Fear

Fear.

Fear has had a hold on me, like how somebody holds their most prized possession from falling into a cascading river, since my birth.

I didn’t want to fall into the river. 

And no one wants their prized possession soaking up water.

“Excuse me.”

The voice of the guy interviewing me jarred me back to reality.

My mind swirled through my own cascading river. This time, a river of lies. “Yes. Um, my greatest weakness, is being a perfectionist, to say the least.” I finally concluded.

The interviewer’s facial expression didn’t change. “Go on.” His slightly pursed lower lip quivered like he knew I was on the verge of breaking.

I hadn’t expected this. Over the past year of failed interviews, most just took the 1 sentence answer I yielded to them. Of course, I should’ve expected more elaborate questions, as I was in one of the most prestigious law firms in Chicago.

“‘Oh, um.” I stuttered, my mind plunging into the cascading river, desperate for at least something to say in return.

The interviewer’s black glasses along with his pristine, speck free, black suit shifted positions in his chair.

I followed his movements, desperate for time along with lies.

Finally, he threw my resume on the table in front of us, a sound all too familiar to me over the past year.

“Get out.”

I hoisted my feet up against the car dashboard, knocking my toothbrush out of the way. I dived for it in a frivolous manner, failing to get it. I sighed and tilted my seat back until I was parallel to the roof of the car. 

I wasn’t getting any younger. 35. An age where I dreamed that I would be living in luxury. But, now, it was anything but. I needed to settle down soon. Or I wasn’t going to survive.

I groaned as I sifted one hand through the never-endless pile of trash in the back seat. I grasped the computer and I gently brought it up to my lap. 

Besides the car, it was one of my prized possessions. Even the suit I was wearing worn out years ago. 

I opened it and started frantically clicking the power button. Finally, after 10 minutes (A record time), the computer flashed to life.

I moved my cursor to google. It took 5 seconds, but it came up. I clicked on the mail tab, and waited for it to be brought up.

As I did, I pondered what it was going to be. A message from the bank? I hoped against that possibility. I couldn’t.

I just couldn’t.

When it eventually came up, I saw that there was one solitary email that was listed in the unread section. The bump on the log.

I looked at who sent it to me, and . . .

I cursed. My cousin.

I didn’t have a single bad memory of him. It was just that, it was like a curse. Every time we talked, something bad happened.

I clicked the email, and 3 sentences popped out to me.

“Come. He wants to talk to you. He has 3 days left.”

I knew who my cousin was talking about.

My dad.

I silently realized what the email was telling me to do. I was gonna have to face my father. My kind, benevolent father, who I had taken advantage of. And who’s life I wrecked.

My 2006 Chevy Silverado picked up dust as I left the parking lot of the Walmart. For the first time in a long time, I felt that my head was clear of the plague, that I knew intimately as Fear.

I knew that driving from Chicago to Middleborough Texas was a feat in and of itself. But I had to try.

As I drove, my mind sank into the memories that defined my life.

My first one was when I was 12.

We were hiking in the woods along Tallahequa river. The trees were unnaturally thin, with dried leaves falling on the ground. Sometimes, at night, I could still hear my boots crunching on them, as some type of silent punishment for my past.  Dad carried a small trowel caked with a big mound of dust, that with every step, got looser.  My metal detector was out, scanning the ground for anything that could be of use to us.

“What do you see?” he asked me.

I turned to face him. I was able to see that he was aging at that time. Every time his face moved, wrinkles appeared and disappeared, like waves in the near never-ending expanse that’s sometimes known as the ocean.

Though I had never seen the ocean before.

“What else is there to see?” I inquired. “We’re in a forest, surrounded by a bunch of trees. And there’s a river nearby.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “That’s not what I asked.”

Before I could ask again, he put his left arm on my shoulder and used his other hand to gesture, well, everything.

“What do you see?” He emphasized.

I tried again, trying to imagine what he saw. 

I scrunch my face up in concentration. When I opened my eyes, I could see him nodding disapprovingly.

“It’s not that hard.” He said.

“It’s not that hard for YOU.” I explained.

He chuckled again, the simple gesture starting to get on my nerves.

“You know what I see?” He mused.

I shook my head.

“The tree bark, though slim, seems sturdy enough. Could be used for building houses.” He started. He put his hands up, and I followed them. “See those birds? Any local Ornithologist could use them for any type of study. And as for the land.” He let my shoulder go and used both arms to gesture the near untouched land we were trekking in. “The trees could be cut down, and once the ground gets leveled, could be a shopping mall. Though I can imagine that that would be horrendous for the environment.”

I nodded my head in realization. “You’re talking about potential.” He nodded back.

“Life is tough. And you’re gonna need any idea that comes to mind. Who knows? It could be your big break." He explained.

I chuckled. “Yeah, but the thing is, why in the world do you think that there’s just going to be some random Ornithologist. I mean, come on.”

Dad smiled at that. But his face changed to seriousness. He put a hand directly in front of me, and I halted.

He motioned for me to take a step back, and I did as such.

I looked at the metal detector. The spike was all over the place, like a fish out of water.

I couldn’t hear it, partly because I threw a baseball at it with enough force.

Dad got down on his knees and got out the trowel.

I followed suit, wiping away the leaves. 

With one big push, dad got a huge amount of dirt up. 

Pretty soon, I was able to see something. It was like a . . . box.

Curious, I picked it up, brushed off some dirt, and inspected it. It was sleek and smooth. I saw a tiny crack in the top half of the box. I fidgeted with it.

“Careful. You might break it.” Dad coached.

Suddenly, the crack I was fidgeting with opened. And inside was something encased in a sky blue cloth. As I touched it, I found that it was somehow smooth and rough at the same time. I took it off and what was left was . . .

“Is that a gold nugget?”

My second one was when I was 15, when my mom and dad got divorced. 

The last time I saw them together was one of the most defining moments of my life. 

I watched them talk through my bedroom door. Nobody knew I was watching, partly because I only opened it a crack.

I heard my father plead. “Please. We are family. And the little one’s growing up. We need to stick together.”

“Yeah.” Mom scoffed. “Says the guy who almost spent all our bonus money on your ridiculous plan.”

“I’m trying to help the family.” Dad explained.

“And I’m trying to keep it from breaking apart.” Mom retorted.

I was with mom. Dad over the past few years had been obsessed with his master plan, getting fired from his job on the way. And even though he kept reassuring me the luxuries that could come from it, I just couldn’t see it.

Nevertheless, dad kept fighting. “I’ll come up with another plan that’ll work.”

Mom scoffed. “Yeah. And if it does, call me.” 

I heard the slam of the door. For a few minutes, I couldn’t hear anything. Then I heard the chair dad was sitting on just a few minutes before hitting the wall.

I gasped partly from the noise. But also partly from the shock. Dad rarely ever showed his frustration. The only other time I’d seen him explode was when he got passed for a promotion by the guy he mentored.

Then I heard the ring of the phone.

“Hey. You got the estimation?” I heard my dad ask.

A pause. “500 grand? For a simple gold nugget?”

In shock, I walked away from the door and to my dresser, where the gold nugget lay. I always kept it in the box we found it in, protecting it from the heresy of my dust filled room.

“Yeah. We could use it.”

For the first time in a long time, I uncovered the cloth and picked up the nugget. In it’s gleam, I could see myself. I could see myself living in luxury.

That’s when I decided to steal the gold nugget.

Mom had won in court. She gained full custody of us. I didn’t mind at the time. At that point, my hatred for dad grew exponentially.

Before I left, I packed up all my stuff. Dad took me to the local carnival. A sort of pleasant goodbye, I guessed.

We had a mild bit of fun, especially on the Gravitron.

After, we came home exhausted. Dad went to lay down.

Before that however, I asked him the question. 

And that was the first time that Fear took hold of me.

“Hey dad. Can I take the nugget to show my friends?”

Dad nodded dreamily, and he went into his room.

Without making noise, I ran into my room and collected the gold nugget. I shoved it into my sweatshirt, and I called mom. The entire time, my heart was hammering my insides, yelling at me to put it back and that Dad was counting on it.

I paid no heed to it.

I called mom to pick me up. On the car ride to mom’s new apartment, I thought up ways to explain the gold nuggets disappearance.

After a few years, I found out that I didn’t need to. I stopped responding to pleas from dad, unable to face what I had done.

As I drove past the sign that said “Welcome to Middleborough Texas!

Enjoy your stay!” I wondered that if I couldn’t face him, then why did I bother driving over there?

I kept it a secret until after I had finished law school. I used the money to get a great house, a car, and a few good cases. But I burnt it up too early. I fell down the ever increasing spiral of final notices, debts, and loans.

That started 5 years ago.

I sped past a row of small businesses that looked like the set of Hill Valley from Back to the Future.

A shop sprung up in my mind. Instead of going straight, hitting my house in a few minutes, I took a right turn. 

My eyes were glued to the window, looking for the one place of solitude. The one place that single handedly got me through my childhood.

The shop bells rang as I opened the door. Boxes filled the counter that previously held cheesy plant puns. Inside were folders and binders filled with god knows what. 

I looked to the right and to the left. The tables that previously held rows of multicolored flowers were empty. The floor still was covered in a thin layer of dust, apart from the place where the welcome mat was. As the door closed behind me, I closed my eyes and took in the scents.

The smell of the petunias, the marigolds, and the smell of the freshly watered soil still remained. 

I heard a shuffling in one of the back rooms, which caused me to open my eyes. Out came an elderly old woman carrying another box, this time, entirely filled with papers. When she turned around and saw me, her first expression was not of joy, or anger. 

It was of shock.

“You came back.”

“Of course I did.” I said.

She dropped her box and rushed over to me, her face now showing joy.

I laughed - a real, genuine laugh - as she gave me a big hug.

We embraced for a minute. She took her arms away, and looked at me in amazement.

“Oh. Do you need anything?” She walked over to one of the boxes and started taking out some plants.

“No. No. Just checking in. It’s been a long time.” I told.

She stopped taking everything out. “Are you sure?”

I sighed. “I only need one.”

“Alright.” She said, picking out a flower that was orange, with a hue of yellow added into it.

I dug out my wallet and gave my last bit of money: a 5 dollar bill. She took it and stuffed it into a thick envelope.

I asked “You need anything else?”

I spent the rest of the evening helping her put all of the boxes in a small U-Haul box. 

We stood standing in the room reminiscing about our memories in this place.

“I almost forgot.” She exclaimed as she walked over to the counter and placed her key along with the thick envelope.

“What if somebody steals the money?” I said, gesturing towards the counter. 

“Well, I hope whoever does it puts it to good use. Besides, I don’t need it anymore.” She explained.

I nodded. The door closed with a ring behind her, and I was left just standing there. 

As I stared at the key and the envelope, an idea came to mind.

But Fear took hold of me. The pessimistic nature of the answers it gave me pushed the idea completely out of my mind.

The house still looked the same. The hardy planks were a blinding white, even though the paint had stripped away over the years. 

The gutter overflowed with leaves.

 I increased my pace as I walked inside, eager to get this over with.

The door creaked open. Inside were a guy and a girl in white coats. The guy was talking to the girl, who was busy writing on a clipboard.

They saw me and they relieved the room. And I saw him.

His skin was unnaturally white, his veins showing through. His gaunt condition caused tears to well up in my eyes.

I walked over, almost tripping over mounds of decayed flowers.

I swiped napkins off a chair and sat down beside him. His face moved ever so slightly towards me. I set the flowers beside him, and I began.

“Dad, um-” I started.

But then I noticed his hand making its way towards me. I looked at it and inside it was a piece of paper. I pried it out of his trembling hands, and I read it.

I know.

I ran to the car. I fumbled on the grip, initially, but I got inside. I slammed the door close, and I let out my tears.

My father had knowingly let me steal the nugget, in hopes that I should have a good future. And what did I have to show for it?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

But slowly, my breathing slowed, and so did the tears. My father sacrificed this much. So I had to succeed. Even if I didn’t become a millionaire, I should at least get a life that I’m proud of.

I started the car.

As I drove to the florist’s, I realized that Fear had lost its grip on me. I was floating away in the cascading river. And even though I didn’t know where I was heading, it was a start.

And a start was all I needed.