SOMBER-RESPLENDENCE
“… life sucks, time flies, then you die …”
31 Oct 2014
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“Dad, was that reaaally you?”
Dad struggles to see the picture his daughter’s holding up.
Adjusting the helmet of his cumbersome robo-cardboard box costume, he’s able to peep through the mesh cut-out.
A youth in uniform has both thumbs up, with one leg over a bad-ass car.
He judges the image. Barely recognizes himself.
While not so proud now looking back, he’s not completely ashamed either.
As, despite everything, his little girl is with him, safe and sound.
“That was me once upon a time baby heart, from when I met mamma bear 8 years ago.. ….right after my first deployment.”
The cramped and cluttered little SC apartment with no A/C felt stiffer and emptier at the end of his sentence.
He takes the picture from her tiny little hand, analyses it closer.
“This is a snapshot of an era where you didn’t have to pay for grocery bags, and Netflix worked only through the mail, and….
–Wowsers, it really feels like forever ago… so much has happened since–“
He places the photo down on the flimsy and worn out Ikea dinner table, and runs his arms from his elbows up and down, and head side to side,
“Memory overload, re-starting. Re-starting. error 404, error, erreeeeeerrrrr.”
His mummified, wrapped in double-ply toilet paper daughter giggles, “Don’t be a draaaaama queen da-, I mean, Mr. Roboto, your random access memory ain’t that old!”
She moves the photo and her unfinished birthday-cupcake to the side.
Empties the zip lock bag full of priceless polaroids, printouts, and little souvenirs onto their kitchen table.
Spreads it out.
Nemeny had specifically wished for his photo stash for her big day.
For December, she’ll probably ask for his dress blues jacket, so she can be a coat next Halloween.
Dad always says yes, even if he doesn’t really want to.
She masterfully put together the materials in what appears to be a logical chronological order she can imagine a voice to.
She’s so glad mom liked to take so many pictures, despite her–
Her eyes scan a picture of a surprisingly much more fashionable and slimmer dad, smiling brighter than she’s ever noticed, hugging mom.
Her back leg raised up on him a little.
} He’s changed so much and looks so distant {
The voice from after the accident creeps in her mind and looks along,
Well well well… …how unexpectedly uninspiring. And, pathetic.
Nemeny ignores it and asks if she solved the Dee-Ay-Dee picture puzzle.
Dad stands up and bends slightly over the table in his card-board costume, moving mechanically.
…”Processing, processing…”
As his hands reorganize a few pics; piston and hydraulic noises escape him.
He discreetly double taps a bell in his pocket, **Ding-ding! **
“Task complete!”…
And stays frozen in place.
Nemeny laughs and gives him a hug, she loves it when he commits to the cosplay bit.
She knows him well enough that this isn’t easy nor fun for him, despite the act.
Standing in front of the finished flashbacks his daughter brought together, he continued to remain paralyzed in time and space:
A young Marine is back to the Camp Lejeune barracks life, but this time, things are different.
He’s wiser now. Salty.
Fresh from Operation Iraqi Freedom, 2005, he’s got the keys to the world ahead of him:
A recent promotion, Lance Corporal, one chevron up, with crossed rifles in the center.
3 medals added and a good cookie award around the corner.
Substantial deployment savings.
And a fast-tracked citizenship to boot.
It’s official, he’s now a real member of the U.S.A club, the paper-work is legit and signed off on.
No more worrying about being bothered and othered by immigration.
He feels untouchable. Accomplished. A part of something bigger and better.
First order of business; his dream car, a 2006 Lancer Evolution Evo IX; with the wicked-white paint job.
He felt different from the other Marines, because they got the retro-futuristic Mustangs, with the skittle-color options.
Plus, he lucked out with a competitive “Cleared-hot” 19% interest rate from the dealer, the others were getting 26%.
He takes plenty of pictures of himself and his new whip to upload to his MySpace profile.
The base is surrounded by brilliant lights and glares from the street posts and adverts.
Car dealerships, fast food, trophy & uniform stores; strip joints, churches, pawn shops and Walmarts.
Oh, and ABC boards, Waffle Houses, and all you can eat Golden Corral buffets.
The Marine met a girl from off base he likes, an Irish-Dominican mix hottie.
She’s confident she’ll be a famous back-up dancer someday.
The Marine knew deep down she was not like the other girls.
She was unique and special. Always agreeable, cute, humble and soft spoken.
Texting him from time to time from her college classes, just an hour away, with, “hw r u baby? Miss u. See you this 96? Pick me up at 8?”.
Couldn’t believe how lucky he was, how beautiful she is, he always found himself saying yes dear, yes.
Her voice, her eyes… …the love struck dates and countless follow up message replies.
He promised he’d work hard, make money, keep them safe.
She promised loyalty, hot meals, and a clean house.
She’s a simple Christian girl, and really wanted to have a kid.
Dreams of completing her role as a woman by being a mom.
He figures he’s a genius. Can see openings nobody else can see.
If they got married, he’d have a bigger paycheck, what with BAH and BAS and all.
All he had to do is stay enlisted until he retired, and there’d be a steady check no matter what.
As long as his body was fit for service for the nation, they’d be set for life.
They’d rent somewhere cheap right off of base so he could pocket the difference.
She’d take care of the kid and the house, no worries there. She’s got incentive to stay a while, forever maybe.
All he had to worry about was getting really good at pulling out, or maybe he could buy her surgery.
The young family man dream, he was going to be a dad someday.
Outside, a group of children yell out obnoxiously,
“Trick O’ Treat!”
The North Carolina barracks memory fast forwards back to a South Carolina apartment reality.
Dad gently takes a step back, hoping he wasn’t standing there for too long.
Didn’t want Nemeny to think he was weird.
A photo fell down, a tear drop splashed unseen against the inside of his cardboard helmet.
The sniffle was audible though, as he bent down to pick up the picture.
His favorite one of her from so long ago.
She’s gone, but she really wasn’t.
It was a rough relationship, he learned so much.
He notes that Nemeny doesn’t seem to remember the big arguments since the car crash.
He hates himself for thinking it, but in a way, he hopes she can just let it go and forget.
} He must still be hurting for her {
She takes the photo from his hand and puts in back on the table.
This is her project.
Perfect timing, ask him then… …Like I said, I was here before.
Just because you can’t remember, doesn’t mean I forgot.
Nemeny asks, a tinge ashamed, “Dad, why did mom leave us?”
“You really don’t remember baby heart?”
Nemeny shakes her head, no.
Dad touches the bandages over her head gently.
He’s crushed to see his daughter this way, yet thankful she’s alive and will be okay.
“Well, ehrm. You know I’m always honest with you kiddo… You know how you started talking to yourself and wanted us to call you Nemeny for a bit?”
Told you!
Nemeny shakes her head, no.
“Well, for her, that was the last straw and quite frankly, mines also.
You know how she was so, you know, religious and always worried about what other people think…?”
Nemeny nods yes.
“She thought you were possessed or something ridiculous like that and… I wasn’t having that and…
Plus, after not being able to re-enlist in the Marines I was, maybe, not as…”
Nemeny is listening, holds his hand as he works through it,
“I’ll say it this way, I wasn’t worth her, time and, energy…?”
Dad kisses Nemeny’s hand with his cardboard drawing of a smiling robot mouth.
“Your mom is looking out for herself she, came from a tough life and…”
He puts the remaining tray of dollar general cupcakes away in the fridge.
“…We have to look at the whole picture, money is very important and, what not.”
Dad is trying not to accidentally trip and cry over his sentences.
He still doesn’t know how to explain it, and finds the words hard to tie together over the knots in his throat.
} I shouldn’t ask {
Do it. We all need to be on the same page and you have to close your loops.
He’s stronger than he looks, give him some credit. Now, Ask him.
Nemeny unplugs her phone from the charger, scrolls around her screen for a post from 3 weeks ago, wishes to know how they should feel about this;
Her mom was on Facebook, started the day posting pictures of her fancy coffee-latte and carrot cake, ending the day celebrating a proposal from an older and noticeably well-off gentleman.
The robot stayed there silent, his vocaloid out of service.
The shadow voice lets out a brain sigh.
…tell him its alright, that you don’t think about her anymore
“It’s okay dad, I doesn’t bother me. I just want to know how we should feel about it…”
Dad shares he saw it also.
Doesn’t share that he hates her for not calling her daughter.
Hates her most of all for that.
“She’s happy babyface. So, we should also be happy for her, and, I think we need to work on our own happiness while giving her her space.
We just gotta stick together until, we’re in a better place as well. Good things are coming sweetie, I promise.”
Nemeny looks up to him.
She’s precocious enough to see completely through his tough card-board and aluminum foil costume.
Gives him another hug.
Thanks him for the best birthday ever, as she takes pictures of the pictures on the table using her phone.
There was a magenta scrunchy. She smelled it, it smelled nice. She wore it on her wrist.
He asks if there were any other queries, but his enthusiasm wasn’t there anymore.
} Do we care what my name was before? {
No, we don’t. Besides, I already told you but your blocking yourself on some of these things so..
Trust me for now, won’t you?
Nemeny lets him off.
“Domo arigato Mr. Ro, I mean, dad.”
With a mouth full of cupcake she says, “WUVS you!”
Stays admiring her picture layout, absorbing the story it tells while she chews, licking the Choco-frosting off her finger tips.
Still suspicious of the voice that keeps seeping into her head. She knows that can’t be normal.
…I can hear you you know…
Robo-Dad opens the fridge, then closes it, like he forgot something.
He opens it again.
Helps himself to a 6 pack of bottled drinks.
Keeps himself composed as he robo-walks to his room, telling his daughter he loves her and, to, not stay up too late.
Retreating, like he always does when things get hard.
The voice can’t help itself.
…avoidance behaviors… …like I said, pathetic…