Remember Me (430 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Nicole <nakita963.at.yahoo.com> (View user info) at 2004-09-13 20:00:41 EDT
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Originally her plans had been to go hiking with some friends but the remains of hurricane Edward forced Carol to change gears. Instead she decided to tackle the unpacking of some old cardboard boxes that threatened to dump their contents if one didn't hold the bottom securely. Carol's dad had dropped off the boxes in her garage a few weeks ago with a note saying that they were some of her things that he had found as he was cleaning out the attic in preparation for moving. She was a little upset that he was choosing to move further away from her, but when he got it in his head that he wanted to live closer to the ocean, there was no swaying him. That is how he had always been, incredibly determined when he felt he was in the right. There is certainly no changing him now, not that Carol would ever care to.
He had been a great father, raising her on his own. He had a more difficult time than Carol did when she got her first period and he did burn her forehead with a curling iron once, after which she never let him curl her bangs again, but he excelled in the areas that counted. He taught her love, respect, kindness, and how to throw a football. He may have let her watch "The Shining" when she was only 6 years old, but he let her sleep in his bed that night when she had nightmares, and again every night for the next month until they went away. That is what made a difference to Carol. Those are the things that Carol remembers and what she is going to miss the most when he moves.
Local newspaper and Penny-Saver sheets of crumpled paper were strewn about the living room as Carol dug through the boxes, unwrapping each object and placing it the appropriate pile - one for old toys she had forgotten she had, one for pictures and painting including the paper bag puppet she made for Thanksgiving in Kindergarten, one for assorted knick-knack and glassware and one for everything else. With each object she removed from it's box she spent at least a couple minutes reminiscing so it looked as if it would take the better part of the day to complete the task.
About halfway through the third box Carol unwrapped a perfume bottle, an old style bottle where you fill the reservoir with perfume and squeeze a bladder to spritz it on. She didn't recognize the bottle so she sprayed some of the few remaining drops into the air and breathed in the mist of fine perfume particles. Something triggered deep inside her and thoughts of her mother came forth unbidden. This had been her mother's perfume. Her mother had left at age four because, as her father had put it, while she loved Carol very much, enough to fight to have her named after Carol's maternal grandmother at birth, she stopped loving her husband and decided she could never be a good mother. No other explanations. She just ran away, leaving Carol with only a couple memories of her mother and an empty place that her father tried to fill as best he could.
Carol sprayed again and inhaled the aroma deeply, trying to make it last as long as she could. Dark portions of her brain that had been covered over by years of other experiences slowly came to life. She found herself remembering a birthday party and swinging on the backyard swing-set with her mother, laughing and being tucked into bed. Happy memories that helped fill that place inside her mother had left vacant. Another spritz and memories of making orange Jello, with those little oranges in it came hurtling through her mind. She had helped stir the mixture as it was cooling, trying to be careful, but she spilled a little bit and put a stain on the counter. Her mother screamed at her "I told you to be careful," as she yanked her off the stool she was sitting on and slapped her face. Another day, when she colored off the paper, SMACK. She wouldn't lie down for her nap, SLAP. More and more memories came forth, one after the other until they threatened to drown her. She started to cry, sobbing into her newspaper ink stained hands. "Quit crying! If you don't stop right now you'll get another spanking. STOP IT!" WHIP. "STOP IT!"
Carol tried to stop the tears, but as when she was 4, they kept flowing. Gray drops of water fell from her face and hands onto the beige carpet. For a brief second, Carol startled herself with the thought that she would get in trouble if she made a mess before she brought her thoughts back to the present. Back to today. That is over and done with. She is gone. Carol and her father did great on their own and Carol turned out wonderfully. Her father had been there for her when she needed him. Her father. Had he known? Did he suspect? Why hadn't he talked about it? Did he not think that she might need to talk? What had he known?
Carol dug through her purse and found her phone. MEM-4-TALK.
"Dad, did you really know mom?"
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Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2005-01-16 12:37:25 EST (#)
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