All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
The Death of My Fantasy
As my father and I walked to his cherry-red 2001 Toyota Tacoma, my father asked,
“How was your day, sweetheart?”
“Good!” I grinned getting myself ready for the punch line. “We were about to take a test... so you checked me out just in time!”
We both laughed, but my dad’s laughter seemed more forced than mine.
When we reached the truck, we separated onto the two different sides, and as I stood there waiting, I heard the “CLICK! CLICK!” of the locks unfastening themselves inside the truck. As I stepped up onto the hard black running board I heard it squeak, as if I was 1,000 pounds. I had to duck my head to be able to fit inside the doorway, which made me feel tall. When I plopped down into the tan leather seat, I looked out of the window and waited to hear the sound of the engine revolving, but it never came.
What’s going on?
Is something wrong with the truck?
I turned my head to ask my dad what was going on, but it seemed like my blood stopped cold in my veins when I saw his face, because it was something I never expected. A tear, slowly sliding down my father’s face, leaving a sliver trail on his face gleaming in the sun. In that moment I knew that something was seriously wrong. My mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusions…
Did mom die?
Did something happen to my brother?
Did we lose our house?
I froze with a panicked look on my face. I had never seen my dad cry before. Usually he was so calm and he kept his emotions hidden behind his mask of solitude.
Why did he begin with my name? He never does that! I’m scared! Daddy, please stop… if it’s bad news, then I don’t want to hear it.
My mind screamed out in horror, as he continued on with his sentence.
“Jade, you remember how mommy had a baby in her tummy?” He continued on with his sentence without giving me a chance to answer.
All I heard was that awkward silence that can wrench your soul out of your body, twist it up into a little ball, and throw it as far away as possible.
“Well, the baby passed away, and she won’t be able to come home with us anymore.”
By the time that he had said this, several more tears were streaking down his face, but I didn’t really notice them because I was too busy lost in my own thoughts. All I could think was that everything that I’d fantasized about being able to do with her, was never going to happen.
Brushing her long hair…
Painting her fingernails pink for her…
Talking to her about things she was never going to understand… Getting mad at her for wearing my clothes…
For a minute, I was so shocked that I don’t think I did anything.
After that I remember feeling mad at everything, and everybody, but then I realized that it couldn’t be blamed on anybody. Even if the doctors had known what was happening, they wouldn’t have been able to do anything. I mean it’s not like somebody reached into my mom’s stomach and tied the umbilical cord around my sister’s neck.
The last thing that I remember before everything blurred together was my dad’s face, a mask of anguish.