Hallmark Moment

9-5 Damnation

Glassy, dull hazel eyes met mine and listlessly drifted away. They rested deep within the carved and contoured vestige of a once familiar face. His fingers moved in front of him, typing on a non-existent keyboard. He mimed the endless tapping he’d learned to allow consume his day-to-day life. Punishment through muscle memory. I wondered if it felt like hell.

Diagnosed with terminal cancer two years prior, respite was found only in a sixth month remission period. Now, we were at the end of his days. On Earth, maybe. None of us were actively religious. My sisters were both baptized but not practicing. I was neither baptized nor practicing. He’d met with a priest recently, Catholic. I wondered what he confessed.

Three Months

The messenger was already shot.

He sat on the living room couch, hands folded. The thinning top of his salt and pepper gray hair became visible as his head bent down.

I don’t remember what he said. I only remember how it felt. Unable to breathe, I bent over downwards and clutched at my stomach. It hurt. Gasping sobs shot out of my lungs, but I can’t remember if I was crying. I don’t think I felt tears. Pushing myself back upwards, I was able to breathe out a few words.

“I’m really going to miss you.”

Big Teddy Bear

My closest companion as a young child was a small stuffed animal-blanket teddy bear with my full name embroidered on the bottom. I’d had him since birth. I swore that he’d be buried with me, that Teddy would have a seat of honor in my coffin.

At the time, I thought he was alive, that his feelings matched and mirrored mine. My older sister Kacey never imprinted on a stuffed animal like that. She thought it was funny, something to play around with and treat like an object.

As a prank, Kacey wanted to put a diaper on Teddy’s head. She told me it was dirty, and I fought to keep my best friend away from something so disgusting. In the midst of our brawl, his head was ripped off of the blanket body, hanging on by a few threads. I bellowed and cried in grief, furious and heartbroken that my sister had killed Teddy.

My dad ran into the room to check on us, and picked me up to ask what was wrong. His startled confusion was met with tears and a stuttered explanation on Teddy’s demise. My mom wasn’t around, so he had to take it into his own hands to perform the alchemy of threading Teddy’s life back together.

He set me back down and promised that Teddy would make it, he just needed a few minutes alone to concentrate. I sat patiently. Kacey sulked in the corner and admitted that the diaper hadn’t been dirty, and she’d just wanted to mess with me.

After an eternity, my dad brought back a healed Teddy. I hugged him and pulled Teddy close to my chest. He’d taken the time to match the thread color. I didn’t care about the large sloppy stitches that pulled and puckered the blanket together, giving the head a quizzical tilt. My dad had done it, he’d saved Teddy’s life.

Purgatory

I ran downstairs to the scraping sounds of my dad’s hollow yelling. Not quite a yell, it hardly traveled halfway up the stairs. A croak, maybe.

“Rae, please, towel, Rae.”

As I walked in he looked at me for a moment, brow pursed in an involuntary frown, and turned slightly away. Applesauce was spilled on his shirt and he needed a towel to clean it up.

“I want your mother, you can get her. Don’t worry, just get her.”

“No I can find one, here, uh, just wait I’ll get it.”

I ran to the other room and pulled one out of the closet. Returning to his hospital bed stationed in the living room, I showed him the towel. With a frown, he waved both hands with unconcealed frustration.

“Just leave it and get your mother, thanks.”

I set it on the table nearest to the bed and watched him slowly pick it up with wavering hands. He dabbed the applesauce off himself, and once again waved me out of the room. A soft pulsing whir of oxygen pumped through the unhooked mask and filled the space with a cushioning rhythm. I left.

Mathematics

A calculus project was due the next day. I sat in my car, alone, parked in the driveway next to the front entrance of my house. The setting sun punctuated the length of time spent in silence, motionless. Golden light caressed the tops of trees as the car sank into darkness.

I didn’t want to go inside. Wherever you were in the house, the sound followed you.

Fff-whurrrr-ffmmmm

He needed oxygen, and I needed to breathe. For a few more minutes, at least. Nobody would notice a few more minutes. He might be the only one counting.

Witness

I didn’t watch him die. Maybe I should’ve. Everyone told me not to; not to be afraid, not to be weak, not to avoid feeling, not to fail, not to watch, not to be near, but also not to be too far. I was confused. I was afraid. I didn’t know what any of it meant. I knew all too well that it didn’t mean anything. So, I waited in the other room. My oldest sister Jessica looked, and it followed her. She saw his face the next day peering out of a window, a specter of memory.

Hallmark Moment

“He could’ve fought. I don’t understand why he didn’t try to fight. He just gave up, gave up on us, on me. There was nothing, he didn’t do anything to stop it. Now I’m here, by myself, all alone at this age.”

My mom slouched further downward on the living room couch as I kneeled on the floor nearby, petting my dog. A watery homemade margarita sat half-drank next to her. After caring for my dad during his last few months, I knew her exhaustion transcended what I could recognize. Being a caretaker is difficult. So, I listened. She shook her head softly and continued.

“It sounds silly but I wanted something, oh I don’t know. A Hallmark moment. From one of those movies, that just brings us all together. Brings us together as a family. But we just fell apart, we couldn’t have one of those moments. Not even a look. A look between us, me and your father, that meant something. We’re just not one of those families, we fell apart.”

Junior Prom

“Hey you two look great, uh - ya - let’s move away from the gazebo so we can get woods in the background of the next shot.”

My boyfriend's dad was a photographer, talented and overjoyed to be in charge of capturing us before prom. Sweat dappled his t-shirt as he alternated between standing and squatting, directing us on which poses and angles would look best. He squinted, pointed, and shuffled us around to mold stale smiles and wilting corsages into lifelong memories.

My dad had been in remission for a few months now, and we felt lucky. I wore a floor length, silky maroon dress. It was a hand-me-down consignment piece from my older sister. My lipstick matched the dress tone, and subtle gold jewelry hung from my neck and ears.

With a smile, my boyfriend’s dad called out another direction.

“You and your dad, his shirt is the same color as your dress - ha! - we’ve gotta get a picture of you two together.”

He moved a bit closer, squatted down, and told us to smile while looking at each other. My dad and I held the pose for a few minutes while multiple photos were taken. After a few clicks, the shoot was successful and everyone began moving to another position.

I started to turn away, but my dad stood still. His smile faded. Tears misted his eyes as he softly held onto my arm.

“All these years and I never once actually looked into your eyes. I’ve never noticed how beautiful they are.”