sleep since she mentioned it to me,” he admits. “But I have also been expecting your mother’s ghost to show up for the big day, so I hope you’ll forgive me for mixing up our party guests.”
Even through my sadness, he is able to coax a smile from me. He seems better than when I left—still wistful and brokenhearted, but in higher spirits. “I missed you, Dad,” I whisper, and this time the emotion does cause my voice to break.
“I missed you too, sweetheart.” His gentle gait is almost noiseless as he crosses the room toward me. He places two big, warm hands on each of my shoulders. “Let me look at you. My little Helen! You’re all grown up.”
I nod, lowering my chin to look at the ground. “Dad, I’m sorry that I left…”
“None of that,” he tells me kindly. “You were unhappy, and your happiness is the most important thing in the world to me. Now stop moping and let your old man give you a hug.”
I don’t need to be offered twice. I dive forward, burying my face against his shoulder. His arms encircle me, and for the first time in years, I truly feel like I have a home. I smell his familiar fatherly cologne, mingling with the flowers all around us. I am filled with such a deep joy, that I am almost sure I must be daydreaming.
“Are you going to stay with us, Helen?” he asks me in a quiet voice.
A pang of sorrow strikes my heart, and I remember how miserable and melancholy he was when I left home. I suddenly realize that the man I am hugging does not feel anything like the man my father used to be. His frame is skeletal and gaunt. His arms and shoulders are no longer large and firm with muscle, but wiry with bone. His skin is paper-thin, stretched over his bones like saran wrap.
I am stricken with the knowledge that I could lose him, just like I lost my mother. Carmen mentioned that he had suffered a heart attack. Has she been taking care of him? The big house suddenly feels very lonely. I realize that my father has no one. Even if Carmen hasn’t been neglecting him, now that she is getting married, Dad will be even less of a priority to her. He needs me.
“I would like to stay,” I tell him softly. “That is—if you’re not too upset at me. If you want me to stay.”
“Of course, I do!” he says, tightening the hug. “Who else is going to keep your sister from driving me mad?”
I smile. A pair of timid footsteps distract me, and I pull away from him and look in their direction. “Carmen?” I say with anticipation, but I know that the footsteps sound nothing like my sister’s.
“No, no,” my father says. “That’s our new housekeeper, Natalia. She’s here to help out with the wedding.”
“Oh,” I say in disappointment, realizing that I am actually eager to see my sister. “Hello, Natalia.”
“Good morning, Miss,” says the housekeeper.
“This is Helen, my youngest daughter,” my father says, introducing me with a hand on my back. “She’s a writer. She is blind, but don’t let that fool you—she’s the smartest person in the family, and she will give you much less trouble than Carmen.”
I hear the tone of pride in his voice, and I am pleasantly surprised. This homecoming has been a lot less painful than I expected.
“Natalia, will you please take Helen’s suitcase up to her room and unpack for her?” my father requests. “I want to have breakfast with my daughter and catch up on the last few years.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Winters!” says the housekeeper. “It was nice meeting you, Helen.”
I nod, following her footsteps with my eyes. I turn back to my father. “So, where’s Carmen?”
My father laughs, a deep-throated rumble. “I don’t know what’s going on with that girl. She’s probably just hung over from drinking too much last night at her bachelorette party. I guess it’s just you and me, kiddo.”
I frown at this news. When Carmen called at 5 AM, she did not sound drunk or hung over to me. But it would explain her crying
Even through my sadness, he is able to coax a smile from me. He seems better than when I left—still wistful and brokenhearted, but in higher spirits. “I missed you, Dad,” I whisper, and this time the emotion does cause my voice to break.
“I missed you too, sweetheart.” His gentle gait is almost noiseless as he crosses the room toward me. He places two big, warm hands on each of my shoulders. “Let me look at you. My little Helen! You’re all grown up.”
I nod, lowering my chin to look at the ground. “Dad, I’m sorry that I left…”
“None of that,” he tells me kindly. “You were unhappy, and your happiness is the most important thing in the world to me. Now stop moping and let your old man give you a hug.”
I don’t need to be offered twice. I dive forward, burying my face against his shoulder. His arms encircle me, and for the first time in years, I truly feel like I have a home. I smell his familiar fatherly cologne, mingling with the flowers all around us. I am filled with such a deep joy, that I am almost sure I must be daydreaming.
“Are you going to stay with us, Helen?” he asks me in a quiet voice.
A pang of sorrow strikes my heart, and I remember how miserable and melancholy he was when I left home. I suddenly realize that the man I am hugging does not feel anything like the man my father used to be. His frame is skeletal and gaunt. His arms and shoulders are no longer large and firm with muscle, but wiry with bone. His skin is paper-thin, stretched over his bones like saran wrap.
I am stricken with the knowledge that I could lose him, just like I lost my mother. Carmen mentioned that he had suffered a heart attack. Has she been taking care of him? The big house suddenly feels very lonely. I realize that my father has no one. Even if Carmen hasn’t been neglecting him, now that she is getting married, Dad will be even less of a priority to her. He needs me.
“I would like to stay,” I tell him softly. “That is—if you’re not too upset at me. If you want me to stay.”
“Of course, I do!” he says, tightening the hug. “Who else is going to keep your sister from driving me mad?”
I smile. A pair of timid footsteps distract me, and I pull away from him and look in their direction. “Carmen?” I say with anticipation, but I know that the footsteps sound nothing like my sister’s.
“No, no,” my father says. “That’s our new housekeeper, Natalia. She’s here to help out with the wedding.”
“Oh,” I say in disappointment, realizing that I am actually eager to see my sister. “Hello, Natalia.”
“Good morning, Miss,” says the housekeeper.
“This is Helen, my youngest daughter,” my father says, introducing me with a hand on my back. “She’s a writer. She is blind, but don’t let that fool you—she’s the smartest person in the family, and she will give you much less trouble than Carmen.”
I hear the tone of pride in his voice, and I am pleasantly surprised. This homecoming has been a lot less painful than I expected.
“Natalia, will you please take Helen’s suitcase up to her room and unpack for her?” my father requests. “I want to have breakfast with my daughter and catch up on the last few years.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Winters!” says the housekeeper. “It was nice meeting you, Helen.”
I nod, following her footsteps with my eyes. I turn back to my father. “So, where’s Carmen?”
My father laughs, a deep-throated rumble. “I don’t know what’s going on with that girl. She’s probably just hung over from drinking too much last night at her bachelorette party. I guess it’s just you and me, kiddo.”
I frown at this news. When Carmen called at 5 AM, she did not sound drunk or hung over to me. But it would explain her crying
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