31st March, 20??
An Olive Branch.
Dear Dia,
I told myself that I wouldn't forgive him. That I would sooner die than fall for his pathetic pleas… again. I had built up strong formidable walls that his words wouldn't leave as much as a crack, talk more of penetration. But seeing him there, sitting on the edge of my bed, looking at me with those puppy dog eyes. Those autumn-brown eyes boring into mine, pleading, begging, screaming one word "Sorry!", I… I…
Why don't I take a few steps back and tell you how and why I found myself in such a heart-shattering situation.
It happened a few moments ago. Or more accurately put, some hours ago. It's only by a tiny thread that I'm even writing to you, Dia.
Today, as a Monday, started pretty much blissful. Considering the events of yesterday, I was practically walking on the clouds. I had awoken with a smile on my lips, an effect of the dream I had. Mom had visited my dreams like I had anticipated.
Can I even call it a visitation when the dream was more like a memory? It had been of that sunny day, dad had captured her basking in the sun. I had relived that memory, the laughter, the sun, our happiness just the three of us. It all came to me as I closed my eyes and I think it was on a loop cause it was all my night was about.
A moment was all it took…no, a knock and Henry's voice calling from the other side of the door,
"You know it's okay to get a few more hours of sleep after… um yesterday, but as the first day of school after your break. It would be advisable to be on time but… anyways, take your time– what do I even know about these things?"
"Oh crap! Shit! Fuck!" was all I could say as every trace of happiness fled from my mind. How could I have forgotten? My heart pounded as I tossed my sheets aside and dashed out of bed. Where do I even start? Clothes. My hair. Books. Assignments. Crap! Crap! Crap! I was anything but ready.
Suddenly, the room felt compressed, my heart– tight. I couldn't breathe, air wasn't entering my lungs. I opened my mouth and gulfed in air yet it wasn't enough. I was suffocating.
I was drowning… I was having a panic attack.
I closed my eyes, tried to take deep breaths but all that lay beyond my shut eyelids were the events of that day. My birthday. The day I disgraced myself in front of the whole school… possibly the whole town. I kept seeing the videos that had been uploaded on TikTok, Facebook, Twitter and other social platforms. It had trended for quite a while. People made memes and GIFs from it and, all this while I had allowed myself to forget.
How do I face them? Can I even stand it? Perhaps I shouldn't be that worried, after all Liam's visit had kindled the fire, but really, did it? Or did it fuel the whole thing? Because now even those who didn't know me before, sure knew me now. The insipid wallflower had bloomed in the brightest of suns. All eyes will be on me now, every step will be under scrutiny and any misstep may very well be the end of me.
Somehow I managed to crawl to my bedside drawer, retrieve mom's letter and force myself to focus on her words, on the curves and flow of her writing. It wasn't easy but as I dwelled on it, my heart slowed, my airways opened, my vision cleared, the world stopped tilting and the pounding in my ears... ceased.
When Henry came to remind me again, I told him that I wasn't going to make it because I wasn't feeling so well. All he said was,
"Um… that's fine. Should I call your dad? Do you need anything?... My silence was enough answer and he fell back.
I laid there, waiting for it. For dad to come stomping the stairs, to hear his bellows, but nothing happened. An hour passed, and I heard someone mounting the stairs. I didn't even wait to hear a knock before yelling,
"For fuck's sake Henry, just go away!. I have told you that I'm not feeling well and don't give me that crap about staying for me, cause we both know, I - don't - fucking - need - a - babysitter."
I had stressed the last sentence to exert my point but when I heard that deep tone that could only be dad's, I wondered if my day couldn't get any worse.
"Anna, it's me. Please open up."
" Go away, I don't want to talk to you."
" Please, my baby girl, let me just talk to you. I promise… just five minutes tops. After that you can go back to shutting me out."
Pressing the pillow to my ears, I tried to dismiss his pleas, but he was persistent, each plea more pitiful than the last. Yanking the door open, I ushered him in.
His movements were slow as he followed me to the bed where I sat, curled up as far away as the bed could offer. Taking the hint, he half-sat on the edge, looking everywhere but at me. I watched him take in every corner, mom's pictures, my pink curtains, the posters on the wall, everywhere. Then he rose and approached a picture. Taking the frame, he came back and sagged where he had once sat. The picture was of the three of us smiling broadly on the beach. That had been when I was eight.
In spite of myself, the memories came rushing back. The waves, the sun, the green-bluish tint of the water, the scoops of clouds, the soft sands, the sandcastle we built, how happy we were, it all came flooding in. I could tell that dad was remembering it all too by the smile spreading on his face and the tears glistening in his eyes.
"We were happy, weren't we?" He had started.
"You tell me, I don't seem to recall."
" Come on, don't be like that, you may be eight then, but I'm sure you remember." He said, still not looking at me.
"Don't tell me what I remember and what I don't, and if my memory serves me right, you were hardly around to claim to know me that well." I snapped at him, not giving a damn as he winced at my words.
"I know nothing I would say will be enough. No matter what I say, it won't make up for my absence, but you must understand, I loved your mom. Hell, I still do. She wasn't just my wife. She was so much more, a best friend and my soulmate… and I really wish you could remember the early days, those days before she fell ill. We were practically inseparable. Our love was as pure and clear as the famous blue lake of New Zealand. I know you want to say something, but please allow me to finish. I stayed away because your mom said so. She knew I couldn't handle seeing her like that, and she wanted me to be strong for you, but to do that I had to stay away, so I wouldn't shatter or… or appear weak before you. That's the thing about love; there isn't one way of feeling it, each love is unique. Ours was like that and perhaps one day when you have loved. You'll understand, but do you think I wanted to stay away, that I wanted… not to be there for you and her? It was what I wanted most, and it broke my heart that I couldn't. Even now, I still regret it. I still wish I could have stomached it… could've been there… done more even, but I didn't, and you have every right to hate me forever. I would understand, but for her sake, can you try to despise me less? Eh, my sweet jewel… "
It had taken a lot to keep my tongue on check. So much for me not to lace him with the venom hanging on the tip of my tongue. Time and time again, I tried to interrupt him, but his raised hands urged me to allow him to finish. His words had been going well till the 'sweet jewel' part. That was the dealbreaker as I lashed out,
"Oh no, you don't get to call me that. Not when you abandoned me, not after all you've put me through, the hunger strike, your silence and all the hell I had gone through. After mom's death, it felt like I lost both my parents that day. You just left me and retreated into your work, what of me who had nowhere and nothing to retreat to. You just dumped me with Grannys and left, then you spring me into this family, not bothering to care if it was what I wanted. You can't call me your jewel when your actions suggest that my lustre has dulled. And honestly, I don't think I can ever despise you less, so why don't you take your sorry ass out of my room!"
He just sat there unmoving, like I had described in the first paragraph, not even when I screamed,
" GET OUT!" did he get up.
When my sobs reduced, he said,
" Like I said earlier, I don't expect you to forgive me, but I had to tell you these things. Do you even know how much you look like her? How much of her, dwells in you? If not for the black hair, one would think I didn't play a part in making you. You look so much like her that it hurts to sometimes look at you. That's also one of the reasons I stayed away. You remind me so much of her. As for Felicia and Henry, I welcomed them because I thought they might help you since I couldn't… I was merely looking out for you, and before you lunge that pillow at me, I will go but know that I would do anything… just name it, to make it up to you. Perhaps you would like to think on it."
And with that, he left.
I cried my eyes out after that, and now I am trying to write to you, Dia. I wonder if I should forgive him? Should I take his olive branch? Like he said, if not for him, then for mom… but not yet. I can't simply forget the hell he put me through, even for you, mom. I hope you understand… I just can't.
I think I would hold him to his offer of making it up to me for the rest of his life and I already know where to start. I will stop our chat here, Dia so I can truly organize the list of things he will be getting for me tomorrow. Until then, toodles, Dia.