Leaving Me

Leaving Me

A Story by xlynne
"

when those you thought you could depend on forever, leave you, your whole world is turned upside down

"
��������I watched from down the hall as my mother grabbed at my fathers arms, she sobbed and screamed and begged him to stop but he ignored her. His focus centered on the tasks he was no doubt checking off in his head: 1.) Go to bank, 2.) pack clothes, and 3.) leave family. Each check sounding a foreboding etch of permanence into his newly mapped out life. I wondered if ruin daughter's life was included in number 3 or if that was a whole separate number.
��������My mother tugged hopelessly on my dad arms, their strong, muscles flexed under his skin as he repeatedly shoved her aside. He stuffed shirts and pants and shoes that we had made memories in, into his suitcase without a second thought. I watched him pile away his gray sweater, faded from wear, with the words Chicago Bulls printed across it and remembered sitting in his lap as we watched the games. I watched him pack away his cut off jeans with the big black oil stain on the front that I had watched him wear so many times as he fixed the lawnmower. I watched him pack away the red sweater my mom had bought him last year for his birthday and I watched him pack the navy jacket that he lent me whenever we went fishing up north. He piled in his toothbrush and toothpaste, his hairbrush and razor. He zipped the suitcase up and hefted it off the bed.
��������My mother stood in the bedroom dorrway, her hands folded beneath her chin, and begged and begged. Her knees wobbly, gave in and she fell to the floor. But he paid her no attention and simply walked around her, not bothering to heavy his load with pictures of his daughter who stood in pain just a few feet away, watching the spectacle. My mom wrapped her arms around his leg and clung to him with a desperation that pierced my heart. Sheets of tears poured from her eyes and she pleaded through them for my father to stay. "Stop it, Madeline. You're making a fool of yourself." My father responded to her grasp. He shook his leg, as if he was a dog trying to rid himself of his fleas, but she refused to let go. He set his suitcase down and with his strong fingers, pried her arms from around his leg. She let them fall limply to her side and looked up at the man she loved. He looked down at her and shook his head. She cracked and her face fell into her hands. He turned away and stalked out right past me, not even bothering to break his stride with a glance in my direction.
��������I watched my father set his wedding ring, a simple gold band that he had worn everyday, on the table by the door. He pulled his coat on over his sweater, picked up his suitcase, and stepped outside. I ran to the window and watched as he put the suitcase in the back seat of the car. My fingers splayed across the freezing window pane, my breath fogging the glass, my tears drenching my cheeks, I watched my father leave us.
��������He looked up at me for a moment as he started the car but there was nothing in his eyes. No regret or remorse, no longing to hold me or dry my tears, all that laid in his eyes was determination. He looked away and backed out of the driveway, the sound of the wind whooshing against the house covered the noise of the engine. He put the car in drive and drove down the street and out of sight, his clothes, his toothbrush, his money; his whole life in the car with him as he drove off to wherever he was going.
��������I heard my mother's sobs from the hallway but I didn't go to her. So many days had I heard their arguments, so many days had I heard his threats of leaving, having it finally happen I wasn't prepared for my reaction. Barefooted, I raced out the door and down across the yard. My feet scratched against the snow's rough and freezing texture until finally, with relief for my feet, I reached cement and flat out sprinted. Occasionally I slipped on small patches of ice but I never lost momentum. Quickly I caught up with my dad and I ran to the middle of the road so he could see me in his mirror.
��������"Daddy! Daddy!" I called out. "Daddy, please stop!" A fresh set of tears erupted from the corners of my eyes and my feet slipped on the icy ground. I scratched up my knees badly on the pavement but I didn't stop. His car sped up and before long its maroon colored shape disappeared into the distance. "Daddy!" I wailed. But he didn't turn around.
�������� The cold wind whipped underneath my ratty unicorn pajamas as I numbly walked to the sidewalk and sat upon the curb, the snow seeping through the thin cotton fabric, and watched the cars pass by for sometime. A woman across the street, dressed in a pink bathrobe came out of her house to get her paper. She spotted me and stood there for a moment searching around. She finally made up her mind and crossed the street to me. She bent down so she was at my eye level and asked me what I was doing sitting out here in the cold. I wiped away the tear stains with the back of my hand and gazed into the woman's deep green eyes. "My daddy left me today." I whispered.

© 2009 xlynne


Author's Note

xlynne
criticism, advice, any comments whatsoever appreciated and welcomed!!!!!!!!!!

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Reviews

It shocks me to think that thease things happen every day.
Some people can be so cold and others so pathetic ...like the b*****d and Madline, how can some ppl live with themselvs after s*** like that?
The part when the child cries out for the father, is very touching.

A.M.

Posted 14 Years Ago


Your attention to detail is very unusual, which is good. Like a breath of fresh air, actually. You are one of the few whom can make first person perspective not seem cheesy. Nicely done.

Posted 14 Years Ago


Your detailing brings your work alive (oil stain, Chicago Bulls) and gives it such a richness and reality. You are able to paint with such depth and emotion that grips the reader so quickly. Try and find some short story contests online to enter this one in! Brilliant!

Craig

Posted 14 Years Ago


Okay, so I'm crying.

This was a wonderfully written story! I loved it! That last line was what really got me in tears. "My daddy left me today," I whispered.

Amazing. Great job!

Posted 14 Years Ago


loosing someone to the dreadful fate of death is one thing; loosing them to a choice of their freewill is another! when death's arms entangle our loved ones, we know they had no choice (with the exception of suicide of course), that they had to go. we still get angry and try to blame them of course, but eventually we come to our senses and realize the truth.

but when they choose to leave us behind, it's a very different kind of pain we experience. one tainted by guilt, what if's and anger. similar to the pain brought on by death, but it seems to last longer.

what you have written here breaks my heart. it is not excellent or amazing. it is tragically good writing. it's a tragedy that such situations in life have to exist to be written about. you have done a wonderful job relaying it.

Posted 14 Years Ago


EXCELLENT!!! you are a very strong writer, the way you craft your sentences, it all fits so well together. i esp loved this story, because i had a similar situation happen to me when i was a little girl, age six. except, instead of my dad leaving us, my mother, brother and i left him.

.......I remember as we drove down the road in our brown station wagon in late 80's, a song from the Pet Shop Boys playing in my ear, now seeming like a song from a soundtrack to this day of confusion. "where are we going mommy?" i asked. my mind so young and quizzical, i was always thinking, wondering. "away from here, on a vacation," she replied. but i knew it wasn't a vacation but away from my daddy, whose babies were surfing, alcohol, and the white powder he sniffed. we were going away.....and i never regretted it.

man,,,you inspired me!!! thanks so much!! will you have more of this wonderful story? an extension?

Kena



Posted 14 Years Ago


It was awesome, i loved reading every single word of it. You portrayed all the feelings very well. Commendable!!!

Posted 14 Years Ago



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Added on November 7, 2008
Last Updated on May 13, 2009

Author

xlynne
xlynne

MI



About
Hello, I like to incorporate prose into my stories, I have no preference on writing stories over poems but I find the latter comes easier. I like to use elegant descriptions that flow through sent.. more..

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