What They Never Expected

The saying goes, ‘expect the unexpected.’ But when it really happens, no one knows what to do or say when the unexpected shows up. They just stare, mouths agape with not a thought to their shocked minds.

It was Thanksgiving Dinner, and my mother had invited both sides of the family to join us. Aunt’s Uncles, Cousins, Sister, Brothers, and the like. My mother was bringing out dishes and dishes with food; turkey, ham, stuffing, gravy, potatoes etc. The chatter of people quickly filled the whole house; laughter, and excitement. A true family gathering.

But before we began to dig in, my Christian grandmother insisted we pray before eating. And of course, we all obliged out of respect for the woman who always brings us together.

God, I pray that the food before us will be blessed by you. And bless the people who are here, who took the time out of their busy schedules to make this family dinner. I also ask that you bless the people who aren’t here …

The room became tense as those words left her mouth. We all know who she was talking about. No one in the family talks about him though; my father. The only memory that I hold of him was when I was five: It was a warmer afternoon in the middle of the winter season. My dad took me to the nearby park. We sat down on benches under a shelter and we watched the snow fall all around us. To this day, I can still vaguely remember what he looked like. He was short wavy brown hair and blue eyes that matched mine. My dad sat me down on the bench with him beside me, he clasped his hands together, twirled the wedding ring on his finger.

He finally looked up at me and said, “Your dad is going to go away for a while, but I’ll come back for you.”

I cried that day, begging for my dad to stay and I gave him a big hug. He returned it, set me down and kneel to my level. He took off his ring and put it in my small gloved hand; a promise. We walked back home in the cold but I no longer felt the warmth of my dad by my side. And when we got home, he merely led me to the door and walked away. And I never saw him again.

My family grew to resent him, leaving my mother alone with her five-year-old son and my two-year-old sister. At the time, I obviously didn’t understand but as I grew older, I learned to resent him as well. But I’ve always wondered what his reason was. For the longest time, I wanted to believe that he would return, and he would apologize and tell me why he left and what he’s been up to all these years. And now at the age of 19, I’d given up on that hope. Well, I did. Until Thanksgiving of this year.

The doorbell rang from the other side of the house. My aunt, my mom’s sister, got up and answer the door, followed by a shriek. And then came the yelling and the string of curses flying out of my aunt’s mouth.

“What the HELL are you doing here!?” She screamed.

The person never responded but my mother and grandmother ran to the door. My mother dropped the spoon that was in her hand. I hurried to her side and ended up looking directly at the person in the doorway. He didn’t change from then, his hair was still a short and wavy but with added grey, he had also had a budding grey beard to match. But there wasn’t mistaking the blue eyes that matched mine. The ones that bore straight into my own.

“Dad- Stephen.” I breathed.

I could see the hurt that crossed over his face as his first name left my lips.

“Can I come in?” He asked, his voice deeper, raspy.

“Absolutely not! You’ve broken my daughters’ heart and left your children! You are not welcome here.” My Grandmother raised her voice.

“Let him in.” My mom’s voice said softly from beside me. I looked up at her, her eyes were lit with the fire of determination. She looked neither shocked nor hurt but almost welcoming; as though she suspected this all along. My Grandma gave her a sharp stare, emotions crossing her face before she sighed, stepping aside and letting him in. My aunt had fled the scene already.

“Thank you.” He said as he stared at my mother.

“Don’t thank me yet, Stephen.” She said sharply

As Stephen crossed the threshold and entered the dining room with our small group. The men in the house had already stood up, facing him with hated stares, hands in fists.

“Don’t think about it.” Sighed my mother.

“But Angela-“

“I think we all deserve an explanation, but no one more than me and Zane. Lily will hear about this when she comes back from her sleepover tomorrow.” My mother interjected. My mother, even more than my grandmother, was respected highly by everyone. No one crossed her, she had an air about her that you had to listen to.

“You changed his name?” Stephen breathed.

Zane is my middle name and what my mother started calling me after he left. My first name is Alexandre. My father is of French origins, and he wanted a more French name for me per request of my other grandma who died a few years after dad left. Maybe it was cause of the shock.

“I only obliged with you and your mother because she was on her deathbed. My son is called Zane. His middle name is now Alexandre.” Mom explained.

When dad left, for two days straight, all she did was stay in her room. She never came out to eat or do anything. I’m not even sure if she showered. For the most part, she would sleep and only get up for water and the bathroom. But after two days, she came out like nothing had happened. She started taking care of Lily and I as if he never left. She quickly got over everything and started acting like my mom again. She never once showed her hurt and although a part of me hated my dad for putting her through this, I always thought she was so strong for getting through it.

My dad looked at me for a moment before nodding, “Zane, then. May I explain everything?”

“Be my guest, but just because it’s Thanksgiving doesn’t mean you’ll be forgiven.” My mother shot at him. My mother is notorious for having a sharp gaze and an even sharper tongue

“A week before I took Alexand- I mean Zane, to the park. I got an anonymous call; the woman on the other line told me that I had another child. I had… have another son. I didn’t want to leave my family but I thought if I had another child out there, I wanted to meet them. I knew how you’d see this, Angela but I didn’t want to hurt anyone. So I left.”

The room spun. I saw red. That wasn’t an excuse to leave your family. It wasn’t an excuse to leave anyone. If only he told us, this could’ve been discussed and done together as a family.

“That’s no excuse.” I said.

“Zane. He’s not worth it.” My grandmother said softly.

“No, he should say something.” My mother interjected

In that moment, I knew whatever I said to him; whatever anger or hatred I let out. My family, the one that were there for mom, Lily and I all these years, would always be there. I took a deep shaky breath.

“Stephen… Dad. I’ve always wondered why you left and if you’re reason was ever good enough. What was so bad that it would make you leave your wife and your children. But now I realize that no matter what you say, it’s not good enough. I cannot forgive you.”

I didn’t let him say a word, I grabbed the chain hidden under my shirt; along the chain was my dad’s wedding ring. A part of me couldn’t let go of this because I always wanted him to return. But now I just wanted him to leave. He watched as I pulled the chain over my head and held out my hand. He slowly raised his hand, opening his palm and I placed the ring in his hand.

“I don’t need this anymore. This family doesn’t need you anymore.” I said.

“I understand… Zane. Thank you for listening.” He said with tears in his eyes before turning around and walking straight out the door.

My mother pulled me in a tight embrace. For the first time, I could feel her small body shake with sobs, “You did so good Zane. I’m so proud of you. I will never abandon you, not like he did.”

“I know, Mom. I know.”

Despite that hiccup, our Thanksgiving went off without another hitch. We had good food, we laughed, we talked. Our Thanksgiving never changed, our family has never changed.