Excerpt of a project I’ll never finish

Today was the anniversary of Daddy’s death. I knew it was because it felt different today. I woke up and it felt like life was trying to fight its way out of my body. It almost felt like I was just now missing a limb that had been amputated long before. The grief came in waves and I lay in bed, unable to move even though I wanted to, paralyzed by a loss that I should have been used to by now.

My therapists lied to me. They explained grief like it was a computer program, with 5 executable, chronological and distinguishable steps. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression then Acceptance, they said. They lied. My grief was an unending blur of all of the above. Some days I felt more angry than depressed and some days I’ve fully accepted that he isn’t here anymore.

Now I was feeling a muted sense of anger and an overwhelming sadness. It wasn’t the sadness you felt when you lost your favourite stuffed toy. It was the kind of sadness that felt so real you could touch it. It might as well have been a person in the room trailing his fingers all over my nerve endings, drenching my blood with lethal, all permeating melancholy.

I lay staring at the ceiling for about an hour, trying to count the sparks blinking in the ceiling. A thousand memories rushed through my brain at lightning speed. Some were as clear as crystal and others were becoming faded, like photographs that had been stored in the attic for years and were now a nasty mustard yellow from disuse. I hated myself for forgetting even the little things about him. I should have paid more attention. How could I not remember if he liked his eggs fried or scrambled? How could I not remember what his favourite tie was?

I didn’t realize I’d been crying until I felt the tear drop slide down my cheeks. Done with feeling sorry for myself, I did my usual morning routine by memory and made my way down the stairs.

Ade beamed at me as I sat at the breakfast bar. “Morning Millie. How are you doing today?”

I miss my Dad. I miss the way he laughed too loud. And I miss the disgusting way he burped, mouth wide open, after every meal. I miss his jokes, even though they were never funny. I miss the way he’d kiss my face, even though his beard always tickled my skin. I miss the way he’d stand in my doorway like a kid with a bone when he just figured out something extremely exciting like how to properly install the tissue in the tissue holder or how to make rice and peas without burning the pot. I miss the way he used to make my mum happy. I miss how he’d annoy her to dance with him. I miss how he made our family a family.

I thought about his question for a few seconds. A part of me wanted to be honest, but instead I reached for one of the pineapple slices and faked a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Today’s gonna be a great day. Cheer up kiddo.”
“Is Mitch staying in today? I passed her phone on the table by the hall.”
“She said she’s calling in sick today. Or rather she mumbled. I left her some Advil and orange juice. Take care of her while I’m gone. I love you. Bye.”
I absently watched him run through the door, with his toast stuck between his teeth and smiled a little. He was so wrong. Today was not gonna be a great day. Not at all.

     ##-##

I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I woke up to the sound of angry voices. For a second I thought I was back in my mum’s hotel room and she was screaming at whichever new fling had upset her. Then I took in the blue walls and closed my eyes as my heartbeat slowed and recognition dawned.
Following the sound, I crept down the stairs and jumped, nearly missing a step. The sound of breaking dishes was unmistakable and each time a dish made impact with the floor my skin broke out in goosebumps.

I stopped outside the kitchen and hesitated.
“Michelle, please. Calm down.”
“Do not tell me to calm down.”
“I asked a simple question.”
“Oh fuck you.”
“We do this every year.”
“Well I’m sorry for being an inconvenience to you Ade. Sorry it’s the anniversary of his death today. Sorry I have a father who’s dead. Oh wait. Shit. I can’t have a father because he’s DEAD. Do you hear me? DEAD. And clearly I’m not allowed to grieve for my dead father because my husband wants to go out to dinner to celebrate.”
“Don’t say that Mitch. I got such a great offer today and I came home hoping to share it with you. And you’re making it seem like I asked you to throw stones at his grave, like I asked you to forget him.”
“Just go Ade. Go.”
“He’s gone Mitch. He’s dead and he’s not coming back. I’m alive. I’m still here. And lately, it’s like every day I feel like I’m losing you more and more to somebody who’s already gone.”
“He was my father Ade. Stop making this about you.”
“I’m not trying to be your dad. I’d never. And I’m not trying to make myself seem more important that he is. I love you Mitch.”
“Do you think you can love him away?” I heard her shrill laugh and even though I couldn’t see her I could picture the incredulity on her face.
“Let me help. I’m trying to be here for you so losing him doesn’t hurt as much. And you won’t let me help you. You won’t even talk about him.”
“I don’t want you to help me. I don’t. I want to be alone.”
“You’re my wife godammit. We gave up dealing with shit alone at the altar. When you took my fucking last name. Jesus. Why wear my ring if you only want me to be there for you when you it’s easy?”
“Take the fucking ring. Take it.”
Another clunk. This time of metal pinging as it bounced from surface to surface. It was followed by dead silence and my heart stopped in my throat.
“I made a mistake coming here. I’m sorry.”
He stepped out of the kitchen and I moved away from the wall like it was on fire. He walked out and looked at me. Like a deer caught in the headlights, I stood immobile with my mouth agape. He cursed then made his way up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
I heard another dish break and followed after him, preferring to face the emptiness of my room than walking into a sailing dinner plate.
I almost knocked into him as he ran down the stairs.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out.
“It’s not your fault, I should have looked where I was going.”
“Not that. I’m sorry for everything else.”
He kissed me on the forehead and squeezed my forearm before walking past me and walking out the door, slamming it behind it. Dazed, I sank down on the steps. It took me a second to realize that he had taken an overnight bag with him. As the car took off, the tires rubbing against the concrete, Mitch peeked her head out of the kitchen to look at the door.
She looked at me and glared so hard I could feel her gaze pricking my skin.
“Don’t say a word to me. Don’t say shit to me.”
She disappeared into the kitchen and I waited. I don’t know what for, but I waited.

I woke up to Kevin shaking me awake. Annoyed I slapped at his hands and rubbed the side of my face which was nearly permanently branded from the rail of the staircase.
“What?”
“I came by to give Ade his work before 8 and he’s not even here. Did he leave early for the gym?”
“He wasn’t here this morning.” I murmured, the memories from last night flooded back in stark clarity.
“Oh.”
“Could you give him this when he gets back? I have to drop my mom off at the gym.”
I nodded and accepted the thick brown enveloped and stifled a yawn.
“And take a shower. You look like shit. We’ll talk later.”

I was taking Kevin’s advice and taking shower when I heard the raucous. I quickly turned off the pipe as fast as I could and got dressed before vaulting down the stairs.
I found Michelle in the kitchen on all fours, kneeling among the pieces of broken glass, her hands and knees red from blood.
My heart lurched and lodged itself in my chest and I ran to grab her off the floor.
I felt her tears against my chest before I saw them. She tried to struggle and I held her until she stopped fighting me. Only then could I feel and hear the sobs racking her body. I wanted to help her to breathe. I wanted to make the pain go away, but I remembered that I too felt Dad’s loss and that there was nothing I could do to help myself. Helplessness settled on me with a cloud of fatigue and I closed my eyes, trying instead to hold her- to give her to only comfort I could offer.
“My ring,” she forced out between hiccups. “I can’t find it.”
“Shhh, it’s okay. I found it last night.” I reached into the pockets of my sweatpants and took out her wedding ring.
Her sobs multiplied and she tried to grab it but I held it out of her reach.
“Your hands are full of blood. Let’s get you cleaned up first.”

She was oddly calm while I cleaned her wounds with the first aid kit stashed under the counter. I handed her the ring and she carefully slipped it on her finger. She looked up at me and another stream of tears flowed down her face.
“I screwed up.”
I didn’t say anything but instead busied myself with cleaning up the pieces of broken plates that scattered the kitchen floor like confetti.
“You didn’t.”
“You weren’t there. You didn’t hear the horrible things I said to him.”
“I was there. I didn’t hear all of it.”

She looked at me and waited for me to finish tidying the kitchen. I could feel her impatience like a touch and despite it all I had to smile. Even in her current state she could still be her annoying and demanding self.
“And,” she prompted.
“You screwed up,” I confirmed.
Her tears came impossibly fast and she laid her head on her arms and began another bout of crying. I rolled my eyes and grabbed for the roll of paper towels.

“You screwed up, but it’s not over yet. You can fix it.”
“No I can’t,” she mumbled.
“Yes. He loves you and he’ll forgive you.”
“But what about next year? How many more times will be have to forgive me?”
“Are you really going to let this happen another year?”
She lifted her head and accepted the paper towel I handed her.
“It’s just I miss Dad so much.”
“I know Mitch. I miss him too. And yesterday was hard for me too. But Ade wanted to help. He wanted to do for you what nobody has never done for me. At least not for free.”
I sighed and rolled off a piece of paper and began attacking it, tearing it into tiny pieces as I spoke.
“Mom never spoke about him after you left, you know. She took down all the photos of them together that were in the house. It was like she was trying to forget him. And little by little people stopped asking me about him. His birthday would come and our grandparents wouldn’t call or come over. Nobody at school asked me about him and you weren’t there. And every year on their wedding anniversary or his birthday or a day like yesterday mom would be conveniently busy. Then she’d come home and lock herself in her room and I’d hear her cry herself to sleep. And then she’d wake up the next day all chirpy like the day before never even happened. But it did. Because Dad wasn’t there to talk about how great his gifts were, or hint that the sex was good in his gross way. And the box of all their pictures would be open on the floor beside mom’s bed. She always forgot to put it away after she was finished. I never had anybody to talk to about Dad. I just missed him all by myself.”
“I’m sorry-“she started.
“Don’t be. Last night you said you wanted to be alone. You don’t want that. I’ve been alone for so long.” I took a break as I heard my voice cracking then fought to clear my throat and move on. “Being alone isn’t fun. And you have an amazing guy who’s head over heels in love with you. You’re married to a guy who’d win the award for best husband every year. On top of all that he wants to be there for you. Yet you push him away. Don’t push him away Mitch. Don’t. Because then you’ll be just like mom. You’ll be crying over a box of photos. But unlike you, mom’s crying over a man who left her because of something out of their control. You’ll be crying over a man who left because you didn’t allow him to stay.”
I quickly swiped at my cheeks with my hand and gathered the tufts of compressed cotton and dumped them in the bin.
“Don’t push him away. He makes the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had. Don’t take that away from me. Plus he puts up with you and for some reason only God he knows, he loves you. I promise you, that’s a phenomenon rarer than a comet.”
She laughed and threw her ball of snot infested paper towels at me. I shrieked and enveloped her in a hug.
“When did you become so smart?” she asked watching me as I sanitized the counter.
“When you started breaking dishes.”

That night I came home and almost tripped over Ade’s duffel bag in the entry hall. Smiling, I walked towards the kitchen and halted when I heard their voices.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. You’re right. He’s gone and pushing you away won’t bring him back. And you’re right about my needing you. I do need you. And I don’t want to be alone. Not anymore. I want you to help me.”
“Come here.”

I slid down the side of the wall and leaned my head against it, closing my eyes.
“Shhh, don’t cry. It’s okay. I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise me you won’t leave again.”
“Only if you promise not to throw dishes at me anymore.”
“I promise.”

“I was sad because I found out something a few days ago. And today it hit me our fathers were both gone and they wouldn’t be in our children’s lives. Our baby won’t have a granddad.”

Michelle cleared her throat and I could feel her tears as if they were my own tears.
“Oh, baby.”
“I have a gift for you. I know I’m late.”
I heard the rustle of papers and waited.
“What’s this?”
“Ultrasound pictures.”
“What?” I smiled at the wonder in Ade’s voice and felt myself getting excited as he tried to figure out what I had already pieced together.
“I’m pregnant.”
“You’re pregnant? We’re pregnant?”
Silence.
“Holy shitttt. Millie, come inside and stop eavesdropping. We’re gonna have a baby.” Ade’s laughter filled the room and I grinned. The war was officially over.
I got up from the floor and walked in, reaching for the black and white photo of my coming niece or nephew. I ignored Ade and Michelle sharing air beside me and tried to figure out which one of the white specks was the fetus. I didn’t care. I was already in love with the photo, every single pixel of it.