Over Slept

Fuck. Why am I like this? Staring at my phone as I lay in bed, my eyes widen with horror. I’m normally late, 15 minutes at the very least. Today I’ve slept in by an hour, on the one day I had to be on time. Screaming out of bed, I jump into all of my clothes, a sharp black dress with heels to match. Mum said to dress nice for the occasion, basically not to be me. I ran a brush through my hair, the comb scratching my scalp raw. A lovely sprinkling of dandruff setting on my shoulders. My hair was notoriously hard to control, a gregarious bushel plopped on my head, looking like it could come alive at any second. I stare at the mirror knowing mum will make some backhanded compliment regardless, not to mention the fact I am an hour late. Scampering up my handbag, I ran out the door, slamming it behind me. Fuck. Are you serious? How could I leave him inside, it was my one job. Please have your keys, I thought as I scramble around my handbag, passing through tampons and loose M&Ms. Eating a blue one I realise they are the crispy ones from three weeks ago, and hate myself more. I hit silver and a jingle, thank fuck for that. Rushing through the apartment, I beeline for the urn, holding him firmly in both hands. Ironically, like my life depended upon it. Opening the passenger side of the car, I place Dad down and strap him in. It seems ridiculous to put a seat belt around my dads’ ashes, but I am an hour late and need to at least have brought dad.

I rush around the other side of the car, pausing at the driver’s side. I look through the window at dad, just slumped there on the seat. “ What is it kid, you going to get in”?, I see dad sitting there. He’d always call me kid, even as I passed 30. My eyes starting to well up, all I’d like is for him to call me kid one last time. I slipped off my heels, throw them in the back, and hop in the car. Blasting the radio whilst speeding down the highway, I’m surprised by the idea. I’m in a good mood. Yelling songs about love and death at the top of my lungs, as the wind whooshes past the open window. Fuck. I slowly started to approach traffic, as I apply the brake. Out of know where some dickhead pulls out in front of me, making me slam on the brakes hard. Dad slips out of the belt, the lid floating off the top. Ash descended upon the windscreen, the air thick with death. I cough and splutter, trying not to inhale any of dad. Amazingly I could still see the ass whole who had caused me to spill my father everywhere, avoiding a crash by millimetres. Now I was in traffic, I had time to rescue enough of dad for mum not to notice. She would probably make some quip if he was only half in the urn, “classic your father not turning up”. Wiping up dad off the dashboard and scraping him off the windscreen, I try and rescue every morsel of him. I can hear dad now, “kid you missed a spot’, spending his life as a window washer, I could tell he’d be laughing. “Shut up Dad”, I heard myself say out loud. I think I breathed in too much ash.

Slowly travelling through what appeared to be rush hour traffic at 11 am, I start to reminisce about dad. What could I possibly say whilst spreading the man, that would justify his existence? A kind man with a big goofy smile, he lit up every room he walked into. I was my father’s daughter, loud, jolly and clumsy, I can see him smile at this morning shenanigans. He was my silly pal I thought, as I start to well up again. Don’t cry, don’t cry, not wanting to show weakness in front of apparently no one. I wondered if mum would cry, she wasn’t a fan of my father, no one was. To be fair to them, he wasn’t a perfect father to my brother and sister, the stories they would tell never fit the man I knew. I was younger by a good ten years than them, their childhood plagued with drunken valour and absence. He wasn’t silly or a pal to them. It was challenging defending him often, no one, especially my mother, believed me when I spoke so highly. At the funeral, mum handed him to me, “ he’s your problem now”. It had taken me a full month of begging them for this moment, could we please all be there one final time. This was their birthday present to me, and I was the one who was late. They must be furious.

Dad loved the beach and took me often. I’d bury him in the sand, splash about in the ocean and end the evening with an ice cream staring at the setting sun. They were some of my favourite days, and I thought dad would like to end up there. I pull into the car park, seemingly empty except for one or two other cars. None of them I recognised. Fuck. Please tell me I’m not so late they left already. I check my phone, I’m nearly two hours late, but no phone calls or texts. They could have at least said they were going to leave. I turn to what was left of dad, “ looks like it’s only you and me”. Not that they would care, I didn’t want to spread him without telling them I was, so I called mum. “Hello sweetie, what’s happening?”, Mum was constantly trying to stay current and happening was her latest attempt. “I was just wondering where you guys were at?” I tried to remain calm, although there apparent disdain for dad hurt me. “Oh I’m just at home, about to have lunch, did you want to come round”?. “I know I’m late and you didn’t like dad, but you could have called before you left.” I was starting to feel my blood boil, I only asked for one thing. I know I was late, but not even a call. She did a big sigh, “you’re at the beach aren’t you?”. “Yeah, I know I’m ridiculously late, but yes I’m here at the fucking beach”, nice job staying calm. She began laughing over the phone, “ I don’t find this fucking funny!”, “Sweetie, sweetie, it’s Saturday”. I pause. I peel the phone away from my ear and look at the date, it was indeed Saturday. We had agreed on 10 am Sunday. Now I was laughing hard, so was Mum and I could hear Dad joining in. We hadn’t laughed as a family in a while, this was nice. I said I would see her tomorrow and hung up the phone. Tears were streaming down my face, not out of sadness but joy and I knew this was a perfect time. I grabbed dad, hopped out the car and headed to the edge of the beach. This moment, just me and him. Tomorrow could be sombre, today we could laugh at the fact I overslept.