I crossed my arms over my chest and shrugged. “None of your business.”
That was enough to send Dad over the cliff as he started shouting. He tossed his arms up in irritation, asking me if I was doing drugs, or drinking, or getting in trouble. He started saying how disappointed he was in me, how frustrated he was with the whole situation. He yelled, hollered, and raged.
I fought back, too, because the more we shouted, the more alive I felt. It had been so long since I’d felt anything. It was going well, our screaming match, until my heart felt so overwhelmed by all the emotions I’d worked hard to pack down deeply. It was all too much, having it all fly out at the speed it was shooting, so I snapped.
“Dad, stop,” I cried out, my voice cracking like a branch. It wasn’t anger I felt toward him anymore. I was only left with heartbreak. We never yelled at each other. Not the old us, at least. “Please,” I said as tears welled up in my eyes. I didn’t want to cry in front of him. I couldn’t.
He took a few deep breaths before his voice dropped to a low whisper as he said, “You’ve been skipping school, Karla. Do you know how irresponsible—” His voice cut off, as if the syllables splintered and got stuck in his throat. His chest rose and fell as he took a few deep breaths. When he released them, I could tell he wasn’t angry anymore, either. It was something heavier, something that made him appear smaller, even with his broad shoulders.
Maybe we weren’t angry at each other.
Maybe we were both just sad.
There was a long beat of silence after his words faded away. The air between us felt thin, as if it would slice us into pieces if we moved too quickly. His shoulders slumped down. He couldn’t even look at me anymore as his hands dropped to his sides. His whole persona deflated like a withered balloon. All that was left was our unstable energy in the space.
When he finally looked toward me, I didn’t see him as my dad, just a lost human who was trying his best. His eyes were glassy and tired.
My heart pounded at a speed that made me think I was on the verge of a heart attack. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hug him and say sorry for being a standing memory of everything that he’d lost. I wanted to apologize for being the reason his wife was dead. I wanted to fall at his feet and tell him I was so fucking sorry for all the pain I’d caused him. He was failing Lorelai and me as our father, but for a moment I didn’t blame him for that, because I was failing him as his daughter, too.
His hand lifted as if he was about to reach out for me, but then it fell uselessly back to his side.Try again, Dad. Reach out for me. Please. I need you to come for me first. Then I’ll fall back into you, too.Instead, he scrubbed his hands over his face and whispered, “I don’t know how to do this, Karla.”
“Me either, Dad,” I softly replied.
When he brought his stare back to mine, I saw the same sadness I was living with staring back at me. We were both too broken.
His head lowered once more.
Everything stilled.
I didn’t even bother to breathe. Breaths felt pointless in such a heavy situation.
Dad’s mouth parted once more and he said, “I’m sorry I yelled. I’m not mad at you.” His voice was quieter. “I love you, Karla. I love you, and I’m...” He took the deepest of breaths. “I’m just...” His eyes flashed with tears, and unlike me, he allowed his own to fall. “I’m just so fucking scared of losing you, too.”
For a moment, neither of us moved. We were two broken pieces of the same DNA, staring at each other from across an invisible line of grief and guilt.
Then Dad turned and walked away, leaving me still frozen in place.
He loved me?
Still?
But how?
How could he love me after all I’d done?
Those words hit me harder than any lecture ever could. For a while, I thought the love he had for me died the day Mom took her final breath. Because I caused it. I caused the accident. I was the reason...
“Stop it, Lorelai!” I shouted. “Daaaad! Tell Lorelai to stop touching my seat belt!” I screamed as the snow shone through the headlights of the car.
I shook my head to stop the memories of the last day I saw my mother, and I headed to my closet. I slammed the door shut and cried into Mom’s clothes, wishing her arms were the ones wrapping around me and not just the sleeves of her dresses. I wanted to still be angry at my father, because that felt easier than feeling sad for him. He was my dad—my once-upon-a-time superhero. He was supposed to have the answers to life. He was supposed to notice when I was drowning. But somehow three weeks had passed by, and he didn’t even see the depths of my hurt because he was too busy fighting the currents ofhis own storm. Maybe that was the hardest thing for me to realize—my father wasn’t Superman. He was just a man. A broken man who lost his wife and was struggling to keep hold of his daughters.
Still, knowing that didn’t make it easier for me. If anything, it made it harder.
I cried in my closet for what felt like hours. It wasn’t until later that my closet door opened, and I saw Lorelai standing there. She was wearing her butterfly wings and holding her favorite teddy bear, Ms.Maisie. Lorelai used to be afraid to sleep in her own room, so Mom gave her Ms.Maisie to help keep Lorelai and her dreams safe at night.
“Karla?” Lorelai whispered with her eyes wide with concern. “Are you OK?”
No one was allowed in my closet, but I knew in that moment I had to let my little sister in. I sat up and wiped away my tears. I tried to push out a fake smile, but it fell quickly. “Yeah, squirt. I’m OK.”
