“Tara,” Tilly, a nurse who is much too friendly and motherly for my liking, brought me back to reality from my people watching.
I looked up, unsmiling, "Yes?"
“A pretty woman like you should be smiling,” she said sweetly.
I gritted my teeth, I didn’t feel pretty. I didn’t want to smile. I felt nothing. There was a time when I looked in the mirror and loved what I saw. I didn’t anymore.
“What exactly do I have to smile about, Tilly?” My gaze was hard, unrelenting.
“That you’re alive, beautiful child. Enough about that though, it’s time for physical therapy, and boy are you in for a treat.” She smiled, changing the subject.
The world was full of fucking optimists, and they made me sick as hell. See the glass half full Tara. This is only a season, it too shall pass.
I rolled my eyes and stared blankly as she approached my bed. Another nurse came up behind her, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. The nurse reached down and set the brakes, opening the footrest. They lowered my bed with one of those remotes and heaved their breaths as they lifted me until they had me seated in the wheelchair.
Who was I?
Tara Craig. Cripple. Some called me a miserable pessimist, but I liked to think I was an optimist in a raincoat. I was realistic enough to understand that the storm would come in its own time, and I preferred to be ready for it.
Chapter 2
Tara
Nine-years-old
"Ican't do this anymore, Sarah. I can't sit around waiting for you to stop, for you to decide that us, this family, is important. I work my ass off, and what do you do? You throw it in my face over and over again."
“Then leave, Simon! Why don’t you just leave?” she asked coldly. She looked at him with so much hatred and disregard. I don’t have to be a grownup to understand what that is like, it was the same way she looked at me. Like I was something she wished she could get rid of..
“I think it’s about bloody time.” he hissed, his fist clenched at his side.
I couldn’t stay quiet any longer. I had to say something. My dad could not leave me. Not with her. I bolted up from my place at the top of the stairs and ran down the stairs yelling at the top of my lungs.
"Daddy, don't leave me, please," I didn't care that my mom would be angry with me. When I heard them shouting, I knew that it was serious this time because he never raises his voice. The arguments are usually one-sided. I thought of my mother as a fire breathing dragon, and my father a panda. He was calm and kind, always trying to keep the peace in our home.
He kneeled down, tears in his eyes.
"I don't really have a choice, baby girl," he whispered, running his hands through my long, brown hair. "I can't stay here, but I promise to see you all the time. I promise. We'll work it out, you trust me, right?"
"Please…" the tears streamed down my cheeks as I threw my arms around his thick neck, taking in the scent of his aftershave. He wouldn't walk out on me, he wouldn't. He was my hero, and he promised that we would be together forever. "I trust you, Daddy."
"Tara! Get back upstairs." my mother's voice was angry and ugly. She hated it when I chose him over her. It's what she always said. That I was an ungrateful, little brat who didn't deserve her.
I ignored her, focusing my attention on the man kneeling in front of me.
“Daddy,” I whispered. “She – she doesn’t like me very much.”
"Of course she does, she's your Mommy, Princess. She loves you," he whispered, wiping the tears which had started to trail down my cheeks with his thumb.
I wished I could believe that, but I couldn’t. She’s never home. Daddy is the one that takes care of me. He’s the one who loves me.
"Tara! I will not speak again." I looked over my shoulder, and she stood with her arms crossed in front of her.
He unwrapped my arms from around his neck, placing a kiss on each one and then another one on my forehead as he stood.
"I'll see you soon, Princess. I love you, Tiara," that was our unique name. I was his crown, his jewel, the centerpiece of his life, he'd told me. He ruffled my hair and smiled down at me.
He took one last glance at my mother who stood rigidly behind me. I watched as he walked out of our house, not knowing it would be the last time I ever saw him.
