Author: lisa
Subject:
Sweet Sorrow - a HBX April challenge FF
A very short story in
response to the HBX April challenge. I did take the liberty to change
the personal pronoun in the challenge line.
Sweet Sorrow
~
by lisa
The day is beautiful. One of those early spring days
that give you a taste of summer when the chill of winter is still in
your bones. The sky is a pristine blue, the sun is bright, and
everyone you meet is smiling and cheerful. Except for me. I sit in my
office staring unseeingly at the computer screen. A million things
waiting for my attention as my in box would attest to, but all I can
think about is this morning. The day didn’t start out awful. In
fact it started out pretty great. But one meaningful exchange managed
to put me in the depressing mood I find myself in. If my mother could
see me she would tell me, ‘Harmon, (I always hated it when she
called me by my full name) pick yourself up by the scruff of your
neck and quit moping!’
But I just can’t help
indulging in a little pity party for myself. And it’s quite the
party - all the balloons, hats, and noisemakers that make for a good
party. In my case those party favors include a scowl that would
frighten away all but the boldest or the most foolhardy, a jumbo size
coffee which I wish was laced with something stronger than caffeine,
and my bluesiest Miles Davis playing in the background.
She
said goodbye to me this morning. It wasn’t the first time I’ve
heard those words from someone I loved. It wasn’t even the
first time we’ve said those words to each other. She has said
goodbye to me before. But this time something struck me as different.
She, on the other hand, didn’t seem to share my feelings of
doom. Too caught up in her own joy and excitement for what life might
bring. And it’s nearly impossible not to share that joy when
around her. It was only afterwards that the gloom set in as I thought
of her leaving me and dwelled on the memory of having her in my arms,
with her’s wrapped around my neck as she softly whispered those
words of farewell and parted with a kiss to my cheek. She was
smiling. I returned her smile, but found myself fighting a sudden
rush of emotion as tears came to my eyes. I guess she hasn’t
learned that ‘parting is such sweet sorrow.’ Actually,
it’s not all that sweet.
I remembered the very first
time I heard her tell me "goodbye". Staring at at a picture
on my desk of the two of us I muttered, “She’s gotten too
good at saying goodbye.” I couldn’t help but smile
slightly as I looked at the picture taken at a recent party at Bud
and Harriet’s. I had pulled her onto my lap - which she was not
too happy about at first - and Harriet had snapped a picture. She
certainly has a fiery personality, but there’s definitely a
sweet and tender side, too.
Returning to my moping, I was
annoyed to be interrupted from my depressing thoughts by a knock on
the door. I thought of ignoring it, but knew it would be futile.
Reluctantly I muttered, “Enter.”
As Mac’s
presence filled the doorway, I found myself responding to her
welcoming smile with a smile of my own. But Mac knows me too
well.
Closing the door and taking a seat she began her
inquisition. “What happened to you? You look like hell. What’s
wrong, Harm?”
I thought about denying my bad mood that I
knew was more than evident, but there was no doubt Mac would drag it
out of me and it might not be pretty if I didn’t give in. It
still is hard for me to share my deepest feelings, but Mac is the
only one who has seen me at my most vulnerable and I know she will be
there for me - no matter what.
Still, I tried dropping chaff.
“Who said anything was wrong? I’m fine - just having a
busy day.”
Rolling her eyes, I knew she wouldn’t
let it drop. “Oh come on, Harm. You’re forgetting who
you’re talking to. Something is eating away at you. Now spill
it.”
Heaving a sigh of defeat I gave in and voiced the
concern that has been weighing on me all morning. Maybe she would
convince me that my fear is unfounded. “She said goodbye to me
this morning.”
Confused Mac answered, “Who,
Ava?”
Nodding I continued, “She’s going to
leave me. She’s leaving me and I don’t think I can stand
it..”
“Harm, ...”
Ignoring her
attempts to reason with me, I rambled on in despair. “How can
she so easily move on with her life without me? She’ll turn to
someone else for love and won’t need me anymore.”
She
tries again. “Harm.”
I continue with my tale of
woe. “Mac, I know what you are going to say. You’re going
to tell me I’m being ridiculous and ...”
This time
she interrupted me with more insistence. “Harm! Ava is one year
old. She’s not leaving us for at least 17 more years.”
Not
finding comfort in that truth I argue morosely, “But she will,
Mac. It struck me today when she said ‘bye-bye’ that one
day she will be gone. She didn’t even seem bothered to be
leaving me this morning. Someday I’ll no longer be important to
her and she won’t give it a passing thought. Why did we ever
teach her to say good-bye?”
Smiling at my hyperbole, Mac
came around my desk to stroke my back. “Now there you’re
wrong. Yes, one day she will have a life of her own, but she will
always love you and need you and look up to you. Fathers hold
incredible sway over the lives of their children - either for good or
bad. We both know that. And you, Harm, are an incredible father. Ava
worships you and she will always be daddy’s little
girl.”
Swiveling in my chair to face her, I respond with
a smile - this one genuine. I knew Mac would know the right thing to
say. Pulling her into my lap and holding her close I murmur against
her neck, “But do you think we can keep her from ever having
sex?”
Mac pulls away to respond and as I look deep into
her eyes - into the soul of this woman who is my life and who gave
life to our daughter - I search for an answer. She provides me one.
But it’s not the one I wanted.
Instead she leans
forward, giving me the kind of kiss I hope Ava never learns to
give.
Rising, she pulls me from my chair. “Come on,
daddy. Let’s get some lunch.”
Following behind I
answer, “Mac, over lunch remind me to tell you about an
all-girls high school I discovered ...”
The End