You Would Never Know

XXV | Time Is Our Remedy

The rain hasn't stopped ever since... ever since I was forcefully pushed into a reality I never saw coming so soon, and that way too.

It seemed like the sky had been crying for me. Sometimes it felt like it wanted me to cry with it, but I didn't allow myself to.

While the sky had to accept its new member with open arms, I didn't. Because whatever little I had of my own father was snatched away from me.

For years, I felt like I never had enough of him, and now I'll never get to have enough.

Despite a part of me nagging and yelling at me that I needed to accept the reality that I no longer had my father, the other part was venomously persistent and hopeful.

The beeping sound was nearing its end again, but each time it went to voicemail, I'd beg, beg, and beg for an answer.

Just like my calls, my messages weren't answered; the last time he opened his messages was weeks before this deafening silence consumed my life.

With the way I continuously and consistently kept dialing his number, it turned into muscle memory; my fingers kept calling his number again and again.

Each time I put the phone to my ear with hope and eagerness that I might finally hear his voice, I was met with silence.

I didn't hear his voice, and that made my blood run dry.

But I was persistent; he'd answer; I was sure of it.

And just like a hundred times before, he didn't answer. So I opted to text him again.

"Hi Papa, I wanted to say I missed you. Could you please answer soon?"

All the messages I sent seemed lifeless; it almost looked like I was a robot, repeating my desperation again and again at a specific time.

Every day, once I'm left all alone again, I spend time talking to the one who no longer answers.

I scrolled through the messages to see if he read any, but none were seen.

"Papa, I feel alone. I'm surrounded by people all the time, yet I've never felt lonelier."

"Please come back."

"Happy birthday, Papa. Your gift is ready. Come and get it."

"How was your day? Mine was tolerable. After Mamma forced me to get back to work, I've been giving it my all just for you, and today we raised the sales to their highest record yet! Come, Papa, you need to witness this for yourself!"

"At moments like this, as my father, you're supposed to tell me how proud you are of me; why aren't you saying anything?"

"Papa, if you don't answer, I'll sell your watch."

All of these messages weren't seen, and none of them received a reply, but I couldn't give up.

And again, I started calling, and again, there were no answers. I was desperately trying to reach him, but I was again met with a dead end.

I went back and laid on my side, bringing my knees to my chest. My phone was clutched in my hand in case Papa ever replied because that part of me that believed my eyes lied to me and that father is just distancing himself like he always did and he's actually still filling his lungs with air is persistent and full of hope.

I heard the daily knock on my door, but I didn't answer. I didn't speak to Abel once since what happened, which I couldn't bring myself to do.

There were clinking sounds from outside, but I didn't pay heed to them since I was used to them by now. "Dali, here's your food; it's outside for you on the ground; come out and take it when you're ready."