My Dad

The ceiling fan groaned as it struggled to beat back the summer heat and the curtains stood still, waiting for a wind that would never come. Alexi’s laptop lay on the ground, untouched for hours and wandering through an endless playlist of “sad music”. The muted television flickered in the background as Alexi drunkenly reached for another bottle.

Startled as his phone buzzed to life, the bottle slipped, causing brown liquid to seep into the letter that sat unopened. Alexi groaned and took his shirt off, using it to mop up the mess on the table. Now it seemed, was as good a time as any to open the letter, if only to justify finally throwing it away. Lacking the finer motor skills required to open the decaying letter with finesse, he tore much of the paper with his fumbling attempts. Soaked and ripped apart, Alexi could still make out the necessary information to confirm what the letter was.

Condolences….

...$20,000….

...We know this won’t…

….Sincerely…..

Drying from the incessant heat was a somehow only slightly damaged check for $20,000, made out to cash.

Alexi breathed in sharply as a tear escaped his eye, rolling down his cheek. His phone let out another quick buzz. Groaning, Alexi stuffed the check in the back pocket of his shorts before reaching for his phone.

You have one new voicemail, please call…

Alexi tapped the phone until it dialled, then put the phone on speaker mode and threw it onto the floor. Fading into the couch as he salvaged what he could of his beer, the familiar voice of his sister emerged from his phone.

“Alexi, I know this is hard. I mean….I don’t know, but I know? If that makes sense...Look, a lot of us are getting worried about you. We want to respect your space and we know you want to be alone right now. But please…just...get out of the house or something...go for a walk..it will do you some good...I’m sorry and I love you. Talk to you soon.”

If you would like to save this mes…..

The phone died and Alexi passed out on the couch as the sun set on another day.

Stirring from his sleep, Alexi felt a sharp pain in his back, no doubt caused by the contorted position he had fallen asleep in. The midday sun attacked his eyes and the unbearable heat was present even more so than the day before. Stumbling to his feet and making his way to the kitchen, the familiar pain of a hangover set in, radiating throughout his skull. With the kettle boiling, he opened the fridge and retrieved a container of Chinese food from the day before and began eating it cold. He couldn’t stomach more than a few mouthfuls and placed the remains on the bench, looking out the window into the backyard. There he saw the swing set he had made with his bare hands. A labour of love, now serving as a bitter reminder of the reality he found himself in.

Alexi allowed himself to enjoy the scent of his coffee, soaking in the aromas of the dark, bitter brew before taking a sip as the doorbell rang. He paused, then drank again as he waited for the intruder to give up and leave.

5 minutes passed and the bell still rang. Alexi surrendered, putting on his stained shirt before making his way to the door. As the door opened, the slow burn of rage began to rise in the pits of his chest. In his doorway stood a teenage boy holding a cardboard box filled with various items and one word scrawled across the front; Rachel.

“Mr Mercer, I know you don’t want to see me right now but...:”

The teenager’s sentence fell short as he saw the tears in Alexi’s eyes. His face was a portrait of rage and misery, but the man stood silent and still.

“I gathered some of her things she had left at my house, I thought you should have them.”

Alexi stood motionless.

The boy placed the box on the ground and looked at the man with a mixture of pity and fear.

“I’m sorr…”

“Leave.” Alexi choked out the word as he felt his fists clench.

“Leave and never come back.”

The boy appeared smart enough to respect the command. Smart, or scared. As he walked away, Alexi stared at the box that sat in front of him as he mustered the strength to bring it inside.

Slipping the charger into his phone, Alexi sat down at the same couch he slept on and stared at the box. Another brown bottle had replaced his coffee and the cool liquid flowed down his throat as his eyes fell upon a little black notebook sitting in the box.

The book was filled with drawings and writings, all unmistakably the work of his late daughter. Her art was perfect in his eyes, every page he turned brought forth another tear. Whimsical poems scattered around drawing after drawing. The beer sat untouched on the table as Alexi lost himself in the book, crying as he found himself with the first smile he had felt in a long time. Then one page stopped him in his tracks.

My Dad by Rachel Mercer

My dad is not perfect

But he is very smart

I pretend not to need him

But I always miss his hugs

I get sad too much

But he never stops trying

And when I’m so sad that I feel I’ll never be happy again

He manages to put a smile on my face

And it makes me believe

My dad can do anything.

This poem kinda sucks but it was what I wanted to say.

At the bottom of the page was a drawing of a little girl and her father, holding hands and smiling.

Alexi closed the book and clutched it to his chest, so overwhelmed with emotion that his tears stopped completely. As his phone turned on, finally powered up, a card fell out from the pages of the book. He placed the book gently back into the box and picked up the card.

Blue Youth Support

Mental Health and Counseling Services

Alexi looked up to his backyard, gazing upon the swing set again as the curtains danced with a gentle breeze flowing through the windows. He picked up his phone and dialled the number on the back of the card.

“Hello” he said, pulling the check from his back pocket.

“I would like to make a donation”.