The Daughter's Lament | TeenInk

The Daughter's Lament

February 16, 2011
By XAceMyHeartX72X BRONZE, Levittown, New York
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XAceMyHeartX72X BRONZE, Levittown, New York
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Favorite Quote:
I say what I want to say and do what I want to do. There's no in between. People will either love you for it or hate you for it.
-Eminem


Author's note: I've learneed one important thing in life-Actions speak louder than words; Sorry means nothing...Thanks to Dad

The author's comments:
Started off as just a rant but turned into this and i wanted to share it with you guys.

She sneered at him and threw nasty comments and let her emotions take the best of her. “Why? You want to know why?! Well lets see how can I talk to or even look at the man who left my mother and her two children one eight years old the other five, the man who frequently disappointed his two daughters by canceling shortly and abruptly after he would say that he would show up. The man who shows his feelings by hurting others not physically but emotionally. The man who lied he used excuses he had another family and didn’t even tell us until there was a new addition a baby girl. And that. That beautiful baby girl made all my hope that last string of hope I held onto break. Her being the little scissor to cut it. Then it hit me. My life would never be the same the next time I would be in a family portrait my mother and father would be in separate pictures smiling next to different people. The man I thought was my father,” he held back a sob and his hard, dark green eyes stared coldly. “a loving husband, a friend to many, a son, and a man who loved his family. Now where did that man become a lying, aggressive, bitter, hurtful man with no heart. Have you no heart? I know this hurts and I am sure you feel hurt that burns in your heart and I can relate. You gave me scars you may have not done it purposely but you gave me scars and those scars will never fade away. They are not like bruises. Bruises fade over time or cuts they fade over time as well leaving a small mark of blood but the blood dries up and fades away along with the cut and nothing is left but a memory. Cuts are memories which fade away into the back of your unconscious mind they hurt for sometime but heal, taking away the pain. But scars will forever hurt as you look at them and remember the story behind them.” but you need to let go of that she heard her mothers sweet, light comforting voice float through her mind speaking the words shes heard so many times before. But I can’t she answered silently I can’t. I’m sorry.

“Your mother is the one telling you these things. She’s telling you not to come with me. She’s keeping you away from me. Taking my money.” he said reciting the same speech he always did. That’s when she stopped listening and instantly become defensive as soon as he brought up the subject of her mother and money.

“Don’t. please don’t speak about my mother that way. She’s making no decisions for me or making me do anything or influencing me in anyway. And I don’t want to hear about my mother taking money away from you because that money you are giving to her is child support that money goes to my sister and I. And only my sister and I.” tears welled up in her eyes blurring her vision. Anger soared through her body her frame starting to tremble and she lifted her head to stare at the ceiling holding the tears back and soaking in this moment. She swallowed and wet her lips preparing to defend myself and her mother at any given moment he might say something wrong. “I know you don’t like my mother but please for once can you not talk badly about her or mention money? Is that all you think about money, money, money and more money?” it was a theoretical question. Of course he didn’t only think about that. He thought about her sister and her day, noon and night. While looking up at the ceiling in bed, eating breakfast, talking to his friends at work, when he comes home and heads to bed…He hurts and she knew that. They both do. A tear fell and streamed down her face and she clenched my teeth together feeling pain pinch and climb its way up her jaw as she clenched tighter and tighter.

“Why are you crying?” he asked his voice sounding husky, angry and full of aggravation sorrow secretly hidden behind it. “Stop crying. There’s nothing to cry about.” She kept her mouth closed and tightened her jaw so her teeth were clenched together so tight she could feel every pinch growing stronger and stronger. She loosened her jaw and began chewing on the inside of her cheek chewing at the flesh creating a small hole like the hole that was reopening in her chest opening old memories. Her hand immediately flittered over to her face and wiped away the tear and closed her eyes tight releasing all other tears. She wiped those away as well.

“I’m not crying.” She said barley opening her lips to even form the words it came out mumbled and drenched with sorrow. She burned with anger at the feeling. Thoughts ran through her mind and she snapped the elastic rubber band on her wrist only distracting her for a slight second. She swallowed. Hard. Why don’t you come over? Surrey misses you. She’s always saying ‘Josie, Josie‘. You know she can say Josie not Jodie anymore. And there’s a pool and we're starting to work on a race car with Rick. They’re gonna give it to us when they’re done and… Now my sister’s soft, loving, amusing voice slid inside her head. Guilt soared through her body and immediately tears welled up in her eyes preparing to fall down my cheeks cascading like a waterfall. She felt like apologizing. Apologizing over and over regretting the choice she made and reverse time. But she wouldn’t do that she will vow she will not do that. She’s one to hold up a wall, she will not back down. Apologizing? Why would she apologize if it was never her fault. She does not need to.

“I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go!” she sobbed suddenly tears falling on her lips and slipping in between allowing the wet salty liquid to land on her tongue and cover her lips. “I don’t want togo, I don’t wanna. Please don’t make me. I don’t feel comfortable. I don’t like Sandra all that much. There’s something about her I know she means well but I don’t feel like I know her and the stories she tells…” she ranted on. “I mean she says she’s my friend.”

“Stop crying. Stop crying, now. I can’t hear a thing your saying. I won’t talk to you until you stop crying.” she sniffled and another sob erupted from her chest as she remembered the tone of his voice as he had said this before or almost every time she cried to him about something. she placed her hands over her face and brushed her hands back pushing back her hair from her face. She was cautious and remembered. He hates when my hair is in my face. Her breathing was heavy and dripping with hurt, sorrow, fear, anger, guilt…Fear? Yes fear. She was afraid to upset him further it made her feel guilty and she knew she didn’t deserve to feel that when she had nothing to be guilty about.

“You know I remember you saying that to me when I was younger and I kept on crying. You looked at me as if you wanted to make me stop crying. But then one time you didn’t say anything because you were the one crying in the dark. I was the one to rush over to you but did I tell you to stop crying and I that I wouldn’t talk to you unless you stopped crying? No. I asked you why you were crying and held your head in my arms resting my face against your head and we ended up crying together before we were called for dinner.” but you probably don’t remember that she added inside her head. His eyes turned hard and cold again and started to soften almost a glazed look washing over them.

“There’s no reason to cry.” he said his voice cracking sounding almost hoarse like he was about to cry. His face was reddening all along his neck and ears. He still remained in the position he was in when he entered the small room which was the therapist‘s office. He had his elbows casually resting against his knees. His keys stuffed in his pocket along with small change and his wallet. She brought my bottom lip in between my teeth as she chewed thoughtfully on what he was going to say next and if she had upset him in anyway by bringing that memory up out of nowhere. He stayed silent. So she let out the anger deep inside she held that was slowly bleeding out from the hole in her chest.

“There is a reason! All you’ve done to me! I’ve said it over a thousand times! To everyone even my friends! I’ve told everyone everything about how you never came, the way you look at us sometimes when you’re yelling at my mother, when you get angry and end up leaving us behind or hurting us…mostly me.” she cleared her throat. “I don’t even think I can say anymore. I’m tired of telling everyone how I feel they never understand me. I’m starting to think not even the best educated physiatrists can cure me or erase the memories I hold!” a hysterical sobbed erupted from her.“You want to know something? Well hears something I’ve never told anyone. I joke about it sometimes but I think it’s for real. I truly believe I just might go insane if I hear you and my mother have another argument. I think I am going insane just having this happen to me. I have over a million reasons why I believe so, other subjects I wish to not touch that are not as important. But anyways my heart feels like it is ripping apart like I cant just be left alone and happy without parent drama. Is my life so screwed up? I appreciate all god gave me. I do I’m grateful everyday. But it’s just so much sometimes I feel like getting away just me to a place of emptiness where everything is quiet and I can dream my own world. A break from reality.” her voice was drenched in anger now breaking every so often revealing the little girl who still loved her father very much.

She wanted to see him happy and stay his little girl to have him laugh again and smile. And be positive no matter the situation he’s in. but I know better than that. He won’t change he has his reasons. But the little girl just doesn’t want her father to hurt and to know she’s the reason behind it. She wanted to be with her father and be in the garage with him fixing up cars like the other dad’s. she wanted to talk to him about college, writing, cars, monster trucks and jets. She wants him to be a part of her life but there’s a part of the grown young lady that’s stopping the little girl dead in her tracks reminding her of the past. The little girl then gets stuck and has nowhere to go so she hides into the back of the mind and will only appear when her father’s name is mentioned. The grown young lady just can’t let go. No she can’t she’s trying but there’s too much going on she thinks she has her mind set but she really doesn’t. She feels like she’s alone and the world is on her shoulders. Now she does not say this because all she receives in response from others is the same choice of wise words and sympathy. She wants neither what she wants is for someone to hear her out. Just hear her out and understand. She doesn’t want someone coughing back defensive comments after every little thing she says. And she doesn’t want to be talked at she wants to be talked to. That’s all she wants. Don’t give her presents. No she doesn’t want presents or anything like that she has everything already. She wants to be heard. Daddy’s little girl is trapped.

And now it is that Daddy’s little girl is being heard. She speaking out telling him what she feels. She’s crying and he’s soaking in the information. The image of a daughter and father together once again not quite understanding each other but comforting one another. She pulls away from the embrace for it only brings more hysterical tears that tear her chest with each sob. Her eyes stay tightly closed as she prepares for his words. The words that always end the entire conversation, monotone and short again draping guilt over me like a veil to hide my face. She dug her nails into her skin, she bit her lip, bounced her leg, snapped the rubber band against her wrist anything to distract her. Anything. She focuses on a small portrait of two cherry trees planted into the green meadow beneath with a rake leaning against the small, little sweet tree. Small flowers blooming detailed making the beauty of the painting stand out painted by Van Gough. She prepared for the worst and closed her eyes.“I don’t know what to say that. I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” he said his voice almost monotone.

“Don’t say anything. I know you have nothing to say to that just…soak it in. Think about it. Think about it.” and with that the therapist ended the session saying something about this being the start. That they just touched the surface of our history.

She thought this would be easier. I thought all our history was touched. She didn’t think she could say anymore. Next time is going to be the hardest…another minute speaking of the past when she should be thinking of the future. The man with light brown hair and receding gray hairs walked both of them out the door releasing both to start heading outside to his jeep where the Father and the daughter spoke no words. She felt tears well up in her eyes. This was the beginning. The beginning this emotional ride of ups and down was about to begin.



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