Goodbye, Lullaby

I remembered why I had begun hating this holiday. At one point it had never been that bad. I had no traumatizing adolescent romantic escapades that backfired in my face. No, it was quite on the contrary. My young teenage self lived for this day once a year. I never found myself without candy placed secretly into my locker from some stuttering, love-struck boy a year younger than me. A rose tucked in my math book by one of the more confident math whizzes who sat shyly behind me, staring at me behind those thick-rimmed glasses. The slew of cards that I found on my doorstep at home from half of the football team, asking me to be theirs. No, this holiday never found me without attention. Attention was always drawn to me like a magnet on this day. Despite all of the romantic gestures that constantly surrounded me, I was always missing the one thing that I had ever truly needed.

I found myself this Valentine’s Day sitting in my one-room studio apartment alone, with only an ominously large bottle of wine to keep me company. The outside streets buzzed with a fervent energy below my frosted window, and the car sounds and people sounds blended into a delicious harmony in my ears. I poured a second glass of wine as I sunk against the lone couch in my room, closing my eyes and losing myself as the alcohol worked its magic. Back when I was younger, I wasn’t able to escape this day by means of potent drinks that killed your memories. I just had to toss my hair, remember to keep a smile plastered to my face and deal.

Reality is a bitch when you’re young and have no way of outrunning your past. I accepted the tokens of affection from boys who thought they knew what I needed, gorged myself on chocolates in my room as tears slowly worked their way down my face, and made myself presentable for the dinner I would eat with the only good company I had that night- although it would’ve made more sense if I was just alone then as well. In my house, Valentine’s Day symbolized awkward silences filling every room heavily with a weight that almost seemed unbearable. My only solace on that day was knowing that by the time the clock chimed midnight, everything would be slowly pushed to the back of our minds for another year.

The dim morning light filtered into my apartment as I hummed a lullaby he had once taught me, softly letting my voice carry and fill up all of the shadowy places in my mind. I stared at the clock, counting the merciless hours until this day would be done. I had found myself in the same position that I had always been ensnared in every single year. The phone rang abruptly, and I was jarred out of my drunken singsong. I pulled myself together and stood up straight, still clad in my softest pajamas with a growing throbbing in my temples. The phone rang harshly, echoing in the darkness of my room and I grabbed it on the third ring. Lifting it to my ear, I knew the voice that I would hear on the other end. I knew it as well as my own.

“Cassidy?” my mother whispered wearily, and I could picture her in her ratty bathrobe with her ID tag, perched on the edge of the kitchen chair and clutching a rumpled photo to her chest as she spoke.

“Mom? It’s me. Are you alright?” I asked, wishing I had finished the entire bottle before this conversation started to take place. It was entirely too early for me to feel like a train wreck.

“Well, Cassidy, I spoke to your father this morning. He seemed so rushed when he talked to me. Oh, Cassidy he was in such a hurry. Such a hurry to leave for work today,” she told me in a hushed tone, the sounds of a microwave in the background whirring.

“Mom, why is the microwave on?” I asked cautiously, wincing as I listened to her descriptions of her conversation she believed she had that morning. I heard the beeping as the microwave stopped and some rustling of kitchen sounds in the background.

“Oh, well Cassidy I am making your father some hot soup for lunch. You know how he always comes home during his break. Today I made him hot tomato soup. That’s his favorite you know?” she claimed proudly as I heard her stirring the soup at the kitchen counter.

“Mom, where’s Gloria today? You should go back to bed or she’ll be angry that you got up this early. I’m sure that Gloria will make you some soup if you want some for lunch. Go back to bed Mom,” I responded as I sighed, trying to gain control on the situation. My mother no longer lived alone at home. It had gotten to the point that I made the decision to place her in a home where a caretaker was able to monitor her every move so I would no longer have to. I could never move on without making sure that she was in a safe place.

“Miss Rosemary, what on earth are you doing up?” I heard Gloria, my mother’s lovable but strict caretaker, say in the background to my mother and I waited for a different voice to crackle across the phone lines.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m going to be taking your mother back to bed. I knew today wasn’t going to be a good day, but I’m sure you knew that too. How are you doing, sugar?” I heard Gloria ask me soothingly, and just the sound of her voice was almost enough for me to finally relax and forget all of my fears that circulated around this day.

“I’ll be fine,” I slurred, feeling my previous wine binge start to take effect. I hung up the phone lightly and made my way back to my familiar spot on the rug, hugging the bottle of wine to my chest. I knocked back a long gulp straight from the bottle as my eyes roved around my living quarters, focusing on a jumble of different things. I was weary from the early morning conversation with my mother as I stared at the number of items accumulated on my table. A stuffed bear from Drew, the good-looking twenty something who lived a floor above me. A bouquet of red roses from Grant, a gorgeous history teacher whom I previously had in class a semester before. A box of chocolates and an enclosed card from Holden, my co-intern at Briggs Law Firm. The men still flocked to me, even now. But I would never be happy and I would always be alone. I was not attached to any of these people who doted on me constantly. I regarded their gifts as superficial and continued to wait for the one gift that I would never get. Realizing that I had consumed the entire bottle of wine, I drifted into a drunken stupor and slept for a portion of the day. My dreams were void of any images as I slept through my single-most hated day of the year.

His lullaby drifted through my thoughts as the alcohol danced in my veins, keeping the beat of my self-induced coma with the sweet musical notes that I remembered so well. <i>Sleep well, my darling. Don’t you fret in the night. When you wake I will be by your side. The darkness will come and turn into light, just remain my angel oh so bright</i>. Hours later I awoke with fresh tears masking my face, glancing at the clock automatically and knowing that I had to go. I gauged my drunken state as I padded softly to my room, taking off and putting on clothes automatically. I didn’t stumble at all as I pulled a shirt over my head, so I gambled and decided that today would be the day to drive.

I remained on auto-pilot as I rummaged through the one drawer that I didn’t open except for on this day. I found the crinkled piece of paper, their words and instructions faded as the years had passed with agonizing quickness. I also found the photograph that remained hidden underneath my pile of old Valentine’s Day cards and I rummaged through the bright colors and cutesy sayings until I pulled out the only piece of paper that meant a thing to me. I put the paper and photo into my jeans pocket and grabbed my coat, bundling up as I prepared myself for the coldness I would feel the second I began my journey.

Before I left my apartment entirely, I grabbed one of Grant’s roses on a whim. It was interesting; I thought to myself, that one man’s thoughtless gifts would now be coming in handy. Walking outside to the smoky parking garage adjacent to my apartment building, my breath puffed in front of me. The tears that had once glistened on my cheeks stung with the bitter cold as I slowly made my way to my car. The interior smelled stale and dead, and I immediately turned on the radio haphazardly to a station I wasn’t familiar with and started the car. I was exhausted and depressed, but I pressed the accelerator to begin the 12.4 mile drive to my destination.

I drove with the radio distracting me from my own thoughts and wishes, my own secret hopes and desires. Every Valentine’s Day there was only one thing that I wanted, one thing I had been wishing for ever since the moment that Valentine’s Day turned ugly and painful for me. I reached the 11.7 mile mark with a foreboding sense of trepidation, knowing that when I hit the .8 I could no longer hide from my past any longer. At .8, my past would suddenly become vividly real. I felt my breaths quickening in my chest as I continued to drive, rounding the bend slower than anyone else normally would as I held my breath and tried to keep my eyes open.

Seven years prior to driving on this road on this day, the one man that I looked up to and put on the highest pedestal was robbed of his life at this bend in the road. On his way to work, with a hot cup of tomato soup at his side. With an overly glittery Valentine card stuffed into his briefcase, made by his love-obsessed daughter. They said he was just going too fast, driving in too much of a hurry. I guess he didn’t see the ice.

I made it around the bend, letting out my breath while letting my vision become blurred again by the wetness encompassing my eyelashes. I drove onward, finding the rumpled piece of paper and glancing at it despite already memorizing my way there. 12.3 miles were accomplished as I became closer and closer to my destination. The radio crackled, and a familiar melody was strummed on a guitar as I drove past snow covered cliffs. <i>Sleep well, my darling. Don’t you fret in the night… </i>I felt myself beginning to slow down, disbelief and anger raging throughout my body as I listened intently to the radio. My father’s song he had sung to me all those years was on the radio. My heart jack-hammered against my chest and I didn’t want to believe it. I wasn’t much for believing in coincidences, fate or any other kind of blind faith in the unexplainable. I was a rationalist, knowing better then to ever get my hopes up about anything anymore.

I gritted my teeth as I turned into the Briar County Cemetery, driving along the too familiar route to the grave that I would be visiting today. I shut the car off, making sure I could no longer hear that song playing happily for all of those people who hadn’t lost their fathers. I stepped out of the car, my feet crunching in the snow as I walked slowly to my father’s grave. I took in my surroundings as I moved, noticing the many red roses lying on other graves today. Love for the forgotten. Love for the remembered. My father’s grave came into clear focus and I held my rose for him, trembling in my hand. I knelt in front of the smooth marble stone in front of me, feeling the edges of the words etched into the gravestone. <i>In Memory of Frank Kaiser. Husband, Father, Friend.</i> The years didn’t matter as I stared at the ground beneath which he lied. I never liked to think about the years. That only made it seem more real, more permanent.

“Daddy, I miss you. It’s me, Cassidy. Mom’s a mess. Although I never really expect anything less anymore. I heard our song on the radio today. I drank an entire bottle of wine because of you, Daddy. Why did you have to drive so fast? Why did you have to go?” I sobbed, whispering at the snow covered ground as I placed the rose at the base of the headstone. My tears fell heavily onto the snow, instantly freezing, remaining at the grave until the spring sun would come and warm all of the sadness away.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. I hope that you liked the Valentine that I gave you that day. I worked really hard on it. I hope you’re doing okay in heaven, but I really did need you down here. I’d give anything for you to come back to me. But that’s not possible. It’s just not. So Daddy, I’m going to leave now. I promise that I will be back in a few months, but for right now this is all that I can handle. Goodbye. <i>Just remain my angel, oh so bright</i>,” I whispered, standing up and turning away from him. I knew that I would never see my father again, and I trudged back to my car defeated and wanting this day to be over with completely. I slid into the seat and slammed the door, leaning my head back on the seat as I began to calm down and regain my composure. A glittering piece of paper caught my eye in the rearview mirror, and my heart caught in my throat.

I slowly turned back to look at the backseat, and saw a pink shiny heart on an orange piece of paper stuck in the crease of the seat. I slowly reached to grab it and brought it in front of my eyes, inspecting it as I remained breathless. I didn’t believe in fate. I didn’t believe in coincidences or any strange happenings. But on that Valentine’s Day, my perceptions changed. <i>To: Cassidy, Love: Your Angel.</i> I would never know if this one lone valentine that had made its way into my car that day was from my father, or if it was from some other random guy that seemed to be captivated under my spell. But I took it in stride, a token of someone watching over me. A smile crept across my lips and I surprised myself. I had never once smiled on Valentine’s Day since my father died, but this simple card showed me that maybe he still lived on in ways that couldn’t be explained. Love never had to end.