When You Left

19

11. 10. 13.

        My father called me today; well, not my real father. I never had one of those. But, Jim is the closest thing I have and ever will have. But, you know that. You were so happy when I told you that I at least had one person to rely on other than you. So, I of course couldn’t tell you that Jim only adopted me for the government subsidy checks he received every week. I couldn’t tell you that I was really his roommate instead of daughter and he only every spoke to me when he wanted me to do the laundry or dishes.

        I didn’t want to disappoint you again.

        He does call every few months to check on me because even though he is a selfish and uncaring man he always held pity for me. And that’s what the call was. A pity call. And if there is one thing I have always hated; it’s pity.

        So, I ignored his call and went on attempting to cook tacos before I just gave up and ordered take-out again. But, seeing his name flash across the screen of a phone that barely rings anymore spurred something deep inside me. I found myself sat at the kitchen table, letting my chow-mien get cold as I recalled the time I first met your family.

        We had been actually dating a few months and I really should’ve met them long before, but you were hesitant because you claimed they were embarrassing. But, I still think you thought they wouldn’t like me. Which, was partially true anyway.

        But, I still showed up on the doorstep of your childhood home with sweaty palms, weak knees, and a strong desire to run. It was my first time ever meeting a boyfriend’s family and I thought I was going to pass out. I had actually brought my old inhaler from middle school when I had bad asthma attacks just in case.

        Luckily, you answered the door with your unruly hair pushed up in a headband –which I loved so very much- and a wide grin on your face. It grew even wider when I leaned up to kiss your dimples.

        “Okay, so my mom is Maria and my father is Nicholas. My oldest brother is-“

        “Timothy, then your two sisters are Evangeline and Angelica. Evangeline is the one with fake red hair and Angelica has a nose piercing that your mother hates. Your mom loves manners and your dad hates Madrid’s soccer team. I’ve got this.”  I recite all the information you had told me, trying to reassure you and myself.

        “You never cease to impress me with your impeccable memory.” You had a proud grin on your face as you shut the door behind me and took the wine bottle from my hands. I didn’t dare tell you that I actually prepared flashcards of your whole family so I wouldn’t say the wrong thing to make them hate me.

        You took my hand and led me into the kitchen sheepishly, where my nerves only grew at the sight of your entire family in the kitchen, all trying to help your mother cook and arguing at the same time. We stood awkwardly on the sideline and you kept clearing your throat, your hand squeezing mine, until finally, Angelica noticed us and stopped beating your brother upside the head.

        And then she screamed.

        “Daisy?!” She squealed excitedly and ran to engulf me in a bone crushing hug. I tried not to let my face show the uncomfortableness I felt at the show of affection. And you knew how I felt about it, so you pried her off of me.

        While you scolded her on her manners, the rest of your family approached me slowly, like predators.

        “We’ve heard so much about you.”

        “You’re much prettier than I imagined.”

        “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”