Where We Stand

5 | Lost in You

Chapter 5

On Saturday night, Ma made chocolate pudding topped with raisins. It had been ages since I had eaten anything with chocolate—that is if two weeks could be attributed to an eternity. I swallowed the last of my meal and stretched in my chair.

"Mommy, you promised Daddy would come home," Sarah said.

"He's busy with work, sweetie."

"Can I talk to him on the phone?"

Ma pressed her mouth shut. She glanced at the empty chair to my left, the one where Dad always sat. A wistful look took over her calm expression. She tucked one hand over her chin and sighed. I settled my spoon on the plate with a clang. Ma squirmed in her seat.

“Sarah, did you finish your homework?” I asked.

“Nope.” She tipped her chin up. “I want to talk to Daddy first.”

My mother looked at me in a silent plea. My gaze dropped to my empty plate. What was I supposed to tell her? I was sick of the lies. Sarah was a child but she wasn’t stupid. She knew we were hiding something. Picking up a jar, I filled my glass with water.

“Mommy?”

“Your father can’t talk, Sarah.”

“Why?”  

“He’s busy.”

“He’s always busy!” Sarah left the table, rushed up the stairs and shut herself in her room.

We took the dishes to the kitchen in silence. I offered to help clean them but Ma declined. She kept herself busy, distracting herself from the conversation at dinner. I went to Sarah’s room. She was doing her homework, colored pencils sprawled on the desk, a book splayed open and a ruler placed atop a sheaf of papers. 

I rested my hip against the table and watched as she drew a sun. She hummed to herself, her legs swinging back and forth in her chair.

“Meggie?”

I looked into her blue eyes.

“Do you miss Daddy?” She set her pencil down.

I opened my mouth to say something, a stream of lies forming in my mind. A heavy weight constricted my chest, squeezing my ribs. It wasn’t right. I shouldn’t be doing this to her. I was so tired of pretending that we were doing okay. That we were a perfect family. The truth was, only our lies were perfect. Ma was falling apart. I was always angry. Sure, I could keep it hidden in a little corner in my heart but deep down. I was angry. Furious at my father.

I hissed out a breath. “I do.”

“I miss him too," she said and went back to drawing.

I remembered all the emails I sent to Dad. All the phone calls I made. He never replied to my emails. He never picked up my calls. Eventually, he changed his number.

Sarah had finished coloring the sun. Swapping her yellow pencil with a green one, she made straight strokes below the sun. Green for grass. Leaning down, I left a sloppy kiss on her forehead. Sarah poked my tummy with her pencil, mumbling something about germs.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The weight in my chest vanished. Ruffling her hair, I turned to leave. After brushing my teeth and changing my shirt and jeans for a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, I retreated to my room.

Moonlight filtered in through the thin curtains. I lay in bed for some time. Sleep didn’t sweep me in its arms. There was light outside my door which meant Ma hadn’t gone to sleep either. This had to stop. The lies. The empty promises. The false hope.

Swinging my feet over my bed, I rose up. I didn’t need to turn on the lamp to know where the note was. It was tucked between two books on my shelf. I hurried downstairs. Ma was pacing back and forth in the living room. The TV was on, the screen displaying a car chase scene. She never liked action movies.

“Stop lying to her,” I said.

She paused, her face cast in shadows. “Megan, we’ve talked—”

“He’s not coming back!” I gritted my teeth, pushing the anger down my throat, keeping my voice steady. “Don’t do this to Sarah. Don’t keep her waiting.”

Ma grabbed onto the table, one hand massaging her forehead. She looked out the window, at the lone streetlight spilling light over the fence. She had lived in denial for months, waiting and hoping that Dad would one day return to us. She’d lied to our neighbors. To her friends. To my grandparents. To Sarah. She’d told them my father had gotten a job transfer to a neighboring town.

He hadn’t. He’d left us for another woman. He’d abandoned us. Two days before he’d walked out, I had overheard Ma and Dad arguing in their room when I had woken up from sleep to fetch a glass of water in the kitchen. He’d said he couldn’t be with her anymore. He loved another woman. Two days later, Dad went to work and never returned. He didn’t take his clothes or any of his belongings. He didn’t say goodbye. He just left.

I’d found a tiny note under his pillow. A note to us. I had showed it to Ma but she’d refused to touch it let alone read it.

“Go to sleep, Megan,” Ma said.

I looked at my palm, at the scrap of paper Ma was afraid of. Holding it out, I said, “Read it.”

Her eyes widened, fingers pressed to her mouth, face crumpled in pain. She shook her head. I took a step forward.

“Read it, Ma.” Taking her hand, I pressed the note on her palm. “Please.”  

Maybe it was the pleading tone of my voice that did it. She unfolded the note. I knew what it contained. Four words that had destroyed every happy memory I had of Dad. Four words that had torn our family’s happiness.

Don’t look for me.

The note fell from her hand, plummeting to the floor. Ma bowed her head, her hair hiding her face. As her shoulders shook, a void burrowed itself in my chest. My throat closed up. There was nothing worse than watching your mother cry. It was more painful than having your nail pulled out or your toes broken.

Unbidden, I threw my arms over her shoulders, hugging her. She cried silently and I felt her tears staining my T-shirt. I closed my eyes and made a promise to myself. I won’t let my family fall apart any longer. I would be strong for Ma and Sarah. 

Later, we climbed the stairs to the first floor. Family pictures dotted the wall by the stairs. There was one where I was carrying Sarah when she was only a baby, a goofy smile on my face. Another one where I was standing next to Ma and a five year old Sarah was squeezed between us. She’d stuck her tongue out and made her eyes look squinted. There were no photos of Dad. I’d taken them out and hidden them in the basement.

Light leaked from the space under Sarah’s door. She was still drawing. Ma glanced at me. I nodded at her. She entered her room, leaving the door ajar.

I heard them talking, knowing my little sister would never be the same after today. I knew Ma had lied to her to protect her but sooner or later, she would have found out and blame us for keeping her in the dark. It was better this way. She deserved to know the truth.

Sarah asked her whether Dad had left because she’d done something wrong. That’s when the tears came. I felt my whole body weep along with my heart as I slid down the wall and sat on the floor. My hand closed over my mouth, keeping the sounds in.

All the anger and pain exploded out of that little corner in my heart. I let them flow out through my tears, through the sounds I muffled. Finally, when all the tears had dried, I wiped my face clean.

An hour had passed when the light from the room was switched off. Ma stepped out, her eyes rimmed red. I peered through the darkness, spotting Sarah’s sleeping form.

“Now what?” she asked.

I stood up. “Now we move on.”