The Girl with Cherry Earrings | ✔

23

Slowly, I slid the wooden chair out from underneath the kitchen table, watching suspiciously as Dad's gaze wandered around the room, landing on everything but me.

As I took a seat, I couldn't help but notice Dad's shoulders tremble slightly they rose and fell.

The solemn silence in the room clung tightly around us, not letting a single second of causality slip through.

"Vince," Dad muttered finally, catching my gaze only briefly before flicking his eyes away. Again, he took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he let out a long sigh. "I believe that you're..." he paused for a moment, snapping his mouth shut as if going against second thoughts. " ...You're mature enough for me, or anyone to not need to sugarcoat anything." Again, he hesitated before letting another word slip out of his mouth. "I genuinely believe that you're able to handle...mature topics."

With a wave of concern washing over my expression, I cautiously nodded my head in response, beckoning for him to continue.

"And Vince," he murmured in a puff of desperation, "I don't know how to say this but...Grandpa...he...passed away, days before Christmas."

All of a sudden, I felt my spirit being sucked out of me. It felt like a pile of weights had all suddenly plunged on top of me, drowning me in a mass of cold reality.

"What...?" I managed to utter in disbelief, my voice cracking as I tried my best to hold back the pain threatening to etch my words.

For once, Dad's gaze landed on mine. His eyes were glazed over, and the expression on his face seemed to only resemble a look of pure sorrow, and to my horror, pure honesty.

"I'm sorry Vince" was all that he could mutter before breaking down entirely. The large globs gathered at the edge of his eyelids began rolling down his cheeks, as his shoulders heaved with the silence of his sobs. Short mumbles of "I'm sorry" and "Vince, I know, I'm sorry" slipped out from his mouth, causing his news to sting even more.

The last time Dad was like this was years ago when Mom left us. And even then it didn't hurt much as it did now.

It was moments like these where I wished I was a little kid again, oblivious to all the problems life threw at you.

The longer I watched Dad, the more my heart began to drop. And it didn't take long for my vision to begin to blur.

Abruptly, Dad stood up from his chair, swiftly turning his head to the side to hide his reddening eyes.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that Vince, let's just call it a night for now. We can talk more about this tomorrow morning."

Oddly calm, he rushed out of the kitchen, but not before flashing me a frail smile.

And so, I was left alone to a dead silence and my thoughts.

I took a deep breath, as if doing so could stop the tears from flowing from my eyes. But it didn't help. Nothing helped.

I was alone to the unwelcoming silence hanging in the room, lost in the rush of hot tears streaming down my cheeks.

Kids in my class used to make fun of me for crying. To them, boys weren't allowed to cry, only girls. Boys weren't allowed to show any sense if vulnerability whatsoever. But here I was, bawling my eyes out "like a girl".

Mom used to always come to my rescue at times like these. But she wasn't here anymore.

And neither was Grandpa.