Waiting

I sit at the bar fidgeting, waiting for my date to arrive. I rarely drink, so I am sipping a ginger ale and constantly glancing at my watch - I actually hate this Apple watch as you have to tilt in just right to get the display to appear and show the time. 

I keep telling myself to wear my old, traditional watch, but keep forgetting. Besides, who uses a watch these days when the phone is right there - the so-called smart phone that has replaced cameras, watches, organizers and so forth. I see the time and she is ten minutes late, my stomach churns, I think back to one of the many times dad kept me waiting.

Friday is a difficult day at school, I am anxious, I cannot wait to get home. I talked to him last night, confirming he would pick me up after work.

“We can grab some pizza and watch movies and then hit the car show Saturday.”

I loved the car show, not really the cars, but I loved watching dad as he lit up talking about each car and explaining the work done to the cars as well as stories of cars he had previously owned. And, most important, there was no alcohol at the car show, so it was a calm day ahead.

I reminded mom when I headed to the bus stop this morning, she shot me a worried look “Okay, but don’t get your hopes up, you know what I mean?”

I certainly knew what she meant. Dad had missed a few scheduled pickups, but his reasons always made sense as he had car problems; had to work late and one time he was in jail. Of course, I never learned these details until much later - the wait had been excruciating, but I was always just glad he was ok.

The school day inched along. I forced myself to eat lunch as my stomach was in knots. There were only two choices for those on free lunch plan - I chose the grilled cheese. Everybody talked about their weekend plans as we ate, I boldly announced the planned car show, the jealousy was awesome.

All of the other kids had chores planned, baseball practice and working on a big science project due soon with the help of their dads. I made a mental note to put finishing touchings on my project - no help needed or requested.

I watched the clock in sixth period with my English teacher, Mrs Jones, reprimanding me for staring out the window and not working on the assignment. It wasn’t really trouble as I was on the honor roll, she was just telling me she was watching. I darted from the room as the bell rang, I was the first on the bus, staring at driver, willing them to take off.

I half ran home from the bus stop - a long walk as they drop us off at the trailer park entrance, why not enter? Was it a problem with the weight/size of the bus or just we didn’t count?

The trailer is sweltering as I swing the door open, I switch on the box fan in the window and stand in front of it. A quick look at the kitchen clocks says I have one and half hours until dad arrives - this gives him 30 minutes from quitting time to arrive. 

I stuff clothes in the gym bag I had earned by selling the most candy bars earlier in the school year. I throw a book in there, even though dad says reading is stupid. I roam the house, pacing back and forth, and finally take a seat on the steps to wait. I sit, staring at the corner by the double wide trailer across the street, waiting for the grey Camaro.

“Hey honey, too hot inside?” Mom greets me as she arrives from work.

“Nah, just thought I’d wait out here.” 

“Oh, okay, well, traffic is bad today. I am going to Rosie’s later, you can join me if your dad is busy.” She pats my back while climbing the stairs and going inside. The frown on her face is noticeable.

I stand as I hear cars approach and stream by. The sky darkens as the sun lowers. I decide to walk to the front of the park to watch for him. I grab my bag and navigate my way behind other homes before emerging near the front and the highway.

I watch as cars turn and enter, slowing for the speed bumps and racing down the street. As darkness overtakes the day, I see headlights approaching behind me. I heart jumps, I must’ve missed him pass by, I scramble to the road and all air leaves my body as I see mom approach.

“Hey, there you are, get in, we can grab pizza and head out.” She motions to the passenger seat and I slowly approach and fall into the seat.

“Can you just take me home, I want to wait, he’ll be here soon. He probably had to work late, you know he keeps that place running.” I will myself to believe it.

“It’s eight o’clock honey, he’s not coming. We can call him tomorrow.”

“No, I want to wait.” The argument continues a few minutes before she relents.

“Okay, but I wish you would go with me. I will bring you some pizza, I won’t be late.” She speeds away as I sit on the porch before going inside.

After a couple hours and no sight of him, I grab the phone and dial his number. It rings, one, two, three, four, five …. my heart races as I prepare to hang up until I hear a click.

“Ugh, haloooooo?”

“Hey dad, glad you are okay, I thought you were picking me up tonight.”

“Wale, who is this? Welllll, it, I, sooo much going, okay.” 

The line is dead as I sit there staring at the wood paneling - are the grooves in the panels supposed to make it look like wood planks? I know he was hammered, drunk again. I never heard from him that weekend, it was devastating, I lied to all the kids at school as I told them how much fun I had at the car show. 

The emptiness of that day, and many more like it, left a scar on my psyche. My heart beat races when people are late for meetings or a date like tonight. I instantly feel like a lost child, abandoned and not wanted. 

Therapists have explained abandonment issues with me repeatedly, and I’ve done the work that makes it all better until moments like this when I am that nine year old sitting on those rickety, wooden steps waiting for that gray car to turn the corner. 

“Hey, I am so sorry I am late.” She smiles while leaning in for a quick hug, resting an elbow on the bar and looking into my eyes while rubbing my shoulder with her other hand.

“Hey there, not a big deal.”

“Oh my god, you won’t believe this, but my phone died, I am so sorry, have you been waiting long?

“I just got here myself.” I motion to the bartender to get her a drink while resisting the urge to examine her phone to validate the story.