The Face You See

by Amelia Legend

  A flash of memory comes to mind as fear of rejection overwhelms me.

  I turn into the kitchen to find my mom sitting at the kitchen table looking out the window with a sad look on her face. I try my best to get ready like she wants me to before school. Quietly so I don’t wake her up. Was I loud this morning? Why is she already awake?

  “Mom, are you feeling better?” This is the first time I have seen her in two days. She says she has been so sleepy. She hasn’t even gone to work, but she sits at the table in her bathrobe with her hair sticking out everywhere. It looks kind of silly, but I won’t tell her in case it makes her sad.

  “Yeah, baby, I feel a little better today. I don’t think I will be going back to work today though.”

  “Am I going to see daddy today? Or do you want me to stay home with you? If you want me to, I’ll stay,” I say sadly. I don’t really want to stay home, but Mom gets sad when I leave. “I don’t really want to go. I want to stay with you,” I lie to make her happy, hoping that it’s what she wants to hear.

  She stands up to make a cup of coffee. As she turns around, she is looking at me with a strange expression. “Do you know why your father left, Danielle? I really shouldn’t say … maybe I shouldn’t.”

  I stand nervously. I don’t really understand, but I try to stand tall like a lady the way I know she wants me to. “I’m eight, Mom. I am big enough to know now.”

  She sits down and grabs my hand as if to comfort me for reasons I don’t yet know.

  “He left because I got pregnant with you, Danielle. He only wanted two children, but I accidentally got pregnant with you. He left right after you were born. He didn’t want you.” She takes her hand away, turning to stare out the window again, ignoring me, as if she hadn’t just shattered my heart. I turn to leave, trying to hold in the tears I will shed only when I am alone.

  I put on my good face, the face my mommy expects me to wear. It has become the fake face I wear for my mom, to hide the bad stuff I feel.

  Before I can even finish mulling over my hesitation, the door opens, snapping me back to the present. My dad is standing in the doorway with a huge grin on his face, wearing a ridiculous Santa hat. I can’t help but smile at him, my apprehension quickly fading.

  My dad, Charles, bellows, “Merry Christmas, girls!” He opens his arms, and we both gladly give him a hug. Perhaps I have nothing to worry about. Maybe it’s all just in my head. I hope so …

  The afternoon goes by in a flurry of laughter and a steady stream of questions about school. My stepmom, Mary, quietly listens while setting dinner on the table for each of us. It’s so different from home, where we do everything ourselves, because here she even serves us our meals. It’s still unsettling to be taken care of at dad's after years of taking care of others.

  My dad looks at Avery and then at Mary before settling on me with a concerned expression on his face, something that I rarely see from my father. My stomach drops. Something is wrong.

  My dad clears his throat nervously. “Avery called me a few weeks ago with a question.”

  I suddenly look over at Avery, feeling a little panic, but she avoids my questioning stare.

  “Your stepmom and I have discussed it, we talked it over with Mary’s daughter Crystal, and Avery has decided to come live with me full-time from now on. We haven’t discussed this with your mother yet, but we will as soon as we can. Before we do, I want to know if you wanted to come and stay with me more often too? Your sister will be continuing her schooling while living with us. You are also welcome to stay at the same school and finish out your year here with us. It’s up to you,” he finishes, taking a deep breath, almost as if he is afraid of my answer.

  I’m suddenly afraid of it as well.

  On one hand, he is offering me everything I have always hoped for. It doesn’t erase the past or the fact that he has been absent, but it’s a start. I glance over at my sister, shocked that she never mentioned anything to me. She knew but chose not to say anything. What else is she hiding? I feel a little hurt that she chose to stay silent. Looking at her, I feel like I am really seeing her for the first time.

  I turn back to my dad, who is still waiting for a reply. “Well, do I need to decide right now?”

  My voice comes out as a whisper. I clear my throat. “I’ll feel bad if Mom loses us both completely. Maybe I can still visit her on the weekends?”

  I feel bad even saying it. A part of me feels like I am betraying my family by leaving—not that they deserve my loyalty, but I feel like a disappointment to my mom. Because when it comes right down to it, if I am being honest with myself, all I have ever wanted was for her to want me, for her to love me the way she loves her other children, for her not to look at me as though I was the unwanted monster who took away her husband. I have always known she resents me, but that hasn’t kept me from trying to earn her love and forgiveness.

  I can't leave. Not yet. Not until I know without any doubt that I can't fix my family, until I know it can't get better. I'm too afraid, too unsure, and too ashamed to walk away just yet.

  This will destroy her pride, and I know it, so perhaps if I just stay here Monday through Friday, it won’t seem like such a betrayal to her. I hate to think of the repercussions from Mark that will surely be coming. I fear them as much as I feel helpless to avoid them, unless I never go back. But I know that is something I might never do. It’s something I should do, but I can’t bring myself to be so cruel to my mother. I’d rather suffer the consequences than hurt my mother that way.

  My father nods his head and looks at Mary for comfort, his eyes warming at the sight of her. Their love has always been obvious, regardless of how and when their relationship started. After my parents divorced, they were married so quickly that it makes you wonder when it started. But it’s hard to care when she makes him so happy, and a love like theirs is a rare thing, too rare to pass up. It’s something I can never hold against him because I am glad that he is happy. Besides, my mother isn’t an easy woman to be around anyway. My dad has always been too sweet for someone like my mother.

  Mary suddenly turns to me and asks, “What do you want? Do what makes you happy. Not what we want, not what your mother wants, but what’s best for you.”

  Her advice is so simple, but she has no idea how complicated this decision really is. Someone will pay for this offense; Mark will make sure of it. I’m just unsure of who it will be. I simply nod my head. Conversation suddenly turns to more lighthearted topics, but my head is filled with questions and my heart is heavy with the answers to them.

  I sit outside while watching the sun fall behind the oak trees and contemplate how Avery and I got into this position. How do you decide between two people you love? How does a child choose between her parents, and how does divorce eventually lead to this? I wish it didn’t have to, and in a perfect world, it wouldn’t, but I know all too well that the world isn’t perfect. It’s dark, flawed, and unfair.

  Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Dannie. Get over your pity party and focus on making the rational decision. Not emotional … rational.

  I take a deep breath. On one hand, I feel like somehow I owe my mother my loyalty. My father left her, so how can I justify leaving her too? A person can only take so much abandonment, and I don’t want to hurt her. On the other hand, why should it matter to me? Look at the position she has put all her children in. Look at the life she has forced us into. Why shouldn’t I leave without a second thought? I should leave. I know it’s what would be best for me, but I hate the thought of hurting my mother. Two wrongs don’t make a right, and leaving out of revenge doesn’t feel right. If I leave my mother’s home for good, I want it to feel like I have tried everything I can to make it work, and there is nothing more I can do. I don’t want the guilt or the responsibility to be on my shoulders.

  I’m mulling over the two sides of my decision when someone sits down beside me on the steps. I look over to see a grim look on my dad’s face—not something I often see.

>   “What are you thinking about that is making you cry?” he asks, handing me a tissue.

  I feel my face, not realizing that I was crying. How could I not realize I was crying?

  Embarrassed, I quickly dry my face. “Oh, you know, thinking about how to make this decision. It seems a little impossible.” I look down, not knowing what else to say.

  “Well, it is a terrible decision. It’s a decision that will affect the relationship you have with your mother. I hate that it has come to such extreme measures, but your mother has never made it easy on us.”

  I look over at him a little confused. “What do you mean?”

  He looks a little startled. “Oh, you know, how she tried to move and change your names to hide you from me?” He starts looking a little confused as he sees my stricken expression. “You don’t remember, do you?”

  “N-no, I …” I look him in the eyes to see if he is lying. He clearly isn’t. My father has never lied to me, and he looks like he regrets telling me instantly. “She tried to hide us?”

  “She didn’t want to share custody with us. The divorce was hard on her, hard on you kids too … I know marrying Mary so quickly was difficult to accept, but I promise the two decisions where completely unrelated. It wasn’t easy on your mother.” He begins to look a little awkward at the turn of conversation so I intervene.

  “So you wanted custody?”

  His head snaps in my direction as he looks at me critically for a long moment.

  “Do you really think I don’t want to know my children?”

  I don’t respond immediately, not sure what to say. “Is that what you think?” he asks again.

  “I always thought you kind of didn’t. You left so soon after I was born … I don’t know … I guess I assumed you didn’t want me.” I hang my head as fresh tears come to my eyes. I feel my dad’s arm wrap around my shoulders.

  “Of course I wanted you. Of course I want to spend time with you, finally get to know you, finally get to be a part of raising you. More than just occasional weekends and holidays. It’s not the same. It’s never been the same. But your mother made it seem like if she didn’t have you, she wouldn’t have anything to live for. How could I do that after leaving her? I knew we weren’t good together, and we were both miserable married, but we both love you kids.” He pauses to give me a moment before continuing, “I would love to have you live with us. It will be hard to transition to a different home, but I think we can do it. But don’t ever believe that I don’t want you here. In fact, I don’t want you to ever think or say that again.” He smiles brightly, trying to lighten the mood.

  I feel a burning in my throat at the realization that my dad wants me to live with him. He wants to share custody. My father always wanted me, and the years of rejection I have felt were all based on lies my mother told me out of her own bitterness and anger. I sit on the steps long after my father goes inside. I sit and think about all the things my mother has said about my father over the years and whether or not those stories were ever true.

  I sit and also think about all the things my father doesn't know.

  I’m thrilled Dannie is at her father’s for Christmas. I don’t know her mother or stepfather, but from what I’ve seen, I’m not their biggest fan. Dannie’s father, on the other hand, is a nice enough man. Naive maybe, but that suits me just fine. Being a neighbor has its advantages when you desperately want a neighbor’s daughter. All it takes is a friendly hello, moving the trash can for them occasionally, watering their plants, and feeding the dog when they’re on vacation. It’s given me access to Dannie’s room at the very least and, I hope, made a good impression on her old man.

  What a good boy I am. I laugh at that thought. If he only knew the thoughts I had of his daughter, he might get a restraining order instead of cheering for me at my games.

  I’ve given Dannie a few letters, which she seems to appreciate. I’ve watched her smile when she opens her locker to find one, so I must have been right about the letters. They are filled with cheesy poetry. Sometimes I describe what interests me about her or how attracted I am to her. Women love that crap, even my smart, silent, blue-eyed girl.

  Whatever works.

  I stand at the bottom of her driveway in the dark, contemplating how to give her the Christmas present I bought for her. It’s a simple charm bracelet, but I filled it with charms that remind me of her: a book, a cheerleader even though she isn’t on the team this year, a mascaraed mask. I slowly walk up the driveway, hoping I don’t draw the attention to any of the other neighbors as I intend to set the small jewelry box on the front step and freeze. I don’t have the courage to give it to her myself, but is this the right time? I turn, and quickly walk back home with the small box in hand. I wish I could, but it’s not the right time.

  Soon …

  Imagine my surprise when later that week, when grabbing the mail, I turn to find Dannie doing the same thing. I am so shocked, it takes me a moment to shake myself out of it.

  “Sorry to startle you. Just grabbing the mail,” she says, stepping around me toward her mailbox.

  I clear my throat, annoyed at my own behavior. “No problem. You look familiar. Do I know you?” I ask, acting as if I’m trying to place her from somewhere.

  She turns her head, giving me that inquisitive look she has and says, “Yeah … we go to school together. I used to be on the cheer squad. You’re on the varsity team, right? Nick?” She turns a little red as if the slip of my name gives her away. She knows my name, excellent.

  I smirk. “Yeah, I’m Nick. Sorry I didn’t recognize you. Ya know when you go to a school of two thousand, it’s hard to keep track of everyone.” I hope I sound casual because I’m having a difficult time not celebrating my victory. “I didn’t realize you lived so close. Did you just move in?” I ask, hoping to drag this conversation out as long as I possibly can.

  “Well, no, my dad has lived here for years, but I just recently moved in with him …” she trails off as if not quite knowing what else to say.

  So she lives with her dad full-time now? Hell yeah, this is going to be perfect. It’s as if all the stars have aligned in my favor.

  As if God himself gives his approval.

  As she nervously tucks her hair behind her ear, I resist the urge to reach out to do it myself.

  “Well, it was good to see you,” I say as I turn and walk away as fast as I can possibly move without running as I hear her utter a good-bye behind me.

  I walk into my house and nearly make it to the kitchen before my father catches me, breaking my thoughts away from Dannie.

  “Have you turned in all your college applications yet Nick?”

  Of course you idiot, you only remind me every damn day! Instead of responding with what I really mean, I give the man an enthusiastic pat on the shoulder and a cheerful smile.

  “Sure thing Dad! I'd better hear back from UCLA or else I might have more grey hairs than you Old Man.” UCLA is the last thing on my mind but he doesn't need to know what really preoccupies my thoughts. I give him more quick witted banter before finally escaping into my room, looking out the window, and filling my mind with all the possibilities the future could hold.

  After four years of cleaning up my act or “turning my life around” as my mother would say and putting on the “good boy” mask Dannie so generously inspired. I've learned to hide my thoughts skillfully without much thought or effort. I can have an entirely different conversation in my own head as my parents go on about their days none the wiser because if they really knew what was beneath this facade, they'd be afraid.

  They would certainly have reason to be.

  The next morning, my sister makes the inevitable phone call. I am in the other room, but I hear her when she begins to raise her voice. She sounds like she is crying, but I can’t be sure. My dad and Mary walk outside to give her privacy, but I can see them holding hands in the backyard, speaking quietly to one another.

  This feels so surreal.

  “Wha
t did you expect?” Avery shrieks, definitely angry now. ‘Did you think that I would just live with you forever and raise your daughter? I’m not your babysitter! I can’t do this anymore.”

  I don’t hear what my mother says back, but I can tell she is yelling through the phone as my sister approaches my room. Her face is bright red as she enters, clearly restraining her temper.

  “I don’t know what Dannie will do, Mom. That’s her decision.”

  Oh no, I was not expecting this so soon. I am not ready. I don’t know what to say. “Here she is,” Avery hands me the phone, thrusting it in my face as she turns on her heels and stomps away.

  All of a sudden, I hear, “Dannie? Are you leaving me too?”

  My heart breaks as I say, “No.” All I want is the courage to say yes.

  I sit there and try to calm my mother down. I explain to her that Avery needs to be here to finish school and that all I want to do is spend the weekdays here during the school year. I tell her things like “You won’t even notice I’m gone” and “I just want a chance to get to know Dad better.” She screams at me about how we are leaving her too, just like our father did, and we never appreciated everything she sacrificed for us. All the while, an anger burns in me.

  What about all that we were forced to sacrifice? What about the innocence that was ripped away from us? Life isn’t fair. It certainly hasn’t been for us. I feel the mask of calm that I cling to when I am around her begin to crack. In fact, I feel it melt as my fury rises. I clench my hands as they begin to shake.

  “I have to go now, Mom,” is all I can say as I hang up on her mid complaint. Breathe, just breathe. I try to calm myself as I remember all that we were forced to suffer for her own selfishness. All the things that I have never allowed myself to dwell on begin to take shape before me—too many nightmares to count, too many nights going to bed afraid, too many days of abandonment forced to stand alone.