Chapter Four: Timeless by Rosaline Saul
She asks, “Would you mind taking the salad to the table?”
Your dad will be here soon.”
What is going on here? I wonder perplexed as I take the
salad bowl and walk out of the kitchen toward the dining room. My dad always,
always works late and he never, ever eats with us. We only eat at the dining
table on Christmas Day. My mom and I usually eat from our knees, while we are
slumped into the couches, watching TV.
I realize with him coming home early I am going to have to
go up to my room earlier than usual. I scan my brain for any programs I might
miss. What do I usually watch on a Wednesday night? I always make sure I am in
bed and my earphones plugged into my ears when he gets home late every night.
They cannot be in the same Nano-sphere for more than ten minutes when the
fighting starts. I predict I will be deaf by the time I am forty, with the way
I have to turn up the volume just to tune out their screaming and shouting.
With unexpected dread, I hear the front door open, and my
dad’s voice announces, “I am home.”
I walk through the double doors separating the lounge from
the dining room and past the large triple seat couch. I walk out the door from
the lounge, into the hall and am just in time to see my dad hang his scarf and
coat onto the coat hanger next to the door. He bends down and puts his
briefcase down next to the coat hanger. While he is in this awkward position, I
take the opportunity to watch him. His dark hair is speckled with grey, and his
temples are already snow white. It makes him look distinguished and more
handsome. Inappropriately, I wonder why men age so handsomely and women just
disintegrate?
He comes back up and notices me standing in the doorway to
the lounge. He smiles widely. “Hey, Heather. How are you, stranger?”
Silently I agree with him because we are strangers. Loudly I
say, “Okay, and you?”
He starts walking down the hall toward the kitchen. “Mm-mm,
is that Lasagne I smell?”
I follow behind him and as he walks into the kitchen, he
greets my mom by simply saying, “Cathy.”
I see my mom smile at him nervously. “Evening, John.”
My mom looks past him toward me apprehensively. She asks,
“Heather, would you please grab the garlic bread from the micro?”
I walk to the microwave oven and click the door open. The
smell of garlic assaults my senses as I take out the plate with the three rolls
on it. Following them into the dining room, I place the plate with the garlic
rolls next to the bowl of green salad.
My dad sits at the head of the table with his back facing
the wall. He does not like to sit with his back exposed, I am sure this is some
Neanderthal defence mechanism. I sit next to him to his left and my mom sits
across from me.
I reach across the table, taking a garlic roll and I start
to pick at the crust as I watch my dad dish up his portion of Lasagne. There is
a nervous tension hanging in the air and once again, I wonder what the special
occasion is supposed to be.
We eat, mostly in uncomfortable silence.
Eventually, I put the last fork of food in my mouth and then
I grip my hands around the seat of the chair, preparing to push my chair
backward when my dad looks at me. He says, “Before you excuse yourself, there
is something we need to discuss as a family.”
I let go of the seat and fold my hands in my lap. I look at
him, waiting in nervous anticipation, as I feel a weird bundle of nerves in the
pit of my stomach.
My mom starts to fidget with the salt-shaker, and she keeps
her eyes firmly glued on it.
He announces, “Your mom and I have decided to get a
divorce.”
There is no sensitive introduction. No slow process he
follows to deliver this news to me.
Obviously, sometimes I did wonder why they were still
together when they could not stand being in the same room with each other.
However, there must have been a time when they loved each
other. They must have loved each other enough to bring another human being into
the world. Could they really not work through their problems and find that love
they used to have?
Although I have always expected this day to come, I am
shocked. The news literally shakes my world.
Frowning puzzled, I look at him and then my mom.
My mom smiles at me uncomfortably. “We have decided it would
be better for all three of us if your dad moves out.”
I ask, “When are you moving out?” My voice sounds defiant.
An inane question, I know, but I could think of nothing else to say. They have
decided and no matter what I say, they will still get divorced.
He answers casually, “This weekend.”
There are so many things I want to say. I want to shout out
at them to try to love each other again, but I say nothing. I sit back in my
chair as the news sink through me.
My mom glances at me remorsefully, while she says accusingly to my dad, “You could have used more tact when you told her.” She turns back toward me. “Heather, this will change nothing. Your dad still loves you as much as he always did. We will still be a family, but we will just be living in separate houses.”
I realize even though I hardly ever see my dad, he is basically already a visitor in my life, I will now have to schedule visits with him.
