his demeanor is like a punch straight to my gut. I gasp, holding back the tears. “Who? How many?”
He shakes his head slightly. “There was just one more. I stopped drinking a few years ago and haven’t touched anyone since.” He looks back up at me, his eyes desperate and hopeful. “I swear. There were only three and they were at the lowest points of my life. When I’m sober, I’m able to control my urges. That’s why I don’t drink anymore.”
“Who was she?” I ask, wanting him to have to face the truth for just a few more minutes before I walk out of his life forever.