The Foretelling
The Prodigal Father
My mother and I waited for hours in the living room. The sun winked out of existence behind the houses across the street while the streetlights flickered on. I found myself dozing off on the couch by the window but my mother sat upright the entire time in the stuffed chair next to me. Nothing distracted her gaze from the window. Every time I heard or saw a car driving down the road, I sat up, only to be disappointed time and time again.
It was frustrating, to say the least. At least my mother knew something. I was in the dark.
It was 11:31 P.M. when my dad’s lanky figure finally crossed the threshold of our house. My mother sprang up to meet him. She was crying and leaning her head against his chest. He paused at first but seemed to melt into her as he linked his arms around her. He looked at me and gently pulled away from her.
I stood up. I didn’t realize my legs felt so weak until then but I kept standing. I had spent nearly five hours waiting for him to come home from somewhere I didn’t know, where he doing something I would never come to fully know. I didn’t want to, but I felt the threat of a tear filling my eye but I pushed it down. Not here, not now.
He stood in front of me without moving for a while.
“Wendy,” he said. “I’m sorry. I had to take care of something.”
“Where were you?” was my only response.
“You might not understand right now-”
“I’m an adult.”
“Wendy-”
“I’m a fucking adult!” I shouted at him. One hot tear rolled down my face and I resented it but I didn’t wipe it away.
My mother was the one to speak next, “Wendy, you don’t know-”
“Then tell me! Tell me what it is so I don’t have to keep running around like a - like a stupid child!"
“Wendy, Wendy, listen to me.” My dad demanded. In his hand, I noticed an envelope. The edges were crumbled, as if someone had been wringing it and straightening it out for a long period of time.
“Take this,” he said, pushing the envelope to me where it fell into my open hands. It wasn’t heavy. I opened it. “Inside,” he continued, “you’ll find one AAA card, a debit card, and a credit card. Now, I’m not sure just how much is on the debit card or what the limit for the credit card is but if you-”
“What is all of this, Dad?” I asked him. “Why are you doing this?”
He paused. A shadow of an emotion passed his face. He tried to contain it, to be the one who called the shots, but the effort was fruitless. I could see him thaw out just a little as worry started to line his face.
“Wendy, this is for you. Everything in that envelope is for you. Don’t use any of it until we, your mother and I, tell you to, alright?”
“Just-”
“Wendy, tell me that you understand what I just told you.”
I waited. “I do. I understand.”
“Good. You still have that gas card?”
“Yeah. It’s somewhere in my room, I think.”
“I want you to know where it is, alright? Don’t get it right now, but in the next couple of days, make sure you know where that card is; where everything in that envelope is. Okay?”
With my fingers, I brushed my hair away from my face and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I could feel the heat rise to my face and I hated it. My dad just put his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye.
“You’re going to have to trust us on this one, yeah?” he asked, his eyes were soft.
“Wendy,” my mother said, joining my dad’s side. She cupped my chin and said, “There are things we will never be sure of; things we’ll never be ready for. But it helps,” she said, taking a moment to smile at me, “if you’ve got someone on your side.”
It was frustrating, to say the least. At least my mother knew something. I was in the dark.
It was 11:31 P.M. when my dad’s lanky figure finally crossed the threshold of our house. My mother sprang up to meet him. She was crying and leaning her head against his chest. He paused at first but seemed to melt into her as he linked his arms around her. He looked at me and gently pulled away from her.
I stood up. I didn’t realize my legs felt so weak until then but I kept standing. I had spent nearly five hours waiting for him to come home from somewhere I didn’t know, where he doing something I would never come to fully know. I didn’t want to, but I felt the threat of a tear filling my eye but I pushed it down. Not here, not now.
He stood in front of me without moving for a while.
“Wendy,” he said. “I’m sorry. I had to take care of something.”
“Where were you?” was my only response.
“You might not understand right now-”
“I’m an adult.”
“Wendy-”
“I’m a fucking adult!” I shouted at him. One hot tear rolled down my face and I resented it but I didn’t wipe it away.
My mother was the one to speak next, “Wendy, you don’t know-”
“Then tell me! Tell me what it is so I don’t have to keep running around like a - like a stupid child!"
“Wendy, Wendy, listen to me.” My dad demanded. In his hand, I noticed an envelope. The edges were crumbled, as if someone had been wringing it and straightening it out for a long period of time.
“Take this,” he said, pushing the envelope to me where it fell into my open hands. It wasn’t heavy. I opened it. “Inside,” he continued, “you’ll find one AAA card, a debit card, and a credit card. Now, I’m not sure just how much is on the debit card or what the limit for the credit card is but if you-”
“What is all of this, Dad?” I asked him. “Why are you doing this?”
He paused. A shadow of an emotion passed his face. He tried to contain it, to be the one who called the shots, but the effort was fruitless. I could see him thaw out just a little as worry started to line his face.
“Wendy, this is for you. Everything in that envelope is for you. Don’t use any of it until we, your mother and I, tell you to, alright?”
“Just-”
“Wendy, tell me that you understand what I just told you.”
I waited. “I do. I understand.”
“Good. You still have that gas card?”
“Yeah. It’s somewhere in my room, I think.”
“I want you to know where it is, alright? Don’t get it right now, but in the next couple of days, make sure you know where that card is; where everything in that envelope is. Okay?”
With my fingers, I brushed my hair away from my face and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I could feel the heat rise to my face and I hated it. My dad just put his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye.
“You’re going to have to trust us on this one, yeah?” he asked, his eyes were soft.
“Wendy,” my mother said, joining my dad’s side. She cupped my chin and said, “There are things we will never be sure of; things we’ll never be ready for. But it helps,” she said, taking a moment to smile at me, “if you’ve got someone on your side.”