The Pain He Caused Me

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

He left me. He left me all alone with this pain. Doesn't he love me? HE LEFT ME! Am I not important anymore? He left me, a six-year-old, without a father to love me. How could he do this to me? I'm
broken. Help me. Please tell me what you think!

Submitted: February 24, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 24, 2017




“Goodbye.” Those were the last words I heard from him before the phone went dead. Tears rushed down my rosy cheeks as my screams echoed in the square room. “Please, don’t leave me!” I had hoped he would have called me in the few days after the call but my hopes soon diminished. I’ve been avoiding school since that day as I haven’t the courage to face the people I care most about with a fake smile pretending that nothing is wrong. I barely sleep at night, my dreaming mostly of him coming home to me. When I wake I realize that they are all but a fantasy. My tears have long been used up so my wailing has not ended in a saturated pillow. My worrying mother hopes that I get over him, returning to the happy self I was before all this. She wants me to talk to a specialist thinking it would help but she must understand the only I need is him. I am aware that is impossible, for he is not allowed to return to my side.

It has been weeks since the tragic phone call, I’ve gotten better at hiding my sobbing so my mother doesn’t know but my dreams have only gotten worse as they have become even more realistic. I still refuse my going to school so my mother has made it her duty to collect the work I have missed. I think my mother feels that she is responsible for him leaving but that is where she is wrong. It was his fault. It was his fault he had to leave. It was his fault to cut off all contact with me. It was his fault for all my tears, my wailing, my nightmares, and quite possibly my downfall. IT WAS HIS FAULT FOR MY CONSTANT PAIN. Mother believes that it is wise to inform the rest of my family the condition that I am in but only after hours of pleading did she finally give in to promise not to tell.

It has been a month, my dreams have gotten better and my tears have come less.  On most days, I remain in bed refusing to participate in any physical activities but the only time I get out of bed is to get food into my system. Today I was doing what I have been doing since he left, laying in my bed as my blanket hugs me, that was until a knock sounded upon my door. My mother, not waiting for me to allow her entrance, barged in with a small spring in her feet and a phone in her hands. I about asked why she was here when she suddenly shoved the phone into my five-year-old hands, the caller ID was “Unknown.”

“Hello,” I whispered into the speaker. I was unsure of who the person on the other end was until they started to speak.

“Hey, cookie monster!” It was a male voice that sounded just like daddy. He even called me the nickname daddy used to call me. I pulled the phone my ear and stared at it in disbelief. It couldn’t be him, right? Yeah, it was probably someone who sounded just like daddy but how did know my nickname?

I put the phone back to my ear, “... Daddy?” My voice quivered in uncertainty. I wanted, with all my heart, to believe that it was him but, after a month of disappointment, I just couldn’t bring myself to believe.

“Well, of course, it’s daddy! Who else calls you ‘cookie monster’?” He chuckled into the phone. In the background, Hispanic music was blaring and it was hard to hear him.

“Daddy! Where are you? When are you coming home? Can I see you?” Before I realized, I was shooting question after question as Un Beso by Aventura played in the background.

“Slow down, Cookie monster! A man can only answer one question at a time.” I stopped questioning him long enough for him to speak. “Okay, my answer to the first question, I’m in my home country. The second question, I’m not coming home. I have to stay here.” I tried to question him again about why he left but my voice was almost inaudible as the music grew louder. “For your last question, you come visit me when you get older, okay?” Still speechless, I produced a small understanding yelp. I sat there for a good five minutes before I felt a hand on my shoulder. Oh, right! I had forgotten mother was still in the room, casting my glossy eyes toward her, I was surprised at her appearance. Her usually radiant smile was fading and her cocoa orbs were lined with inky bags like she barely slept at all. Her dyed-chestnut tresses were in a sloppy bun. Did I cause this? Is she like this because of me? I, about to ask her, remembered that daddy was still on the phone.

“Daddy,” I whispered to which he hummed a response, “Why did you leave me and mommy all alone?” Even though I couldn’t see him, I could feel him stiffen.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but I can’t tell you. Not right now at least. Wait until you’re older.” Why does everyone think a kid can't handle the truth?!

“Bull crap! You don't want me to know because you think I wouldn’t love you anymore!” I bellowed as I was so tired of adults treating me as a child, even if I am. I waited for him to deny my accusation towards him but he was silent. I guess my theory I was right.

“Why can’t you tell me the reason you as my daddy left me all alone? Not even a single phone call!” I was still greeted with silence as the song changed. “Why won’t you give me an answer?! Do you feel ashamed, is that it? Ashamed that you, my own FATHER, decided that the best way to tell me that he was leaving and never back was over the phone! Do you know the pain you caused me this past month? No, of course, you don’t because you never once called! I was stupid enough to shed so many tears for you! I thought I was the reason you left us, left me, that you didn’t want me!” I felt my tears make their journey down my chubby cheeks as my mother’s hand went up and down my back, trying to soothe my pain. Again he produced only silence, not even trying to cease my ranting, almost like he wanted me to perceive him as the villain. “Daddy! Please answer me?!” After my five minutes of ranting, he still remained soundless. I realized that during my rant he had hung up as I could no longer hear the music. It was then that I had finally snapped.

My wailing grew louder and my anger erupted like a volcano. I threw the phone into the wall in front of me and watched it shatter. “ Honey, calm down. Everything’s going to be okay.” My mother tried to put a stop to my anger before I hurt myself but my anger turned to her causing me to unintentionally snap at her.

“No! Everything’s not going to be okay! My father has hung up on me twice without so much as an explanation! How is that okay?” I yelled at her while I continued to throw and break the items in my room. “Why? Why? Why? WHY?! Why did he leave? Why did he hang up on me? Why does he not love me anymore? Have I done something? I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I promise I’ll be a good girl!” No matter how much I pleaded, I knew it was over but I didn’t want to give up! “Come home, please, daddy! Don’t leave me!”

After a little while, my rage depleted, leaving me broken in the middle of my trashed room. I collapsed upon the pale carpet beneath me, not caring that my knees were being stabbed with shattered glass, hoping my broken heart would soon melt away into the abyss. My mother, worried about my safety and health, called the paramedics as she saw my knees along with my legs begin to bleed. I was in the hospital for a week as they thought my depression would take a turn for the worst. My family, from both sides, visited me every day wishing good recovery. They didn’t say it but I knew my mother told them about the past month, their eyes were filled with pity. When they declared that well enough, I was finally able to go home.

“Sweetie,” my mother, who had relinquished her right to speaking to me since I was admitted, mumbled the moment we entered the house. “You know that daddy leaving had nothing to do with you, right?” I knew she wanted me to say no but I just couldn’t lie to the woman who was there for me in my time of need, it wouldn’t feel right. I nodded my head casting my eyes to the tiled floor of our kitchen. My mother unexpectedly seized my shoulders within her pale fingers then whirled me around so I was facing her but my eyes were still glued to the floor. She gently grasped my chin, lifting it to meet her muddy orbs and dropped to the floor. “It was not your fault. Don’t blame yourself for something that you had no control over.” She pulled me into a tight hug, instantly filling me with warmth, and tears silently cascaded down my cheeks.

“How do you know?” I whimpered into the crevice her neck letting my salty tears drop upon her milky white skin. She replied with the same sentence as her own tears splashed onto my shirt. “It was not your fault.” We sat there and cried for what felt like hours. Letting out all out built-up frustration and anger.

Looking back, I remember how grateful I was to have a mother like her. She understood that I needed my space and she tried to soothe my pain any way she could. The next day, I gathered up all my courage and to school. My friends were so worried about me and kept asking if I was okay. I replied with a smile, a real smile, “Never been better.”

Now, I stand here, with the rest of the women,  wearing a teal blue bridesmaids dress, tears prickling the corners of my eyes. Watching my mother walk down the sandy aisle, looking happier than I’ve ever seen her, was the best moment of my life. After all that has with my dad, I’m glad my mother has found her happiness in the man she wants to spend the rest of her life with. ( If he hurts her in any way, I’m gonna make him unable to urinate.)


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