Stay

The hunched figure in the chair couldn’t be who they said he was. He sat folded practically in half in the dim lighting, bony fingers clutching at the frayed blanket. An untouched cup of coffee sat on the table next to him.

A memory stirred as she stared at the blanket. It had been their favourite to snuggle under when she had been a child. She couldn’t believe he had kept it after all these years.

A cough drew her attention to the figure. Pale green eyes that still managed to stop her heart stared out from sunken sockets. These past years have not been kind to him. The mullet that had been his pride and joy for so many years was gone, shorn off in an effort to make it manageable for his shaking hands to maintain.

His skin stretched tautly across his face, his once so seemingly broad shoulders nothing but skeletal bone.

This couldn’t be.

How could this man be her father?

How could this be the man who had filled the room with his presence, the man whose voice rose above all others, whose words still cut deep?

How?

“You finally decided to show up. All it took was for me to be dying for you to show your face.” She recoiled slightly before inhaling deeply and stepping further into the gloom she had fought for so many years to be free of.

“Yes. I came.”

“Despite your best efforts though, right?”

She sat down across from him. His face remained neutral, but she saw that tremor.

“I came because I have questions that only you can answer.”

“About what? The meaning of life?” He coughed out a wheezing laugh. “I don’t have that.”

“Not that, Dad.”

“Then what? What could you possibly need from me? You’ve managed to live your life without me just fine.”

“That wasn’t my choice,” she whispered.

“No? Wasn’t it you who walked down the aisle with your uncle? Wasn’t it you who was content to allow your uncle to give you away, a man who had no right to do so?”

She bit the inside of her cheek to stem the tears threatening to spill over. It was true. She had chosen her uncle over her father. Her wonderful uncle, who had been more of a father to her than the man in front of her had ever been. And there wasn’t a moment since then that she had regretted that decision.

But his words slashed through the wall she had built around her heart, strengthened by years of little contact between them. And yet he plowed through without so much as a hint of hesitation.

“If you had taken the time to talk to me, you would’ve underst—”

“How dare you.”

The even whisper froze her blood. “What?”

“How dare you!” He screamed, spittle flying as his hateful gaze finally met her’s. “How dare you come in here pretending to be a dutiful daughter and telling me that I should’ve just listened to your explanation of why I wasn’t worthy enough to give my own damn daughter away?”

“Don’t yell at me.” Her voice trembled slightly. She hated it—that weakness in her voice that made her feel like a child once again, standing in the stifling presence of her father, whom she never had the courage to challenge.

“Why? What right do you have coming in here like this?”

“Because I am your daughter!” She bit back. “I am your freaking daughter, and as such, I have a right to get the answers to the questions that have consumed my waking moments since you up and left us for another woman!”

“That’s what this is about?”

“Of course that’s what this is about! That’s all it's been about since I was 12! How could this possibly be about anything else?”

“You aren’t over that yet?”

His coolness fueled her fury. “Of course not! How could I ‘get over’ the catastrophic event that shaped who I am? Who I have become?” She shot to her feet. “How dare you!”

“And there she is. The little girl who believes she is all grown up and mature.”

She sank back into her chair. She stared at him coolly. “In case you missed it, I am grown up. Something you always seem to forget. I am a woman, a beautiful, confident woman who rolled with everything life threw at her and survived. And not only did I survive, I thrived, and I did it all without you. I don’t need you. Or your approval. Or your support. I did this all without you. And I will continue on even after you’re gone. So, really, I have made peace with not knowing. I am here so that you can give me answers, so that maybe you can rest easy by getting things off your chest.”

He said nothing. His hands grasped at that blanket, clenching and unclenching in a hypnotic rhythm.

“Why did you leave? How could you leave?”

He shrugged, raising his head to look her in the eye. She stared back, shoulders squared. She was not leaving without answers. She had waited too long.

“Why did you leave?”

“There was so much pain. I had lost the babies, my best friend, so much death… I was so alone…”

“We all lost them. All of us. Your family.”

“I was alone. So alone…”

“But you weren’t. What about your wife, who was in the hospital? The woman you promised to love in sickness and in health? What about your children? We needed you!”

“I was just in so much pain.”

“That isn’t an excuse,” she whispered. “There were people—children—who needed you. And you weren’t there. You didn’t stay for us. How could you not stay for us?”

“I was lost. So lost. So alone.”

“But you weren’t alone. You had a family. And when we needed you the most, you walked out. You walked out and looked out for yourself. Why couldn’t you stay?”

“I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t strong enough. They told me I wasn’t good enough to be a father, and I didn’t even have the chance to prove anything. They told me that I wasn’t good enough.”

“So you listened? So you didn’t even try to prove them wrong?”

“They told me I wasn’t good enough… I knew I wasn’t gonna be a good dad, but having someone else tell you that you won’t be a good father…”

“So your solution was to leave us? Because someone told you that you weren’t going to be good enough?”

He hunched, shrinking in on himself. “I didn’t know what else to do. I had so much love in my heart to give, and I was just so hurt and so alone, and she was there… I couldn’t stay.”

His eyes fogged over with memories of a time when life had been so hard. She waited for that familiar curl of anger to heat her stomach and for resentment to ignite in her heart.

But there was nothing but pity for the pathetic, broken man in front of her.

“But I did.”

His eyes cleared as he stared at her. “What?”

“I stayed dad. I stayed. I didn’t have to. I could’ve killed myself. I was a child, and I could’ve ended it all. Nobody would’ve blamed me. But I didn’t. Do you know why? Because I couldn’t let another person walk out of my sisters’ lives. I would not let someone else leave. So I stayed. I stayed for them when you didn’t. And that choice made me into who I am today. So I guess I have you to thank for making me so strong.”

She stood as he gaped at her. No longer was he a formidable giant that she could never face. Now he was nothing but a man, an old, lonely man, broken by the weight of his foolish choices but too stubborn to accept that his misery was no one’s fault but his own.

But his choices had shaped her into who she was.

She had taken the pain, the despair, the loss, and then made her own choice.

She chose to stay.

And that made her strong.

Compassionate.

Determined.

She turned away, a burden slipping from her shoulders. A wheezing breath echoed through the room as she reached for the handle. As her fingers gripped the cold metal, she turned slightly.

“I made a choice a long time ago to stay,” she said quietly. “I have never regretted that decision. My only regret is that you do not. But I forgive you. Despite everything, I choose to forgive you.”

She left her forgiveness hanging in the air, ready for him to accept. But it was no longer her choice. She had made a choice a long time ago to stay for the good of others.

But now she chose to leave, leaving behind the shackles that had kept her in bondage for so long.

But now she chose to let go. Chose to release her resentment, hate, anger that had kept her tied down for so long.

And she didn’t look back.