The
week has grown impossible; the stocks have taken a hit and Eric has only been a
burden on the load of work I've been forced to do. As I stand up from my bed, I
look at my aging body. Analyzing the figure in the mirror, I notice the skin from
the corner of my eye folding over. Scratching my back, I rustle my way to the
bathroom and unconsciously start recalling the worries that seemed to have
woken me from my sleep. I stare at myself again in the mirror and look at the
bottles of pills stacked on the counter. I grab one bottle, take two pills. I
grab the other, take one pill. I grab the third, take four pills. The cycle
that I take every single morning repeats, and my day starts again.
I kiss Eric
good-bye and drive to the firm. I sit down. Drink my coffee. Talk to Ed. Say hi
to Mary. Do some work. Eat lunch. Try to not fall asleep. Work a little bit
more. Say goodbye to Ed. Say goodbye to Mary. Get in my car.
As the constant
purr of the motor drowns the constant worry circulating in my mind, I finally
think on what I would do when I would get home. Eric would probably be watching
TV by now and the dinner would not be ready; the laundry would probably have to
be done. The door to the house swings smoothly open as I place my black dress shoe in
the cleared entryway and with the silent slam, I hear the roar of the creaky
garage door close its gape. I look at my watch, 5 30. So much was still left to
do. As I scanned the spacey kitchen and the modern living room my eyes passes that of my loving partner Eric and yet another figure too familiar to my eyes. His
hunched yet broad back still held the strength that characterized his being.
My heart skipped a beat as I looked into my
father’s eyes; they were glazed and his open arms only spoke of putting more
weight on my shoulders. I had so much left to do.
“What’s
the matter?”(7) he asked. I stepped back and looked into his face; they wandered
away from my eyes and stared to the floor, in thought.
“You
actually came,”(7) I said, shocked. His
face looked at me in recognition, but automatically his face stiffened. He
said, “ I've invented a new bicycle.”(7) My father, the man I had presumed dead,
sees me for the first time in four years and all he can do is act the same way,
be the same crazy man, be the same empty careless being I had to call a father.
All I can do is rest my head on my husband’s shoulder and breath in his
familiar sent.
”It’s
going to have a self-charging battery,”(7) dad states.
…
I
take a fresh step out of the shower and breath in the moist air of my cleansed
essence. The stiff air clears and my brain defogs with the mirrors; my dad is
in my house and his condition has only worsened. I look back at the jar of
pills on the bathroom counter and sigh.
My heart races as I recall the events of my childhood and my shirt
slowly slides over my torso covering the internal pains that persists in my
chest. I walk out of the bathroom as the steam seeps into the atmosphere. The
door rings. I walk to the door as my dad shouts, “That’ll be for me!”(8).
“What’s
this?”(8) I inquire irritated.
“We’re
celebrating! There’s a new project in the pipeline,”(8) he says with misty eyes
handing me the bill in unity. I glare at the four number integer and recall my
mother and my childhood.
“This
is twelve hundred dollars. We’re not buying it.”(8) A burden. Memories, past
pains, present pains, future pains all seemed to participate in my life then.
My chest inflated as I watched my father walk out the front door. I turn around
to Eric and whisper, “What am I going to do?”(8)
He
walks back into the room with a bottle of champagne and grin on his face that
persisted as he analyzing my stance ignoring the awkward situation.
“Why
don’t we have some champagne?” Eric interjected. “You two can talk this over at
dinner.”(9)
