Changes

Robert had changed, on that the whole gang was agreed. A long-time fixture in their social scene, his jet black, shoulder length hair, solid six-foot-four frame padded with twenty pounds of good living made him somewhat intimidating. So too did his strongly held, combatively expressed opinions. All the same, he was well-liked, always up for a beer or, even better, a night on the beer. His marriage to Sharon didn’t change any of this, she simply became part of the gang.

No, it was Fatherhood that changed him. Sarah, to be precise. From the day she was born Robert was a different person. Oh, he was still up for a beer, but just the one. His strong opinions were replaced with an inexhaustible capacity to talk about Sarah’s latest accomplishment. Sleeping through the night, feeding herself, walking, talking, there was always another milestone worthy of proclamation as far as Robert was concerned. There was a phase when he’d complain about how stiff and sore he was from sleeping on the floor beside Sarah’s Little Mermaid bed after one of her bad dreams. But you knew from his beaming smile there was no place he’d rather be. On those occasions someone mentioned the change in him to Sharon, she’d smile and blame it on ‘the other woman in his life’.

***

Other than her jet-black hair, Sarah is a mini version of Sharon. And the two of them are close, almost inseparable. Except for Saturdays, when Sharon works ’til ten and I get Sarah all to myself. It’s the highlight of my week. Sometimes we go to a restaurant, sometimes we see a movie, but we always wind up here, in the armchairs by the fireplace at the Java Hut.

Sarah still favours jeans, hoodies, and ponytails, but then she’s only twelve. She’s a good kid. Smart, funny, and great company. I love listening as she fills me in on the latest drama playing out in her world.

Oh god, Dad, my homeroom teacher is such a jerk.

Mr. Sampson? Why’s that?

Oh, where to begin? She pauses in thought, faced with a smorgasbord of offenses. Well, today, he yelled at me for talking in class when it wasn’t me.

Did you tell him that?

Yes! But then he called me a liar in front of the whole class! Jeannie even told him it was her who was talking.

And?

Nothing! He just went back to whatever he was blabbering on about before he went all psycho on me.

No apology?

No! I’m telling you, he’s a jerk. But I didn’t let it go. After class I told him I didn’t appreciate being called a liar.

What’d he say?

He said, ‘I guess I’m sorry.’ She says his words in her doofus-voice.

That’s hardly sincere.

I know, right! And then he has the gall to say, ‘So, am I forgiven?’ Doofus-voice again.

I shake my head and chuckle at the absurdity of this. Wow, that’s a bit much.

I know, right! So, I told him, ‘I’ll have to think about it’, and walked out of class.

I start to laugh but catch myself and put on my serious-Dad-face. Sarah, I love that you stick up for yourself but keep in mind he’s still your teacher. Be careful you don’t cross the line.

She stares at me, smirking. I manage another five seconds of serious-Dad-face before we both crack up laughing.

***

As I walk into the police station, I glance over at the waiting area and feel a sense of relief at seeing no one we know. I make my way to the main desk and tell the duty officer I’m here to pick up our daughter.

Name please?

My daughter? Sarah Hall.

Take a seat please, sir.

The seat I choose faces a large window separating me from the darkness outside. A stranger looks back at me. Streaks of grey run like fault lines through his hair, and his face looks ten years older than I am. My god Sharon, I’ve aged since you’ve been gone.

An officer appears with Sarah in tow. Jeans, hoodies and ponytails are a thing of the past, Sharon. So too is her jet-black hair. It’s some sort of florescent pinkish-red at the moment. Between the hair, clothes, makeup and attitude, there’s not much left of our little girl.

I sign some forms, thank the officer, and we’re on our way. The silence between us makes the ten-minute drive home seem like an hour, and the past year a lifetime. As soon as we get through the front door Sarah makes a beeline for her room.

Sarah! Stop! We need to talk about this!

What’s there to talk about?

Maybe the fact that I just picked you up at the police station!

She says nothing, unless you count the fuck-you-Dad look I get such a steady diet of these days.

Jesus, I don’t know what to say to you anymore, Sarah! You were supposed to be at school! Drinking’s bad enough, but during the day?

So it’s better if I drink at night?

No! Jesus Sarah, don’t play stupid with me, you’re fifteen!

So what? I don’t know what your big deal is with drinking. Maybe you should try it sometime. Better than sitting in your room all night talking to mom’s picture.

An ice-cold wave washes over me, the frigid waters of grief sweep away my will to fight.

I miss her too, Sarah. Every minute of every hour of every day.

Why did it have to be her that died?

Ah, so there it is. I’m not you, Sharon. That’s my unforgivable sin. I don’t know what to say right now. At this moment. At any moment. Jesus, I don’t know how long I can keep this up.

Sarah, what’s happening to us?

Nothing. Silence. Fuck-you-Dad silence.

***

The Java Hut got rid of the armchairs a long time ago, so me and Dad are sitting across from one another at a table for two. His hair is almost completely grey now. I probably had a hand in that. I can’t do Saturdays anymore, with Tom and all, so we do Thursdays instead. I’m not sure which of us looks forward to it more. I’ve been going on and on about the wedding plans for close to an hour when I finally get around to popping the question.

Dad, me and Tom want you to live with us when we move into the new place.

This clearly catches him off guard. Oh Sarah, I can’t. You and Tom are going to need your space, being newly weds.

You’d have the basement apartment, so we’d all have our space.

I don’t know, Sarah. What does Tom have to say about this?

He’s good with it. One hundred percent. He really likes you. You know that, right?

I’m easy to like when I live across town.

I give him a look, so he tries another tack. Okay, what if I meet someone I want to share my life with. Wouldn’t that be a bit awkward, us being in your basement?

Dad, has there ever been another woman in your life since Mom died?

He smiles sheepishly. We both know the answer to that one. But he’s smiling. This is good. For so long any mention of Mom would set him back.

I reach across the table and take both his hands in mine. I want you close to me, Dad. I give his hands a little squeeze. I need you close to me.

Okay, he said. I’ll give it some thought.

You know I’m not going to take ‘no’ for an answer, right?

I know by the way he’s looking at me I’m going to get my way.

***

Watching Dad change Natalie’s diaper has to be one of my favorite things. He makes such a big production of it. It all starts with the Big Reveal when he first lays eyes upon what lurks beneath. This diaper is a messy one, so he dramatically averts his eyes while howling in mock horror, Holy mother of God!

He looks back at the diaper, then looks her straight in the eyes and wails, In the name of all that’s holy!

Natalie responds with giggles to each of his protestations, and as he cleans her, he keeps up the act.

Nasty!

Dear god!

What did you eat?

More giggles.

The joyous sounds of the two of them together, oblivious to the world around them, warm the house as much as a summer sun. We don’t do Thursdays anymore. No need. Dad’s always here. With Natalie. I wonder if Mom felt like this, when I was ‘the other woman in his life’.