12 Years Ago

    “Why are mommy’s eyes closed?” I ask my daddy, tugging on his arm.

     He leans down and says, “Shhh”, and one of his tears falls on my face.

     “Daddy, why are you crying? Mommy’s just sleepin’”, I say tugging on his arm again.

     By now, everyone in the church is watching us, so is the pastor. My daddy kneels down in front of me and takes my hands.

     He takes a deep breath, and says, “Lyla, mommy’s eyes are closed forever. She’s not sleeping”, and then he buries his face in his hands and starts crying really hard.

     I turn and look at the pastor and say, “Mommy is sleepin’”, I pause and look at my mommy’s bed that has a lid and I yell to her, “Mommy, wake up!” She doesn’t move. I run over to her and stand on my tippy toes to reach inside and grab her hand. It is cold.

     “Mommy wake up!” I yell at her again, tugging on her arm. She still doesn’t move.

     “Mommy wake up! It’s not funny. Wake up, mommy wake up!”

     I feel my daddy come behind me and lift me. I grip my mommy’s hand harder, “No! No! No! I have to wake mommy up!” Then, he pulls harder and her hand slips out of mine. I start crying and hug my daddy saying, “Mommy won’t wake up. She looks like she’s sleepin’, but she won’t wake up.”

Present

     I am awakened from my nap to the sound of the front door slamming. My father is home.

    “Lyla!”

    “Coming!” I yell back.

     With a sigh, I slip out of bed and go out into the hallway. I slowly walk down it into the kitchen to where my father is. He looks up at me from his place at the table and sneers.

     “Took your sweet time getting here.”

     “What do you want?” I ask.

     “For you to make me some supper”, he answers me shaking his head like I’m an idiot.

     “We don’t have anything to cook.”

     In flash, he is up and smacking me hard across the cheek. I fall and land on the floor on my back. He gets down onto his knees, straddling my abdomen. I look up at the stained ceiling.

     My father leans down and whispers in my ear, “Do you want me to teach you a lesson like I did last time you got smart with me?”

     I shudder. No, I don’t want that. I’d rather be smacked. “Ok, I’ll find something.”

     “Good”, he says, then gets off of me and walks out of the room.

     I stand up and get to work. I start opening all of the cupboards searching for anything edible. Finally, I get to the last cupboard and my hands are shaking. Please let there be something, I beg to no one in particular. I open it and a sigh escapes. There is one box of mac and cheese. I grab it and in no time, it is ready.

     “Dad! Supper is ready!” I yell.

     He comes into the kitchen and I set a bowl down in front of him. Once he is seated, I get a small serving for myself and sit at the table with him. For whatever reason, he has always insisted that we sit at the table together for meals. He eats quickly and stands up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with malice for a moment, and then he is gone. Of course, I know that he is going to the bar.

     I wait a few minutes at the table to make sure that he didn’t forget anything. Then I stand up and head to my room. I open a drawer on my nightstand and reach in to grab a small box that holds an answer to my future. I pray that it is in agreement with me.

     I leave my room and head for the bathroom. I slip one of the tests from the box. Please don’t be positive, I think, I pray. When I am finished, I hold it up to my face and it slips from my fingers, bouncing on the floor a couple times. It reads positive.

     No... no.. no. I can’t be pregnant. I’m only eighteen, I think, shaking my head back and forth as I back out of the bathroom, my vision blurring as the tears fall. I make it to my room and I fall on my bed sobbing, hating myself for hating the child that was conceived from hate and for the hopelessness of the situation. Gradually, I stop crying, until I am an empty shell. There is only one thought in me, I should close my eyes forever, like mama. I lay there until the last of evening is gone. With my decision made, I get up.

     I enter the kitchen and walk over to the knife drawer and pull out the tool to help me close my eyes, forever. I hold the tip of the knife to my abdomen. The coldness of it reaches deep inside of me. I apply pressure and…. I let the knife slip from my fingers and it falls, clattering on the floor. I drop to my knees, sobbing all over again. I can’t condemn an innocent child for someone else’s sin. I can’t do it. I’m sorry mama, but I must carry on for the child. With that thought in mind, I get up, the tears still falling gently down my cheeks, and sneak into my father’s room. 

     I find the tin that he keeps his money in and I take a handful. I leave his room and head for the front door of our small house. I reach out and take the handle, turn it and open the door. I step through the threshold and turn to look back. I think back to the time when my father still loved me. When he was kind. When he cared about me. That is how I will remember him.

     “I forgive you”, I say to the empty house.

     Now I am free.