The Death Date

chapter twenty-six

A week had gone by since Friendsgiving at Nick's, but time had not healed any of the wounds that had been pried open that night. Every inch of me felt bruised; I was sore inside out, and it was a constant reminder of the all the pain I had buried for so long. My mind was unable to rid the memories or stuff them back inside their crypt.

Minor distractions seemed the only thing that was somewhat effective. Work kept me preoccupied, and volunteering at the vet provided a reprieve; however, it was becoming more difficult to dodge the questions Veronica and the others kept throwing at me about starting the vet tech program. They knew I had been accepted but hadn't committed to going.

Another distraction had been my mom. She was home now and life filled our apartment; routine easily fell around us. When I left in the morning, she was already up and getting ready for work, and the two of us ate dinner and finished our days snuggled on the couch watching something on TV. The fear of seeing her eyes faded black gnawed at me in the first few days of her return, but by the end of the week, I wasn't afraid; it was an easy change to get used to. The hospitalization and her following treatment had done wonders; my mom was herself again.

"Honey," she said over our steaming dinner. "Have you – have you heard from your father?"

We had successfully avoided this topic of conversation since she was released from the hospital, and I would have given anything to keep the trend going.

"No," I lied, willing it to be truth.

Resting her elbows on the table, she said, "He has his faults, but he's still your father."

Another wound had been opened. "The first part of the sentence is true," I muttered.

Her hand reached to grab mine. "Honey, I know the pain you're feeling – the anger. I know it all, and it's entirely justified, believe me. But I..." – she squeezed my palm – "I don't want you to go through life with any regrets."

"The only regret I would feel would be giving him a second chance," I bit out.

Sighing, my mom said, "You don't know everything from back then, honey – there were many reasons that made him leave." At my look of repulsion, she quickly added, "I'm not saying it was right, okay, not at all. He shouldn't have left you like he did but... oh, Delia" – her voice broke – "he did try to contact you afterwards, but I – I... I was so hurt by him. I didn't tell you he called."

I was stung but it didn't matter. "He still left."

She nodded, eyes prying away from mine. "He loves you, Delia."

"Being someone's dad is not the same thing as love. If he loved me, he would've kept trying to reach me."

Heaviness settled around us, and I ached all over again. I had trained myself to turn the hate I felt for my father into indifference, and I truly believed I had. He had left and never returned, leaving my mom and I all alone with a massive hole neither of us knew how to fill. But, as the saying goes, every story had two sides, and if what my mom had told me was true, if he had tried to contact me after leaving, that gave me something else to consider. I felt my indifference start to shift. Into what, I wasn't sure, but I told myself I would take a look once it settled.

xxx

Melanie's apartment was comfortably warm. With the arrival of December, a cold front had swept it, coating the city in an unseasonably frigid temperature. Bones froze quickly at this temperature when they were otherwise perpetually warm.

A hot mug of tea rested between my hands. Melanie was pulling things from the kitchen cabinet as the thoughts that brought me down here started to ruminate. My death date was approaching, I had just over a month and half left, and both the pressure and fear started to intensify. So many doors had opened in the last couple of months. My mom was recovering, I had two friends that were happy and progressing, and I had the opportunity to start something that I enjoyed with the vet tech program.