Beloved (Toni Morrison Trilogy #1)(77)
I’ll start at the beginning. When I left that day, you broke me. Your tears ripped through my heart. The pain of having to pry you off my leg destroyed me. Having you beg and promise to be good … I can’t describe my emotions because there aren’t enough words to do so. You couldn’t have been any better—you were already perfect. I didn’t know how I was going to walk away. The agony was almost more than I could bear. At first, it was easier to stay away than imagine having to watch you hurt every time I had to leave. You were my world, Catherine. You gave me something I never knew I was missing. When you were born, you stole my heart. Then your mother and I realized it wasn’t working, and I had to make a choice. That choice changed the rest of our lives. After I walked out the door that day, I knew I could never do it again. I couldn’t walk away from you. Your tears, your hurt—they were caused by me that day and I’ve never forgiven myself for it. If I close my eyes, I can still see the anguish on your face. I can hear your pleas as if I’m right back there again. That does something to a man. When he sees the face of his daughter breaking, it forever changes him. I’m not excusing my absence because there is no excuse. I stayed away because I couldn’t see that again. I didn’t want cause you any more pain. I regretted that decision every birthday, every Christmas, every holiday, and every event that you’ve ever attended that I missed. A father I was not. A man I was not. Because I was too scared.
I want you to know I did follow you. I went to your dance recital when you were thirteen—you were an amazing swan. You were breathtaking in your prom dress—your date was a lucky guy. I attended your high school graduation. You looked beautiful—I was so proud. Standing in the back as they called your name, I realized how wrong I’d been. You, Catherine, deserved more. You should’ve had a father who was sitting in the front row, clapping for his daughter, not cowering in the back of the room. At that moment my shame and self-loathing was never clearer. I didn’t deserve you. Which is why I continued to stay away after that. You were doing so well without me. If I came back into your life again, it would only confuse you. I’d already done enough of that.
When I was diagnosed with cancer, I started to re-evaluate my choices. I spent days in the hospital alone, contemplating how stupid I was. I couldn’t call you and ask you to be there for me. I’d never been there for you. I wouldn’t expect it and I couldn’t ask you to do it—it was my penance. I still don’t know if things would have been different, but please know I’m sorry, Catherine. More than I can ever fully express. I am so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t the man you needed. I can only hope that as you read this you see that I loved you. One day you’ll marry and he won’t be good enough for you, because you, my daughter, deserve nothing less than perfection. I hope that he will love you with his whole heart and not make the same mistakes I did. I hope he’ll show you every day just how special you are. I hope he’ll be the father to your children I was never able to be to you. He should fight every day to show you how worth it you are. There will come a time it will get tough, but if you truly love each other, you’ll find your way.
If you’re still reading this, I want you to know that I’m looking down on you and smiling at the woman you’ve become. I wish I could turn back the hands of time, but I can’t. I can’t take all the hurt away, but I hope you understand that it was me. It was never you. I’m sorry. I want you to know the last person I’ll think about when my time is up, is you. Every time the sun shines down upon you, I hope you’ll think of me keeping the gray skies away. I love you, Catherine.
Love,
Your Father
It’s too much and yet not enough. I place the letter down, lie on the cold floor, and cry myself to sleep, hoping for blackness to take hold. But there’s no darkness, no absolution from the pain.
Even in my sleep I can’t escape it. My dreams shift and change, haunting me with what I never had but always wanted. I wake up feeling nauseous, my headache now a throbbing migraine. Crying yourself dry of tears will do that. I glimpse at the clock. It’s only nine thirty. Sheer emotional and physical exhaustion is all I register. I hate that I couldn’t even sleep past midnight. At least then this horrific day would’ve been over. It’s seriously the day that’s never going to end.
Shaking my head, I try to clear the remnants of my bad dream involving Jackson, Neil, and my father. I grab the letter and my phone and head into my bedroom. Grasping my father’s farewell, I curl myself around my pillow and text Ashton that I need her before passing out, letter and phone still in hand.
When I wake up, I roll over and hold back a yelp when I realize someone is in my bed. For a moment I allow myself a sliver of hope that Jackson came back, but when I see the deep crimson hair, I know it’s Ash. She must have come home and crawled into bed with me knowing something happened.
“Ash,” my voice croaks as I wake her.
She groans and turns over, facing me and opening one eye. “Morning, lover.”
It’s as if I’m back to how I felt five months ago all over again. My lip quivers as the agony of last night returns full force. “Ash …”
She pulls me into her arms and rubs my back. “Shhh, Cat. It’ll be okay. Tell me what happened.”
We sit and talk, going over the previous day’s events. She listens and offers support, never saying more than a few words or pulling me back into a hug. I show her the letter and Ashton sobs as she reads the words my father wrote. Her pain is my pain and my pain is hers. We’re like sisters—she knows how much this means to me. There are no secrets between us. She’s fully aware of how hard my childhood was.