Thresheld

An Account of What Happened That Faithful Night.

I didn't have a date,
and I didn't want to dance.
Too many people were there
asking me about my plans
for the future. I had none,
and if I did they would have
died that night like the ninety percent
of my dad's brain when it exploded
at the base of that stair case.
I had a little bit to drink,
but I wanted to leave. And I did,
so I know I wasn't drunk
like the group of friends
that surrounded him when I said goodbye.
I took the CR-V to my friend Ben's house.
I know I did I must have picked it up the next day after I heard about the accident,
because I got too drunk to drive there,
so instead I ran up the road in a mad sprint.
I didn't really dance that night,
drink, or care to memorize anything.
I didn't expect to have to recollect it all
in a court room.
I remember the heart stain of grease my sister took a picture of. A sign maybe.
I remember wanting to leave.
I remember mixed liquors,
a slew of alcohol just like always.
I remember my dad was happy. So happy.
I wanted to leave.
I didn't expect to recollect my last true goodbye with him in a court room.
I remember being inside my own head as always. Too closed to my surroundings to shout out justice in this situation. I can't give straight answers.
All I know is I didn't have a date,
I didn't want to dance,
and I took the CR-V home early to go drink with my friends.

Maybe that's not good enough.
Maybe you'll train me to say more.
I don't care! I don't give a God damn!
My dad is gone and a lawsuit is your idea of justice. Money is your condolence to me,
but all I really want, if it's not too much to ask,
is to live that night again. To know better. Not to leave, like she did.

Thanks mom. Thanks for telling me you wished I was never born.
Thanks for teaching me how to look my best when I'm at my worst,
and thank you for leaving your husband drunk at a party,
so that your children could be left to suffer with as much blame.
Thanks for the non existent words you have spoken to me these past three years,
as I've suffered more than financially,
while you lived that fairytale life my dad never gave you.
He gave us everything, but you wanted more.
All those times while I was growing up,
Do you remember that?
Do you remember wishing for a better life.
Guess what. They say be careful what you wish for. Now think about that while I suffer in lingering on my father's accident long enough to appease a few lawyers. I don't want the money, in fact
I would rather I had danced with him more that night.

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