Mea Culpa

June 21, 1979;  An elderly farmer had been plowing his field when he heard the faint screams of a desperate man. He had stopped to look around for the source of the noise. All he could see was the heavily wooded area past his fence line. Not much further there happened to be a creek, and beyond that was vast amounts of empty fields. Nestled in the far back right corner was an old farmhouse. It was occupied by a middle aged couple and their teenage son. Sensing that something had gone awry the man turned the key to the off position and proceeded to exit the combine. He made a quick haste to his backdoor shouting for his wife. She was found mouth agape as she held tightly to the telephone. She whirled around and got tangled in the phone cord. In quivering voice the elderly woman begged her husband to go help their neighbor. All she said was, "It's bad, John. It's really bad." So, he hopped into his pickup truck and sped down the dirt road that stretched alongside both properties. As soon as he made his way to the neighboring farmhouse a man could be seen running out the door. He was soaked in blood, and was carrying the lifeless body of his teenage son. John reached over and opened the passenger side door. The guy reeked of alcohol. His speech was slurred, and he was quite disheveled. They made the hour long drive to the hospital, but by then it was too late. The man was subsequently sent to prison for negligent homicide charges as well as DUI. He was sentenced to fifteen years in the state penitentiary, but let out for good behavior just a little over 10 years.

Current day: June 18, 1999; The sounds of yelling and things shattering echoed throughout the house. She was then sent toppling to the floor. Holding her stomach as a means of protection as she began to scoot across the dining room floor. He began to charge at her with his fist raised. She scurried to the gun that previously had been dropped earlier in the argument. There was a brief moment of hesitation followed by two loud bangs. The man crumpled to his knees before falling into her lap. You could hear the tremble in her voice as she quietly whispered, "I'm sorry." She began to push and shove the heavy weight of his lifeless body. Noticing she was drenched in blood she headed up the stairs to change. Without a second thought she snatched up her half packed suitcase and began to shove in more of her belongings. She tossed the bloodied gown in there as well. She ran back down stairs to retrieve the gun, some money, and the truck keys. Slamming the door behind her she made her way down the steps to the vehicle...and just like that, she was gone. She began to drive back towards her hometown. Though it was only a couple hours drive it seemed to take forever. Still sobbing she fumbled through the radio stations to distract herself. She opened the console then began rummaging through it. There was a half empty pack of cigarettes that she put in her lap as she searched for a lighter. She took one out of the pack, lit it, and began to inhale the toxic chemicals. There was a sense of some relief, but she was still plagued about what she should do now. A small, quaint gas station with dimly lit lights appeared in the distance. She took a sharp turn left, and parked in the furthest corner of the lot. Finishing her cigarette she proceeded to roll down her windows before turning the truck off. She flicked the cigarette butt out the window then dropped her forehead onto the steering wheel. The young expectant mother sat there for thirty minutes apologizing to her unborn baby. "Are you okay, miss?," a gruff voice mumbled from the passenger side window. Startled the woman looked up only to see a disheveled elderly man. She nodded her head slowly. The man nodded motioning an 'okay' response. He went and sat back down by his cart then began opening a ziplock baggy that contained half a sandwich. This elderly man was homeless. He had nothing that wasn't of any value except personal. His clothes were dirty and tattered. She sat there watching him thinking out loud," He has nothing. He could of asked for anything, but instead he was worried about me." She looked at the half pack of cigarettes disgustingly. She snatched the lighter up and began to open her door. With a gentle thud she shut the truck door behind and made her way to the man. "You might need these more than me," she prompted. "I know it's not much, and is kind of an insignificant gesture but it is all I have on me." The man reached acceptingly, smiled politely, and lit himself a cigarette. "Are you going anywhere special?," the homeless man asked hesitantly to which the young woman shook her head no. She sat down on the curb adjacent to the kindly old man. "I don't know what I'm going to do," she began to whimper softly. He offered her a tissue and started asking her questions. "Not trying to pry, but what kind of predicament have you gotten yourself into young lady? Asides from that there baby. I can spot the look of guilt, shame, and remorse from miles away. I've had that there same look more than a time or two," he gruffly spoke between many dry coughs. She sat there quietly for a moment before replying, " I think I did something real bad, but for a real good reason." The man nodded. "At least you had a good a reason. I lost my son and my wife, because I was an alcoholic. Apparently, I had a daughter too whilst I was in prison," he quipped. He reached in the pack of cigarettes to light him up another one. "He was a mean one wasn't he? That how you get them there bruises?," he asked. She nodded in agreement. "Serves him right. Look here. I have a favor to ask of you. If I was to help you out would you do me a favor?," the man gruffly sputtered. The young woman looked at him with a confused expression on her face. "If we go back and I confess...could you find my daughter for me? I've held onto this letter for years hoping that I could find her. My time on Earth is coming up short sooner rather than later, and I'd just like to die peacefully knowing I'd at least try to explain." This had shocked the expectant mother greatly. "You'd do all that just for me to get a letter to your daughter?," she questioned. "My daughter would be about your age. Probably have grandkids somewhere, I reckon. Nothing I wouldn't do for them. Can't really make up for that now. I messed up my life, but you ain't got to mess up yours. At least in prison I'll have food and a warm bed." the homeless man grumbled. Her eyes whelped up and began to fill with tears. The man stood up and started rummaging through his cart before eventually pulling out an envelope. He handed the envelope to her, "Now lets go straighten things out for you and the little one." They got into the pickup truck and proceeded to drive the two hours back into the city. Once they reached her house he turned to her and said, "Now, give me the gun." She handed the small handgun to the kind man. He went up the steps and opened the front door. "Help yourself to anything in the fridge," She yelled from outside. The man man did just that. Opened the fridge took out a beer and said, "Cheers to you ol' chap!" He then started pushing the couch over in front of the door as a barricade. Then he went over to pick up the cordless phone on the counter and dialed 911. The operator answered to which he just replied, "I shot him twice for what he did to my friend. Hims deserved it." The man began coughing uncontrollably before hanging up. When the police arrived on scene they questioned her continuously. She just shook her head screaming and running, "I don't know what's going on!" They called for a negotiator, motioning her to stay on the property. The officer noticed the bulge in her pocket. "What do you have in your pocket?," he asked repeatedly. She slowly took out the envelope and unfolded it. Her face turned white as a sheet. She couldn't believe what she was seeing, Marrisa Anne Dale, was written in bright red ink. "It's just a letter. A letter from... my father," She whimpered. The man nodded and handed it back. She retreated to an area that was less occupied so she could read what he had written.

 " My dearest Marrisa, I was a pathetic excuse of a husband to your mother, and a piss poor dad to your brother Mark, and for that I payed dearly. I was an alcoholic for many years. Never thought nothing of it. Until that one day. I thought your brother was inside helping your mother. I was on the tractor. I didn't see him until it was too late. I really do wish it was me. He had his whole life ahead of him. I loved...love him and your mother with every fiber of my being. I wasn't aware of your existence until my brother informed me when I got out of prison. Surely I'd have been there for you if only your mother hadn't sheltered you from me. I can't blame her for not wanting me to ruin your life, as well. Just know that you are my daughter, and you are loved dearly. None of this is on you. I take full and complete responsibility. As your mother would say, "Mea Culpa! Read your book Michael! Do the right thing for once." I took those words to heart. I've read that there book many times. It's what has kept me going. It's due time that I 'do the right thing.' Or at least something. I have cancer. Lung cancer. All I ever ask before I leave this life...before I leave this world...is that you and your mother can somewhat forgive me. Love, Dad." 

You could here through the loud echo of the bullhorn as they urged him to exit the residence. Marrisa pleaded for them to let her use the bullhorn. They finally yielded to her commands. She took control over the bullhorn taking a moment to figure out it's mechanics. 

" Dad? It's me. It's Marrisa. I just wanted to tell you that...I forgive you. Mom forgives you too. Mom passed away two years ago, but she insisted that I found you for her. But instead you found me. I love you dad. You don't have to do this. This one is on me. I take..." 

A loud cracking sound could be heard piercing the temid atmosphere. Michael had kicked down the door. Everyone had their guns raised, and where yelling for him to stand down. He put his hands up in submission. "I killed him. I was protecting my daughter and my grandchild. I even got his blood on me," he blurted out. The elderly father then succumbed to his knees. "Mea Culpa, Marrisa. Mea Culpa. I love you," the father gruffly sputtered as they were putting cuffs on him. He started resisting and in quick haste tried to get away. There were a series of loud bangs. Followed by Marrisa screaming, "Dad! Please, no! No. No. No." Michael walked out into the sunshine that glistened from the brightly lit sunrise. He looked up to the sun as it beamed on his face. It was then that he finally felt a sense of peace. With a smile on his face he mouthed, "I will always be with you." The redemption he felt left the biggest smile upon his face as his restless soul finally found solace as it exited his body.