“Hi baby girl. It’s your dad.” He was too friendly. Shit this was going to mean a weepy phone call. He’d tell me how much he’d missed my mom, and wished they’d never divorced. “Err, uh hi dad.” God my internal organs were burning, because I referred to him as my dad. It was only when he was in my presence. George, mom’s new husband was my dad. My parents divorced when I was 16, separated when I was 8. It wasn’t soon enough. They should have never married from the beginning of their relationship. It was finalized August 1st, 2000. George had been part of my life, when I had some of the hardest struggles to overcome.
“So …I was wondering,’ He paused. The sound of another beer can opening indicated why he went quiet. I sighed, “Hello? I need,” He started again, “Sorry was getting something to drink.” Sure you were I thought to myself without commenting aloud. “So how have you been princess?” Seriously I’m fucking a grown woman. Princess isn’t a title I’ve been called since I was a kid, let alone only George was allowed to use that term. Not since I was a child has he used it. He respects me too much. “So how have you been? I miss hearing you on the radio. I was on the highway today. I saw the spot where the accident was. I’m so sorry. Now Amy she would be,” He paused because he couldn’t remember. He didn’t have it all together. He was able to keep down a job, pay his rent, and keep fueling his addictions, but that was it. “Do we really need to have his conversation?” He started to cry, and I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Princess, Esme come on. Don’t be like that. Please I’m your dad.” My finger hovered over the END button. I could see the red capital letters in my head. “Listen I need to go.” He pleaded, “Esme,” I pulled the phone away from my ear. “Bye.” I quickly hung up, and put the phone back in its cradle sighing.
I walked back into the kitchen, and grabbed a donut shop k-cup, and popped it in my Keurig. I grabbed a coffee mug, and put it underneath the spout. I hit the button for it to brew, while pulling out the half & half. I leaned against the counter looking around the kitchen. Amy’s highchair sat in the corner untouched. It still held her bib on the tray, and a towel on the back of it. The Keurig sputtered; alerting me it was done brewing. I grabbed he coffee mug, and headed into the sun room. I set it down carefully, and pulled out an old journal from high school. I pulled the Doctor Who blanket I’d bought Scott, off the back of the couch. I wrapped myself up in it, and got comfortable.
August 1, 2000
Well it’s official. After seventeen years, my mother is finally free! Free of the last name, which she once shared with that drunk. Luckily I took George’s last name. I was not Esme Evenson. My mom and George had been together since I was eight. So now she is no longer bound to Captain Asshat. She can now marry George my dad. God that was too long. Lucky my mom signed a prenup before marrying my sperm donor. Yes it sound’s cruel, but he never treated me right. He stole from her while they were married. He would have screwed her in the divorce, anyone would have known that. The names he called me, while he had me for the two nights a week she allowed. I didn’t tell anyone, because I didn’t want my mother getting in trouble. Now she’s upset because I never told her. She’s trying family therapy, but the woman ugh. She just drowns on about all the daddy issues I have. No not daddy issues. When you’re called a whore it doesn’t warm one’s heart. What else to write about? I can’t tell my parents about Charles. I wear my bracelets so they can’t see any marks.
I set the journal down, and picked up my coffee mug. I sipped it slowly. My brain, and emotions absorb what I’d just read. I pulled up my sleeves, and could see the faded discoloration of skin. They were lighter than the rest of my skin. My fingers gently grazed across the puckered edges. That urge was back once again. It had been almost five years since the last time. I tried too hard to ignore it. I couldn’t give in and do it. I left the room, with my coffee mug in hand and returned to the kitchen. I made another cup of coffee. When I went to retrieve the half and half, I found a nip of Bailey’s Irish Cream. I decided to add it to my coffee. Once my coffee finished brewing, I retreated upstairs.
I walked into Amy’s room, sitting down in the rocking chair. I looked at her crib. I remembered the night she had a fever after her shots. I gave her Tylenol, but she was miserable. Scott was on the computer looking up different things to try to sooth her. I was rocking her gently. She cuddled close to me, as I sung softly. Scott brought up two folded wash cloths. “There are instant hand warmers inside. Go lay down in bed with her. Keep them on her thighs, and tuck her in with a blanket. I will be right back.” He kissed both of us, and slipped out. I came back out of the day dream, and stood up. Before leaving her room, I shut off the lamp on her bureau, and turned on her flower nightlight, then left.
I sat down on the floor outside her room, pulling my knees to my chest. The coffee mug sat on the floor beside me. Here it stars again. The song starts to play, in bits in pieces in my head. Why though. Jesus not like I’ve not suffered enough. Why does God do this to us.
Here I am waiting
I’ll have to leave soon
Why am I holding on?
We knew this day would come
We knew it all along
How did it come so fast?
Scott held my hand, he just looked at me. The song continued to play. I remember wishing the car battery would die already. Shut the god damn song off I yelled in my head. “This is my last glance that will soon be a memory.” Scott smiled. “No don’t say that. We’re going to be ok.” I couldn’t see Amy. She was quiet. I just thought she’d slept through all of this. The clatter of the coffee mug brought me back to reality, as my hand knocked it over. The daylight had come, and they both had to go.