Broken Memories

I stare blankly out the car window as the world passes quickly before my eyes. As I look a little closer, I see the reflection of myself in the window staring right back at me. My voice is soft so that the driver cannot hear what I say to the reflection of myself, “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this…” I close my eyes tightly for a few moments as I start to wander away into my thoughts. I speak to myself once again to calm myself down, “My name is Leya Carter and I am twenty-six years old. I am a medical intern and I am making something of my life. I may see a therapist once a week, but at least I am getting the help I need and I am not afraid to admit that I need it. My mother’s death was not my fault. She may have died giving birth to me, but it was not my fault. I was only a newborn baby. I had no control over what happened. The past is the past.” My therapist told me to say that phrase constantly whenever I am afraid or nervous to give myself confidence. It has worked quite well for me so far.
The car then takes a sudden turn at the corner and my body shifts to the side. My eyes open wide as I stare out the window and examine the somewhat familiar area. The forest and the stream running beside it seem to flip a certain switch in the back of my mind as I start to remember. The closer I get to my destination, the clearer my memory becomes. The car suddenly comes to a complete stop and I close my eyes. I can’t believe that I’m actually back at this place after trying to avoid and forget all about it for almost ten years now. I pay the driver quickly and I step out of the car. Within a few moments, the car is gone and I am left all alone.
I crouch down on the dirt covered road and I place my hand on top of it. Last time I was on this road, I was running away. I stand up slowly and brush all of the dust off of my clothing. I reluctantly turn around and I see a large house sitting upon a hill. As I gradually move closer to the house, the details start to become more noticeable. Vines grow freely on the outside of the house and most of the windows are broken. The roof and the chimney are falling apart and the paint is faded. The place has changed drastically since I used to live here, I could hardly recognize it. The porch seems to scream at me as I step on it. My hand touches the rusty doorknob as I try to open the door.
The door swings right open to reveal a dust covered room. I can feel the presence of the unseen ghosts, or hidden memories, of my past. I close the door hastily so that nothing can escape. Suddenly, as I turn around, I trip on a nail sticking out of a board on the floor and I fall to my knees. I shut my eyes firmly as an image from the past that I had tried so hard to forget enters my head: a skinny young girl with dark brown hair and pale skin is sitting alone in her room. Her head is buried into her knees as she cries. My eyes open wide as cold sweat falls from my face. I knew that the young girl was me when I was a young girl. I did not like to think about what happened in the past, but it continues to haunt me.
And then, I see it; a wooden chair sitting in front of the ash-filled fireplace, my father’s old chair. I crawl over to it and I place my hand upon its arm rest. Suddenly another memory enters the room and comes to life before my eyes. The ghost of my father is sitting quite still on the chair, staring into the fireplace at the imaginary fire. His eyes seem vacant and a picture of my dead mother rests in his hands. Many people used to say that his spirit died when she did. Then a young, skinny, teenage girl with brown hair and pale skin walk into the room and stands in front of him; I immediately recognize the girl as me when I was sixteen years old. He looks right through her as if she wasn’t even there. She speaks softly to him, “Father…”
He is silent and acts as if he cannot hear her. Her voice becomes a little louder, “Father, please listen to me… for the first time in your life, please give me a sign that you notice me.” The silence that follows is even more painful then it was before. Tears start to fall down both my present and past face. I want to leave so badly, but I cannot move from this spot. I want to look away, but my eyes are fixed on the situation unfolding before my eyes. The girl speaks once again, the desperation cuts through her voice, “Why do you ignore me, father? Just answer that one question for me… please.”
Suddenly, my father’s eyes meet the girl’s eyes for the first time as he stands up slowly. He places his hands firmly on her shoulder and starts to shake her, “Because everything is your fault!”
I remember those words so clearly, but to hear my father say them again is enough to break my heart once more. The girl stands quite still and her eyes are wide. Her mouth opens as she tries to form words, but nothing comes out. My father then slaps her and she falls hard onto the ground. My hand covers the side of my own face where I received the same slap so many years ago. He speaks to the girl in anger, yet there is a hint of pain in his voice, “My beautiful wife is dead because of you! I loved that woman with all of my heart and she threw her own life away to give you life! It’s all your fault!”
The girl stares at the father in hopeless shock for a moment and then she stands up. She runs out of the house as tears fall down her face and my father just sits back down on his chair and gazes back at the fire. I want to run after the girl, but I knew that it was all just a memory and it would not solve anything. I came here for a reason and I had to go through with it, no matter what. I stand back up and I walk in front of my father’s ghost, my eyes stayed fixed on him. My voice is sorrowful, but has a hidden rage that wants to escape and launch at him, “How could you, father? I was only sixteen years old. But you don’t care, do you? You never cared about me. You just let me run out the door and leave! I have thought long and hard about what you said to me that day and I realize that none of it was my fault. My mother’s death was not my fault! I was just your excuse for everything bad that happened to you.” My heart rate is calming down now and the tears stop falling from my eyes, “I have come back to this place to forgive you, sense I can no longer do it in person…” My father had died a few years ago, but I did not attend his funeral because I thought that I had no business being there. I regret not going to the funeral, but I cannot linger on the past if I want to have a future and that is why I am here today. “I forgive you for everything you did to me, for ignoring me, slapping me, blaming me, and for breaking my heart. Not for your sake, but for my own.”
My father’s ghost turns to me and his eyes meet mine for a moment. Suddenly, the door swings open and a gust of wind fills the room. The image of my father slowly dissolves slowly as the wind hits it until he finally disappears. I breathe in deeply and sigh in relief. All the regrets and thoughts of the past are finally gone and it feels as though a great weight has been lifted off of me. My therapist was right once again, I am truly feeling better now that I forgave my father. I walk right back out of the door and I head down the pathway to the road. My eyes take one last glance at the house and it seems a little brighter than it was before. I lift my head up high as I turn the corner and escape the sight of the house forever.