Alone in the Dark
The limousine glided through the mist like a ship in a harbour. If it had been daytime, people would have pointed and maybe even waved, but 5 am was too early to recognize a small town celebrity. The passenger of the long black car was glad that no one was up; he had made the early trip on purpose. No one would see him drive off, without a goodbye or even a tear. No one would see his tears.
The woman beside him adjusted the strap of one of her red sandals. A sash was missing from her obviously designer dress, or had it even been there? He could not remember. She opened her sequined purse and pulled out a lipstick, applied it, and carefully replaced it. She sighed. He was being too quiet, she thought. But she knew why.
They had gone to school together their whole lives. Though they had not always been friends, they always seemed to find each other, and last night had been no different. She hated seeing him this way, but it was the way he had been for many years. Two years ago she had gone to Los Angeles to visit him. He seemed happy, almost as if he had forgotten the whole thing altogether, but she should have known better. Three months after her visit, his attempted suicide was all over the news. His maid had walked in on him on the floor, pill bottles and blood all over the carpet. She had called 911, and he lived to see another pain filled two years, with scars on his wrists to prove it. And now his ten year class reunion. She had half expected him not to show up. But he came, a model on each arm and obviously drunk. Years of alcoholism and heartbreak showed on his face.
“Dan.” she said “Go see her.”. He looked into her eyes and she thought she saw tears, but he turned away. “Stop the car.” he said. He got out, lit up a cigarette, and stood there for a while, smoking in silence. She peered out of the car at the man who was only half of himself, feeling sorry for him. He got back into the car, spoke to the driver, and then sat back down next to her. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Margaret.”
The car started to move again, but it didn’t drive towards the highway. Instead it took a dusty old road, up a hill, to a church overlooking the ocean below. A rusty iron fence bordered a cemetery filled with crooked white crosses, and leaning tombstones. He got out of the car and walked to the far corner of the cemetery. It was a beautiful cemetery, unlike most. It was high up on a cliff and overlooked the ocean for miles. He walked up to a headstone. It looked as if it had been taken care of very well. A bouquet of wilted flowers lay across it. He moved them, and read the name.
He hadn’t been there for the birth of his daughter. He didn’t even know that Eliza had been pregnant until he got a phone call from his mother late one night. Every time he thought about that phone call, he would feel the same pain and guilt he had felt that night. He was so shattered that he couldn’t speak for days; he just stayed in his room, alone in the dark for weeks. After that, he pretended that nothing had happened. He never went to the funeral or to see his daughter. He knew that if he saw her he would break down again. He had been told that she was exactly like her mother. Her name was Audrey, and she would be almost 10 now. Of course he sent money every month, and she would send the odd father’s day or birthday card. But they stayed unopened and unread.
Dan started to cry and fell on to his knees. He loved her now just as much as he had loved her in the past, but he missed her more now. He could still remember her face, her lips, her hair, how she smelled, and felt. But she wasn’t coming back, and he needed to realize that, even after all the years of pretending not to. So he wiped his face, got up, and walked back to the car. They drove in silence back down the dusty road, through town, and to a white house on the outskirts of town. Dan walked up the stairs, his heart breaking though he didn’t know how it could break anymore. He knocked on the door and a small child opened it. She was dainty and fragile. Black curls framed her face and blue-green eyes danced behind them. She was every bit her mother, and for once in a very long time, Dan felt whole.
