Burning Embers

Her past holds her back, but her mother holds her back even more. If only she could rely on her dad.

The recliner was finally gone, leaving its imprints in the aging carpet. Mom said she would throw it to the curb one day, but it was my defiance that allowed the chair to stay for the past five years. I argued that he would sit in it every week that he came by to visit me. Yet, his visits became sparser over the past year and my argument soon began to falter. Two days ago, Jeff and my mother agreed on hauling it to the curb. I watched as a wrinkly old man placed it on the back of the pick-up truck. I updated Dad on the status of the chair every chance I got. He seemed less interested in it than I did.

“Yeah, the old guy just threw it on there without any ropes!” I yelled into the phone.

“Uh huh, Clara. Hopefully, it won’t fall off the back of the truck,” he responded.

“That’s what I was thinking. The guy just doesn’t care what might happen to it!”

“Well, I’m sure he wanted the chair anyway, regardless of its condition.” His response wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Could he not remember how he told me stories in that chair as I sat in his lap? Or how the cat we rescued, Muffin, would only sleep on the recliner, despite the cat bed we bought her?

It wasn’t just the recliner that was gone either. My childhood wallpaper was removed last week. My dad had taken me to Home Depot when I was six to claim the Disney princess wallpaper for my own. “You’re too old for that, Clara. It needs to go --along with the rest of the house,” my mother had told me when she was preparing the plans for the home renovation. She was grateful that Grandfather hired workers to renovate while we were away for the wedding. “We already went over every detail,” she squealed last month. “Jeff said we should have yellow walls in the dining room. What do you think, Clara?”  

“I think yellow is more outdated than Disney princesses,” I argued.

I trudged to the kitchen, my wheeled suitcase dragging behind me. The large comforter I had thrown on top kept getting stuck in the wheels as it bounced back and forth on the carpet. I hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past few nights, so I figured I would sleep the entire car ride until we reached Milwaukee. If it was up to me, I would sleep the entire trip away. I was dreading any minute that involved socializing with my mother. I could tell she was excited about the road trip. She had packed snacks, her favorite CDs, and searched for road trip games on the Internet. Though she didn’t directly state it, I knew she was excited about spending time with me.

“You’re wearing that?” My mother scrutinized my outfit when I walked into the room.

“What’s wrong with it?” I looked down at my gray sweatshirt. It wasn’t necessarily cute, but it was practical for the seven hour drive. I figured my mom was surprised that I was I dressed casually by her standards. “I’m going to be sleeping the whole time, so what’s the point?”

“Oh, it’s not that. It’s just supposed to snow up there tonight.”

“Well, I’m going to have a comforter and a blanket. I think I’m good.”

“If you say so. You don’t tell me how to run my life. I don’t tell you how－”

“Are we leaving yet?” I interrupted.

“Hold on, prissy pants! We’ll go in five seconds. I want to show you something first.” She walked over to the bar area where a box laid on top. “Here,” she took out a garment bag from the box, “It’s yours.” She searched my face for any sign of excitement, but all the happiness had been drained from it. She unzipped it to reveal a full-length maroon dress. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

I stepped forward to touch it. “It is,” I offered a slight sign of approval. “It’s great for me….and the wedding, of course! Me, the bridesmaid. You, the bride. I can’t wait.” I wondered if my displeasure was evident. Given my sleep deprivation, I didn’t want to argue. She already knew my opinion on the wedding, but I was sure that she didn’t care what I thought.

“I know! I was holding off on showing you until we left. I wish your grandfather could come with us, but the wedding is going to be small anyways. He told me, ‘I’ve seen you married once. I don’t need to see it again.’ Ha, he’s such a hoot! I’m so glad he’s paying for the remodeling for us. He didn’t have to, but he insisted that it was his wedding gift to us. Well, to me and Jeff, but….”

She rambled and I zoned out, my eyes darting to the mail sitting next to the package. I was desperate for human interaction and wondered if anything in the pile was for me. Perhaps, one of my friends had decided to mail me a letter. I doubted the thought, but I couldn’t help but investigate the mail. Before I could reach for anything, my mother snatched an envelope off the counter, “Oh, and this is for you too!”

My fingers raced across a baby blue envelope with my name written in black ink, just barely legible enough for the Post Office to decipher: Clara Warner. The address was scrawled by someone who had wanted to never write the street name again. Yet, everything about the outside of the envelope screamed that the sender wanted nothing more than to love me. The upper left corner made my heart skip a beat. Ryan Warner. Dad.

I was too anxious to open it in front of her. If I had, she would be nosy and wonder what what was included inside. I stuffed the piece of mail into my pocket and urged her out the door. “Let’s go. We need to get on the road now.”

“Okay, fine. Just check the fireplace before we leave. I’m not sure I killed the fire good enough.”

“Grandfather’s going to be here in an hour for the workers anyway. We need to go.”

“Hold on! I need to see if there’s enough firewood for them. It’s supposed to snow here too. I want them to be warm when they’re working.” She rushed to the front of the house, pulling a backpack over her shoulders.

“You’re kidding, right? Don’t you worry they’re going to start a fire? Or, maybe even get a heat stroke? Ever heard of workman’s comp?”

“Just go put it out if you’re so worried, Clara. I’ll be in the car,” she shut the door behind her as I extinguished any traces of embers from the fireplace.

✳✳✳

“Jeff can’t wait to see you.” Our car bounced along the Interstate highway.

I lurched over my seatbelt. The way she said his name was like poison. “I don’t want to see him! I want to see my real dad and you took him away from me! Like you do to everything else.”

She sighed. Maybe my outburst was too harsh? I respected their relationship, but there was no way Jeff would replace my biological father. “You know Jeff treats you like his own. He’s given you birthday money every year since we’ve been together. I thought you approved of us?”

“Dad gives me birthday money too!” It was if she had forgotten every good thing he had done in my life.

“Ryan and I split ten years ago. Can’t you just get over it? Be happy for me for once.” She reached for her pack of cigarettes and jerked the car over the line. She motioned for me to light her cigarette and I obliged without hesitation. It became a ritual between us. I would always light it and then watched her burn it down to its core. She rolled down her window a couple of inches. I huddled myself against the comforter as the cold air filtered through the vehicle.

“You’re going to be a pretty bridesmaid,” she stated with a sense of longing.

“And the only bridesmaid,” I added under my breath.

“Don’t be like that. We’re going to make so much fun out of these next two weeks.”

“And then come back to a new home in Indiana? Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

“Pfft! Lighten up. Jeff might take you driving. We might let you drink for the first time.”

My ears perked up at the two words any sixteen-year-old wanted to hear:drinking and driving. Just as long as I don’t mix those two things together. “You really mean it?” I had turned to face her in what seemed like the first time in ages.

“Yeah, who’s going to stop me? Your father?” She laughed, flicking her cigarette out of the window.

My energetic demeanor had once again vanished. “He sent me a letter, you know?” I had brought up the subject without thinking. “The one that you handed me on the way out.”

“Yeah, so what? I haven’t seen him in three months. He has another life, Clara. He has a wife and a baby.”

“The baby’s name is Heather and her mom’s name is Jessica. You can use their real names.” I defended my father like always. No matter where he was in the world or who he was with, I still considered him my dad.

“And how many times have you seen this Heather?” She very well knew the answer. We had both seen the baby a little over a year ago. Heather was already a month old when my father got around to introducing me to my half-sister. I wanted to hold it against him, but I respected his new life with his wife. After all, he still visited me and wrote me letters from time to time. We were Facebook friends at least.

My mother continued, “If that envelope doesn’t have money in it, then I’m calling him up and --”

“Fine! Why don’t we open it and see?” I took the folded letter out of my pocket and broke open its seal. Immediately, I turned the envelope over and emptied its contents. A hundred dollar bill landed in my lap. I clasped my hand over it so that the chilly wind wouldn’t whisk it away.

My mother gasped. “Huh? Money?” She almost leaned over to snatch it from my lap, or at least that’s what I thought she was going to do. “That’s it? Nothing else?”

I peered into the envelope. Within it was another smaller envelope wedged in a way so that it wouldn’t fall out. But it was what was in the corner that caught my eye. Wrapped in a thin layer of bubble wrap, packaging tape, and plain printer paper, my dad had included something that resembled a key. “No. Nothing. Just money,” I tried my best to sound disappointed.

“Well, that’s good. I guess.” She reached in between us to pull out another cigarette. “Light me.” This time I hesitated as my mind raced on what my dad possibly had in store for me. I obliged again, and lit her toxic chemicals.

✳✳✳

The flames danced with each other in the fireplace. From the moment we arrived in Milwaukee, I had no one to talk to besides my new five-year-old cousin who kept showing off his finger paintings. I wasn’t included in any adult conversation, so I stuck close to my phone and the letter from my father. The wedding was fast approaching and I still couldn’t make sense of what was inside the envelope. He had mentioned that he couldn’t wait to see me drive his old ‘97 Mustang. I didn’t get it, though. He included the key, but no other explanation. I was wondering I would see him when I go back to Indiana. I told myself if he was waiting for us at the house, then I would have to apologize for the new wallpaper and flooring. I selfishly thought he would also hate the idea of renovating his former home.

I buried my head into my knees. Voices from the other room came wavering in. I wanted to conclude that they were arguing, so that I could be proven right: no relationship can last forever. Yet, the argument weren’t like any others I had heard. There was no yelling or screaming, but there was definitely tension hidden behind their soft tones. I strained my ears to make out who was in the room and who was speaking, but I could make out nothing. The voices grew louder and I heard footsteps approaching the door. I knew now that it was my mother and Jeff. I pushed my head off of my knees and stared back at the fire.

Burning embers, the start of each flame, had drawn me in. They were calming. The firewood was dying, yet still emitting a glowing heat. I had imagined the argument had died down between the flames. They were burned out from vying for my attention. From the start of the fire to the end, my chest felt tightened, like there was a fire raging inside me. Unlike the fire before me, I felt the flames still licking up at my insides, still burning and angry.

The door to the living room swung open. I pulled my eyes away from the fire. I can’t believe I was so bored that I watched a fire, I told myself.

“Clara, you want to come outside with me for a minute?” Jeff asked as he made his way behind the couch.

I shrugged. “What for? It’s cold out,” indicating that I hadn’t the slightest motivation to move off of the couch.

He sighed, searching for words. Jeff wasn’t the best with making conversation. My mother came to his side, her phone clutched in her hand. She patted his back for him to continue speaking. “Uh, do you want to learn how to drive?” He asked me.

“Sure.” I hopped off the couch reluctantly. Finally, I can do something around here, I thought. I didn’t want to brace the cold, but at the same time, I didn’t want to be a prisoner inside a house that wasn’t even mine. I followed Jeff to the door and my mom stayed behind.

“Oh, honey!” she called out. “Do you have that envelope on you?”

I was confused why she was asking and also slightly embarrassed to admit that it was in my pocket all week. “Yeah, I do. Why?”

“Oh, nevermind, sweetie.”

I said nothing as we walked to the end of the driveway. The weather was distracting my body from moving, so I did my best to imagine that fire inside me once more. For a moment, the thought of the fire didn’t warm me, so I gathered all of my anger being in Milwaukee  and bundled it up like a fresh campfire. It barely took a second for the flames to ignite inside me.

Jeff led me to his car and I judged the paint peeling off of the corners.  The car door opened on its own, however, and I jumped back. A tall man in his mid-forties stepped out of the vehicle.

“Dad….” I spoke breathless.

“Where’s your key?” He flashed me his usual smile, but I couldn’t believe it was him.

“Dad, I….” I tried to form words but they wouldn’t come out.

“I missed you too, Clara. Now, do you want to drive the Mustang or this old hunk of junk? No offense, Jeff.” The two laughed with each other as I noticed my dad’s Mustang parked down the street. Dad continued to stand by the car door, looking down at me with a cheeky smile as if this was all a joke to him. I looked to him then to Jeff. Eventually, it clicked. They had planned this. The flames inside my chest began to die and allowed a smile to sweep across my lips. I waited to approach my father until the fire inside my chest had been reduced down to burning embers. Then they drifted away into ashes as I hugged my dad tight, tears streaming down my face.

Author's Note

This was written almost a year ago for my creative writing course. There are places I know where it should be edited, as per what my class told me, but as of right now, I do not feel like going through another edit. So, just tell me what you think. It's not well-thought out or anything --just a small story for a class assignment. Please keep this in mind if you leave a review.