Drown

Happier times

Feeling tired and frustrated from the seemingly endless drive to my father's place, I couldn't help but think that it was taking longer than expected. With every mile that passed, the anticipation grew, making the journey feel like it was dragging on for an eternity. As I neared a particular robot on the road, seemingly getting closer to my destination, my progress was abruptly halted by a car that cut me off with no warning.

Reacting quickly, I slammed the brakes with all my might, bringing my car to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road. The sudden jolt caused a chain reaction behind me as other vehicles screeched to a halt, creating a cacophony of frustrated honking. In a state of panic, I furiously honked at the car that had cut me off, immediately noticing that it was a sleek black vehicle - eerily similar to the one that had menaced me a few days prior. It was as if fate was playing a cruel trick on me, bringing back memories that I thought I had left behind.

Straining my eyes, I tried to make out the blurry license plate of the car, desperately attempting to discern the first few numbers. Unfortunately, my vision failed me, rendering the license plate unreadable. The car's windows were tinted darkly, obstructing my view of the driver, and giving the vehicle an air of secrecy. Within a matter of seconds, the car accelerated and sped away, disappearing into the distance, leaving me with an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Strange," I muttered to myself, perplexed by the bizarre encounter. Shaking off the unease, I gathered myself and resumed my journey towards my father's place. The hours seemed to stretch on endlessly, as if time itself had slowed down, prolonging the anticipation of our impending meeting. Finally, as the day drew to a close, I arrived at his modest home, nestled far away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

Approaching his front door with a sense of determination, I knocked loudly, as if announcing my presence with authority. My father opened the door, his expression a perplexing mix of surprise and confusion. Before he could utter a word of greeting, I pushed past him, with a firm resolve to have a serious conversation.

"We need to talk, father," I declared, my voice filled with conviction. The shock on his face was evident as he scrambled to process what was happening. In a momentary lapse of composure, he retorted, "Who the hell do you think you are, coming into my home like you own the place?"

Knowing that he had a tendency to launch into one of his lengthy lectures, I abruptly cut him off with a single name. "Nelson," I said, casting an unyielding gaze upon him. In all my years, I had never seen my father lost for words. He was always quick to offer an opinion or engage in a heated discussion. However, this time, he fell silent, his head bowed in resignation.

With a heavy sigh, he finally spoke, admitting, "I guess you know the truth about your brother." His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of a buried secret. I locked eyes with him, bracing myself for the impending interrogation. But before I could even form a question, my father's voice cracked and he began to sob, unleashing a flood of raw emotion. It was as if the floodgates had been opened, and the pain he had been concealing erupted like a torrent.

Giving him the space and time he needed to collect himself, I handed him a tissue, silently acknowledging the depth of his grief. As he wiped away his tears, he repeated the phrase, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," as if hoping that his remorse could somehow mend the shattered pieces of our fractured family.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I couldn't help but ask him why he was apologizing. With a shaky breath, he gathered his thoughts and began to share a long-awaited piece of the puzzle. "I let you all down - you, your mother, and your brother. And I know that right now you may see your mother as an angel or a she-devil, but there was a time when happiness existed."

He delved into a memory, recounting a day when he had returned home unexpectedly. The sound of laughter had drifted through the house, compelling him to investigate. Climbing the stairs, he stumbled upon a heart-wrenching scene - your mother and Nelson sharing a genuine moment of joy, engrossed in a game of cards on the floor. It was a sight that mirrored the special bond he had witnessed between you and your mother countless times.

Rather than confronting them, my father chose to retreat quietly, slipping back downstairs as though he had just arrived home. In the weeks that followed, he became consumed with unravelling the truth behind what he had witnessed. And the truth was nothing short of startling - Nelson had become your mother's favourite, a revelation that both confused and pained him deeply.

"You were her beacon of love, always," my father began, trying to make sense of the complicated dynamic. "But Nelson, despite being the youngest, captured your mother's heart in a way that she never expected. As she spent more and more time with him, her love grew exponentially. Yet, she struggled to reconcile her feelings, creating a facade when others were present, but showering Nelson with her devotion behind closed doors."

In disbelief, I interrupted him, demanding an explanation for such a tangled web of emotions. Fuelled by the need to understand, I questioned him, "How is that possible? How could she have betrayed us like that?"

He sighed deeply, his eyes filled with sorrow as he continued, "I know, it seems unfathomable. But let me paint the whole picture for you and shed some light on the circumstances." My father delved further into the story, recounting how Nelson's elevated position in your mother's heart was a result of circumstances - your busy schedule with school and sports, his own long hours at work, and your mother's role as the primary caregiver at home.

"Investigating further, I discovered that Nelson had a depth of character that had taken your mother by surprise. The more time she spent with him, the more she fell under his spell. However, the situation became too complex for her to handle alone, so she resorted to putting on a different face when others were present."

Stunning as this revelation was, it only added to the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. I struggled to process the implications of my mother's questionable actions, desperately seeking answers to the questions that peppered my mind. As if sensing my inner turmoil, my father leaned forward, ready to disclose yet another layer to this already convoluted tale.

"I intentionally kept this revelation from your aunt. She claims to know so much, but in reality, she only possesses a fraction of the truth," my father admitted, his voice tinged with regret. He continued, revealing the bitter history between him and your aunt - a past love affair that fell apart when he fell in love with your mother instead. The news of their blossoming romance devastated your aunt, leaving her bitter and resentful, convinced that your mother had stolen him away.

Knowing the extent of your aunt's animosity, my father made the difficult decision to forbid her from visiting their home, fearing that her presence would only exacerbate the already strained relationship. However, fate intervened, and she made an unannounced visit, catching them both off guard. In a moment of weakness, fuelled by his own resentment towards your mother, my father succumbed to your aunt's advances, using the opportunity to hurt your mother - an act that he would come to deeply regret.

From that pivotal moment, everything shifted. The fractures within their relationship deepened, and your mother's pain and anger intensified. Blaming my father for not saving Nelson, she believed that his secret desire was for their youngest son to perish, taking his shameful secret to the grave. In her eyes, my father had betrayed them both, shattering their family in irreversible ways. And so, your mother, overwhelmed by grief, sought solace in erasing every trace of Nelson's existence, imploring the town to forget him as well.

My father's voice trembled with self-disgust as he confessed, "It was my biggest mistake, seeking comfort in your aunt's arms after your mother and I split. I only added fuel to the fire of bitterness that already consumed her. I retreated from the world, choosing to hide in my shame, far away from prying eyes."

With those final words, I felt an overwhelming mix of anger, sadness, and confusion. The weight of the revelations bore down on me, threatening to suffocate my resolve. Without looking back, I walked away from my father, determined to confront my mother and unravel the remaining threads of this intricate tapestry of secrets and betrayal. As I closed his front door behind me, I silently promised myself that I was done with him and his tangled web of deceit.