SAFE AND SOUND....IN THE ARMS OF MY FATHER
-Olana Peters
“I hate you!” I retorted, anger and hatred dripping from the tone of my voice, tears rushing down my flushed cheeks.
He just stared. Stared at me with those concerned brown eyes.... a perplexed look of hurt crossing them. The hurt, the pain, it all washed over him.
I slammed the door of my room on his face and collapsed to the ground on the other side. It was strange.... it seemed like just one wall was separating us. But deep down inside I knew there was much more to that. Rivers of immeasurable misunderstanding and resentment flowed between us, the current drifting us further and further apart, washing away all previous love and affection we’d had for each other.
My life was falling apart.
I pushed back a stray strand of hair behind my ears, wrapped my arms around my knees, burrowed my face into them, lay down on the floor and cried.
****
Now, four years later, nothing much had changed. I still remembered that day. And every time I think of it, I do what I did that day – bury my face in my knees and cry.
So here I was, a young teenager, matured over the years who still had one thing missing in her life – a father.
The tears sprang up as I lay on my bed, rifling through the pages of an old photo album. Today was the eve of my birthday, which I also shared with my dad, that is, until the last four years of my life. Now things had changed. I lived with my mother in a different town altogether. Not to forget my soon-to-be stepfather who my mother was dating. Dean was a nice guy – friendly, and in a lot of ways, he reminded me of my dad. However, no one was close to the man my father was. No one could replace him.
A tear rushed down my cheek as I gazed at a photo of Dad and me. I was in kindergarten then and I looked so happy to be in the arms of my father – the man who meant the world to me. Maybe refreshing fond old memories wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Dean just came in, poking his head around the door.
“Are you free?” he asked.
“Yes.” I answered, sitting up.
“Are you okay?” he asked, noticing my tears.
“No, I’m fine.” I said, wiping my eyes and walking towards him. “You wanted to talk to me?”
“Yeah,” he replied, walking me down to the ledge of our lawn.
We sat side by side, staring at the sky. I was in no mood to talk.
“That jacket, that yours?” he asked, pointing to my NBA jacket.
“That’s my dad’s. I wear it on days when I really miss him.” I said, keeping my gaze low, my voice cracking.
“You really miss your dad, don’t you?” he asked, putting an arm around me.
I nodded, fighting back tears. I don’t know why I did what I did next – I lay my head on his shoulders. He felt so warm, so comforting – just like my dad.
All these years of fighting and arguing had really tired me out. I needed a shoulder to cry on. I needed help. Now.
“You can tell me about it.” he said, looking down at me. I looked up and saw something in his eyes. It was a look of sincerity. He really cared for me. I had seen that look somewhere – I didn’t know where. And besides, I had always thought Dean looked familiar. What an odd coincidence.
I closed my eyes. This was the day my life came crashing down like a tower built out of a deck of cards. And there was nothing I could do about it. This was a painful trip down memory lane....
****
I stood in the hallway as I watched my mother – pretty as ever – deck herself in a beautiful mauve dress.
“Victor, I’m ready!” she called to my dad who was on the phone at the far end of the hall. Today was my mother’s birthday. And Dad was taking her out for lunch. My ITU surgeon dad – who hardly ever had time for us – was finally making my mum feel special. It seemed as if everything was perfect, straight out of a storybook. Little did I know that the next few minutes would change the course of my life entirely.
“I’m sorry, hon, we’ve got to cancel it. Jamie called. A patient just dropped in. I’ve gotta go to the hospital now.” Dad said, putting on his coat.
Dejection crossed my mother’s face.
“....What?” she asked in disbelief. “Victor, exactly how many outings have we cancelled because of your stupid work?”
That got Dad absolutely furious.
“People are dying! You call that stupid? Amy, I can’t believe it! You’re impossible!” he shouted, flaring.
“So total strangers are more important than me, aren’t they?” Mom said, tears streaming down her perfect Maybelline-lined eyes.
“Stop being a sissy!”
“Victor, I look after the whole household, take care of everything in your absence and this is how you treat me? Victor, it’s my birthday today!”
Mom looked terribly hurt.
“Shut up.”
“So why exactly do you go to the hospital so often, huh? To flirt with the nurses? Or worse still, are you having an affair?” Mom screamed.
Then Dad did the impossible. He slapped Mom.
In immediate reflex Mom’s hand reached up to her swollen cheek and she dropped to her knees, sobbing.
“Victor, your daughter is witness to this.” Were Mom’s last words to him. “It’s high time things are over between us.”
Dad just smirked and answered his phone, which was ringing.
“F**ck off, Jamie! I’m not coming! Tell Neil to do it!” he hollered. That was the first time I’d heard my dad use a swear word. Now when I think of it, it seems okay, but back then it hurt. A lot.
And that’s when I ran to my room, slamming the door hard.
And it was that selfsame day that Mom drove us over here. To start afresh. *Sigh*.
I hated my dad then. I thought it was all his fault. But now when I look back, I hold no grudge. I realised that life is this way, you can’t change it. Reality stings. You’ve got to face it. And that’s why my past comes back to haunt me every single day ever since.
****
“So that’s all there is to it.” I said, looking up at Dean’s face which was glowing in the dim moonlight. He looked a lot like Dad. My tears were rushing down so hard it looked like Angel Falls was coming down on my face.
Dean fished his handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed my moist eyes, pulling me closer towards him. It felt so good.
“So....” I said, trying to make conversation but the silence spoke for itself. I rolled up the sleeves of my jacket, hardly realising I was not supposed to do that.
“Alana! What are those??” Dean asked, shocked, holding my arms in his. He stared at them and I swear I saw a tear trickle down his cheek.
I just buried my face in his chest and cried, wetting his crisp white shirt.
The pain, anguish, anxiety, hurt, bitter resentment, misunderstanding....it was too overwhelming for me at that time. The only way I could transport myself to a different world was by cutting myself over and over again, letting the blood ooze out my sorrows. It didn’t hurt anymore, but the scars remained – both on my hands and on my heart.
“Those days were so difficult....” I said, amid sobs, “the best parts were when I’d wake up in the morning, and, for a few seconds, forget that anything was ever wrong, but then a constant hammer of pain would strike me.”
I cried harder. The next hour passed like that – with Dean stroking my hair and kissing my forehead.
“Alana?” he said, lifting my head.
“Huh?”
“Would it be okay on your part if I married your mother? Would you call me Dad?”
I stared at him. Was he crazy?
“No!” I shouted. “No one – no, not anyone – can take my father’s place!”
After I had cooled down, I realised it must’ve really hurt his feelings.
“I’m sorry...” I mumbled, redfaced.
“It’s alright.” he said. “It’s my fault. I’m really happy that you stood up for your father but I’m sad you couldn’t see through me....”
See through him? Was he some sort of looking glass?
But one question remained. “Why do you care for me so much?” I asked.
He laughed. “Because you’re like my daughter.” was his answer.
That’s when it struck me. I don’t know what it was. You know those times when you suddenly remember something and forget it just as soon as you remembered it? Well, that was one of those moments for me.
“Better go to bed. It’s late.” Dean said, holding my face in his hands.
I nodded, standing. It was 11:30 pm. I ran back to my room and cried myself to sleep.
****
The next day I woke up with a sore head and puffy eyes.
I walked downstairs to find my mom at the table with an elaborate spread.
“Happy birthday sweetheart!” she chirruped. Dean was by her side.
I pulled out a chair and sat there, my eyes heavy. Then it all came flooding back. And just like those memories of the previous night, the tears came flowing out.
I ran back up to my room, ignoring my mom’s concerned cries.
I lay down on my bed and fell asleep. I had the strangest dream ever. The dream started from the part when I had that sudden pang of realisation. Then I pictured Dean shave off his beard and remove his contacts. And, believe it or not – there stood my dad before me!
I woke up at that instant. I turned up my computer and scanned my dad’s files on Facebook. Sure enough, my dad was Dean. There was a message saying: “My dear Alana, if you ever come across this, please know that I tried and tried to convince you and regain your trust but just never succeeded. – Your loving Dad, a.k.a. Dean.”
My eyes welled up with tears. Dean was to leave this morning. Maybe it was too late. I darted out of my room, across the hall.
“Where’s Dean?” I asked, panting.
“Oh, he just left.” Mom answered sadly.
“Dad! Dad!” I cried, running out onto the porch barefoot.
Dean stopped in his tracks. He turned back, his eyes filled with awe and pride.
“I’m glad you finally understood.” he said, arms outstretched.
And I joyfully ran into them. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. All the anger and frustration of the last four years came out with that breath. I had found my way. I knew, at last, that I was safe and sound....in the arms of my father.