Tail Lights

He throws his last suitcase into the trunk of the yellow taxicab and- BANG! -the lid slams closed, locking his life inside. Somewhere in the distance, an ambulance’s siren blares, and I wonder who else is hurting on this dreary summer night. Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away. I’m too strong for crying. I only cry at night, when I’m alone in my dark bedroom. It’s safe there; I’m safe there. But this isn’t my bedroom; it’s our sleepy neighborhood, the same place I’ve lived since I was born all those years ago. Back when they were happy. Back when we were happy.

            He clears his throat and scratches his eyebrow, something he does when he’s nervous. I know this from the seventeen years that I’ve known him. I twist a piece of my blond hair tightly around my pointer finger, my own personal tick. My eyes flicker around the dull street, trying to focus on anything except the man standing in front of me. The stoplight at the corner…last night’s rain collected in birdbaths…water-soaked blades of grass.  But no matter how hard I try, that task proves impossible.

            “I’m sorry,” he says. My blue eyes lock with his gray ones. I’ve heard him apologize countless times, not really meaning it, only buying more time. But as I stare into his eyes so intensely, I know he’s no longer buying time, but saying a final goodbye.

            I can’t bring myself to speak, the words are locked behind tears and I don’t want to cry. I refuse to allow him that satisfaction. Instead, I give a curt nod. He sighs sadly, genuinely. I bite my lip, yet another anxious habit.

            The cab driver pounds on the horn, a rude, unexpected sound that pierces the tense air, cutting it like a knife. We’re both instantly snapped back to our harsh reality, more so the task at hand. The gray clouds above us hang low, ready to burst at any moment, and the cab driver is obviously anxious to get going. As everyone knows, the taxi business really picks up during torrential downpours. I shake my head a bit, and my focus comes back to the man with the gray eyes, the man who stands in front of me. I study his face- is that sadness or regret? I bet he’s going over his checklist in his mind, trying to be sure that nothing of value will be left behind. I assume he can’t think of a reason to delay this any longer because he opens the cab door slowly. His eyes fall on me once again and I try to hold my head high.

            All of my words have been spent, yelling and fighting, praying for change. I have nothing to say, but maybe that’s because there’s nothing left to say. But he does.

            “I’m sorry,” he whispers again. Then he climbs into the cab, and asks for JFK Airport. The relieved driver happily speeds down the damp street, disappearing into the dreary summer night.

            I can only stand there, watching as the bright red taillights fade away into oblivion. I close my eyes, pinching back the tears. When I open them again, the cab is gone.

            Reality sets in as I turn back to what was once a home, but was now just another crumbling household. It all hits me in that moment, everything this means, yet somehow, my mind wonders back to my mother, who waits inside. I’ve always seen her as brave and wise, yet tonight her pride and confidence was crumbling. He’d been her everything, yet she was merely a face to him, another person he could blame his screw-ups on. I look at my mother tonight and I see a woman breaking apart, piece-by-piece, and it makes me hate him even more. However, at the same time, it makes this that much harder.

After all he’s put us through, it’s better this way. Yet no matter how much I hate him, or how much he’s hurt me, it’s still hard to watch Daddy go.