Why the Sun is the Only Star in the Sky
By Maisi McIntyre
It was quiet and the park was rather empty today, only a few gray clouds in sight, but the weather report did call for thunderstorms later in the evening. So hopefully I would be out of here by then. I had been dreading this day mostly because for the last twelve years of my life I had been strictly avoiding it. And what made matters worse…I would be doing this alone.
It was twenty minutes past noon, which meant I had ten minutes to get my crap together, to brace for impact as I delivered what could potentially be a fatal blow. I kept checking my phone wondering if he texted me if he was on his way, but he hadn’t.
I took a deep breath. Stop being a coward, I thought to myself, you’re twenty years old, you can have a conversation with your dad, seriously man up. It’s just a casual day in the park. It was quiet with no kids on the playground today. Those were the days…when dad would take my sister and I to the park; we would spend hours upon hours there, and of course, get ice cream after. Every weekend, when it was nice out, it would just be the three of us since mom worked the night shift and slept during the day. Sometimes, if we were good, we’d go out to dinner beforehand. As my sister and I have gotten older, we don’t go on weekend trips to the park or go out for ice cream. We never do anything just the three of us anymore. Not since my dad remarried, and our family (unwillingly) grew.
I heard a car pulling up, and soon enough I could see his silver Toyota pickup truck bouncing up and down on the rocky road. My hands were all sweaty, and my heart was beating way too fast.
He was alone which is what I asked for. I didn’t need an audience, and to be honest, if anyone else was here that I didn’t bring, I would probably end up backing out. When he got out of the car he didn’t wave or smile. He was wearing his typical Steelers hat with the sunglasses on top of the visor; he was dressed casual in jeans and his Mayview Prison jacket he got after the state closed it down, an outfit I had seen him in many times when he picked us up after school.
I waited until he stood right in front of me to say “Hi.”
He nodded and gave me a small smile, then sat down on the other side of the picnic table facing me.
This was the first time I had seen him in about two months due to busy schedules and lack of communication. He looked rough. His beard had grown out longer than I had ever seen it, his eyes didn’t hold any sign of happiness like he hadn’t laughed or smiled in months. He looked skinnier too, not as full, as if he hadn’t been working out or eating regularly like he always did. Was I the cause of this? Am I selfish for thinking that I did this to him? Do I even have that kind of power anymore? I didn’t think so.
“How have you been?” he asked. His voice was deeper, raspier.
“Good, what about you?”
“Good.”
We stayed silent, neither one of us knowing what to say, which wasn’t out of the ordinary. We didn’t have anything to talk about two months ago either, so why would this time be any different? Even dinner conversations were always a constant struggle, but when we did talk it would always be about him and his family. My sister and I gave up trying to make small talk which meant that we stopped talking all together. Everyone stopped putting effort into our already broken relationship. Except he was the only one that didn’t notice the silence until it was too late.
Things used to be so good; everyday was like a weekend trip to the park. When he got remarried everything changed. One minute was I part of a family and the next thing I knew I wasn’t. My stepmom was like what every traditional fairytale made them out to be, cruel and wicked. She did not like us, and we certainly did not like her. She was the root of the problem, the destruction, the twister that ripped my family apart. And if she didn’t like us that meant we weren’t apart of the family. My sister and I were outcasted, sent into exile, and my dad just sat there and let it happen. That is why we’re here, having this conversation whether he realizes it or not.
“I wanted to talk to you about something…” I pause. “I don’t really know how to go about this. I don’t want to make it any harder than it has to be.” I started out slow, not really knowing what I wanted to say to him. I should’ve written bullet points.
“I don’t understand….” That’s part of the problem.
“I don’t think…” There is no way of sugar-coating this, so just rip the Band-Aid off. “I don’t think you should be part of my life anymore.”
When he didn’t say anything, I continued. “Things have been really rough lately, and I don’t see it getting any better.” He was silent, unmoved. “We’ve been fighting the same battle for more than ten years, and I don’t think there’s a different outcome.”
“Is this what you want?” I turned away and focused on the empty swing set. I could picture my sister laughing as he pushed her to go higher and higher. Of course, this wasn’t what I wanted! But I’ve been in a constant cycle of chaos for so long that I needed it to stop. I’ve been in and out of limbo so many times that I didn’t know where to go or what to do anymore.
“I think it’s the best solution.” Is all I said.
“I don’t want that. I want to be in your life. I want to be around.”
I had gone through this argument time and time again in my head, and each time there was a different outcome. My sister, Elizabeth, didn’t have this problem because she already ripped that band-aid off; she ripped it off years ago. She had enough of the broken promises and the empty gestures. She was fed up with the disaster that is this family.
So, no one really mentioned her at family gatherings anymore; they never asked why she never came around or what she’s up to now. They probably knew better, and they also knew that no one would know what she’s doing now. She completely cut his side out of her life, and I couldn’t blame her when I’m about to do the same thing.
After Elizabeth left things were never the same. Our dad was never the same, and now sitting across from him breaks my heart because this isn’t going to be fast and painless like my sisters. She told him how it was going to be and didn’t leave any room for him to talk or explain. But I need him to talk, to fight, because for my whole life he had never once fought for me. I needed a fight more than I needed him.
“I know you do, and I’ve been trying so hard to make everything work but it always ends the same. You care more about your other family than you do us. You put them before us….” Does he see it? Am I even making sense? “I mean for God’s sake we don’t even get invited to anything anymore. No weekend trips, no family vacations. I feel like an outsider every time I’m around.” I paused to stop myself, but eighteen years of pent up feelings just kept coming. “I have always felt like I had to share you with them and that’s not fair. I shouldn’t have to. Not when I grew up with friends who didn’t have to share their dads.” I forced myself to stop, to give him room to talk.
We sat in silence until he said, “That wasn’t intentional. I never meant to stop inviting you or your sister. I never meant to make you feel like I don’t choose you.”
I shook my head. “I feel like I am constantly fighting to be in this family, I’m constantly fighting for your attention. I do everything in my power to make you proud, but now I don’t know how to do that anymore. I don’t think I care to.”
Say something else! Say that I am a part of this family, say you’re sorry, say anything. “I’ve been trying so hard to see the good in this situation, but it’s as if we take one step forward and ten steps back.”
I bite back my tears. I will not cry in front of him. I will not break down in front of him. “I don’t want to have to give up this side of me. I don’t want to say goodbye to you. But I can’t keep acting like everything is okay when it’s not.”
He unfolded his hands and wiped them on his jeans. He was sweating and the hat he was wearing was doing a good job of hiding it. “Emily, I’m so so sorry that I haven’t been there for you or sister. That I haven’t made you guys feel included. I don’t want to lose you too. I—” he stopped.
“You know I don’t even talk about you to my friends? They don’t know you. They don’t know your name. They don’t know about the mental and emotional abuse you have put, not only me, but Elizabeth through.” All the years of the mind games, of the trust issues, of feeling not being good enough. I’ve had it.
I took a deep breath. I didn’t mean for these things to sound so harsh, but there’s no other way to put it. I’ve kept everything buried so far inside of me that it began to feel comfortable there. I let him and his family walk all over me for far too long, and I’ve had enough of it. There wasn’t an easy way out anymore.
This was how it had to be. I just couldn’t believe it took me so long to realize it; I never anticipated him putting up a fight because he had never fought for me or my sister. It had always been us doing the fighting, fighting for time, fighting to stay relevant, fighting to catch a glimpse of the dad we knew before everything started to slowly fall apart, the one who would make time for us and call us on the phone when we hadn’t talked for a while.
“I’m so sorry, Emily.” He said after quite some time.
“Is that all you have to say?” I asked, hoping my attitude wasn’t peeking through, but I couldn’t help it. I was expecting so much more. I was expecting him to be outraged, distraught, anything but how calm he’s been.
Another moment of silence passed. Just as I thought. “After this, you are never going to see me again, and you have nothing more to say to me?”
“Anything I say is not going to be what you want to hear.” And for the first time in a really long time I actually believed him. I’ve built this moment up too much in my head that anything he said wouldn’t comfort me. It’s like I said, one step forward ten steps back.
“Then I guess we’re done here.”
He didn’t say anything as he got up to leave, but his hands shook as he got up from the table. I knew this wasn’t what he wanted, it’s not what I wanted. But it was necessary.
I didn’t get up with him, but I watched as he walked slowly back to his truck and got in. I was almost tempted to stop him and take back everything I had said, but I knew there was no taking it back. I couldn’t undo the past as much as I knew we both wanted to. Part of me wanted him to turn around, to get out of the truck and explain how we ended up like this, why he stopped trying, why he won’t be seeing either one of his daughters walk down the aisle, why he won’t hold his grandchildren, and why, after everything he had put me through, I still can’t hurt him like he hurt me.
His truck bounced up and down on the rocky road as he drove away. After the sound of the engine disappeared, I decided that it was finally time to go.
