This month’s Blogging For Books entry.
I meant to post a link telling you all about it earlier in the week but it completely slipped my mind.
This month’s topic – cheating.
I sat there on the faded cushions in the caravan that I knew so well. My little legs dangling over the sides, not yet long enough to touch the floor. I seemed unable to keep them still, even though I thought that I should, that the moment somehow deserved it. My hands were clenched tightly together in my lap. The memory is a little faded at the sides these days but I remember the pattern on the long cushion, flowers and swirls in raised material, like velvet perhaps one day in the beginning but now so worn down thin and scratchy on the back of my legs encased in shorts on that hot summer’s day.
I remember my heart beating in my chest, my head down, glaring at the floor. Scared that the tears I was trying to hold back so fiercely would betray me and start to fall. The familiar surroundings crowding me making me feel trapped. So many holidays and memories should have been my comfort but were part of my pain. The memories of him and what we had. Of the love that I thought was there, that had been ripped away.
In my misty glaze I could see his feet. White trainers mixed together with the jeans he was wearing, swimming together in the tears that blurred my eyes. I remember thinking that I wished that was all there was of him, just a pair of feet and legs to the knees and nothing else. No brain, no eyes, no mouth, no heart.
The silence was as oppressive as the heat in the caravan. The windows were open but gave no relief, no air, the only thing drifting through them was the sound of my brother shouting my name outside. I think I must have made a move like I was going to leave at that point because suddenly he spoke.
“Why won’t you talk to me?”
I remember looking up and seeing my father sat there. He looked sad. I remember thinking that was odd, I was the one who was sad. The tears fell then, hot and salty down my cheeks and into my mouth. I tried to speak but the words seemed glued to the back of my throat. I knew I had to say something but I didn’t know how.
Suddenly, I stood up.
“What is wrong?”
My mouth opened and I spat the words out. The only words that I have really ever regretted speaking, although at 10 years old you cannot know how much words could hurt. I never thought I could hurt anyone.
“I hate you”.
I can never forget the look on his face at that moment. I can never take those words back.
He can never forget those words even though he knows I didn’t understand then. I know he forgives me, just as he knows that I have now forgiven him. However those three words will always be between us. He left us for her and in the process he broke my heart.