The Outcast

I look at my dad unbelievingly as he crosses the road to come by my side. 

“Dad?” 

He smiles back, the same smile of his that tilts more to his left cheek.

“But?...”

“I know!”

“But?” I just have no words to say. 

“They didn’t allow me to attend your funeral,” I speak a full sentence finally.

“Because there was no need,” he answers coolly.

“Yeah, I can tell that now!” I reply.

Why would my siblings and even my mother play such a cruel joke on me, I wonder. First they announce the news of my dad's death to me yesterday over a text message and once I rush back to the city this morning, asking them to share his funeral details, they tell me that I should keep away as dad never wanted me to attend his funeral. Yes, I was perhaps the black sheep of the family. An outcast. But was I not always my daddy’s little girl? 

“I am so confused, dad,” I say to him as he stands next to me now. We do not hug each other. Something stops me.  

“You should really be wearing another warm layer, dad!” I tell him. I can tell his body is cold.

He returns the same side smile to me and says nothing. 

We begin to walk in the direction of the house. I am a little hesitant as it has been nearly five years since I last stepped out of my parents’ house. Choices that one makes in life. Did I ever regret it? No! But I missed spending time with my dad, mum was ok, I don’t think she was ever fond of me. And likewise, I wasn’t fond of her either. It was mutual. Or perhaps, reactionary in my case. My siblings, a set of twins older than me by good five years, treated me as an outsider from the start! 

“I am sorry, dad!” I say to him as we continue to walk. The house was 10 minutes away.

“You did nothing wrong.”

“I did, I should have talked to you. I broke your trust!”

“Like I said, you did nothing wrong! It was a decision that you had made and look at you, you are doing so well,” he says, looking at me and beaming with pride.

“I know you visited the gallery, ” I tell him sheepishly. 

He doesn’t look surprised. “Yes, I know. You were not around. I knew your husband was looking at me, pity he could not make up his mind to come up to me or not and I had left by then,” dad says with a laugh.

I laugh too. “He told me he wanted to go up to you but wasn’t sure!”

I can see dad shivering more.

“Should we take a cab, dad?” I ask him. 

“No, we are just a few minutes away now, have you forgotten the house already?”

“No way! Are you sure you want me to come home?” I ask him hesitatingly.

“Yes, I want you to!” he says firmly.

We walk in silence. 

Just then a lady passes by me, looking at me strangely.  She suddenly stops.

“You are Sheila from 10, Oak House, right?” she enquires.

“Yes” I answer. Dad does not stop, he continues to walk.

“You don’t remember me? Your neighbour from 23, Oak House?” she asks.

I keep quiet and look at my dad’s back. 

“I am sorry I don’t but I really have to go!” I say and start walking behind my dad.

“Oh I just wanted to say I am so sorry…” the lady says. 

We have already moved quite a distance. Dad has always been a fast walker. Catching up with him is never easy. With a frame of 6 feet 3 inches, his strides are extremely big.  

“Finally, we are home!” I say, looking at it with wonder. The same old red bricked house with a sprawling garden in the front. The little pond has no water in it now though. It is empty. 

As we step into the house, my family stares at me. 

“How dare you walk in like this?” my older sister says.

“Well, it is my house too!” I tell her. I have grown bold than I was five years ago and now with dad by my side, I feel even bolder. 

I look at all of them seated in the living room. Mum is all teary. My brother looks vague. My sister looks upset seeing me. And also present is an uncle whom I have known since my childhood; he also happens to my dad’s lawyer.

“Hello Sheila,” he greets me.

“Hello, Mani uncle,” I say. 

“We are discussing your dad’s will that he has left behind,” he says, looking at the will. This was made at the same time you left the house five years ago! Maybe you want to hear it too!”

My dad laughs. Nobody reacts. 

I look at my dad. I laugh too.

“What is funny, Sheila? You will be happy to know that he has left you behind with nothing!” my brother says this time, reproachfully. 

I look at my dad, who then shakes his head and starts walking upstairs and says to me “follow me.”

“Where are you going?” My brother asks with a dare in his voice.

“To dad’s room! Is that a problem? Besides, he wants me to!”

“What do you mean? He wants you to?”

“He has asked me to visit his room!” I say with defiance. I look at dad, who has already started walking up the stairs.

My mother then finally speaks up. I can not see a glitter of happiness in her eyes or voice upon seeing me after so many years.

“Let her go!” she says.

Nobody wants a scene created, especially with uncle Mani around at home, who seems embarrassed now. 

Dad has already entered the room. I quickly walk up the stairs and enter the room. I see him standing by his closet on the other side of the bed.

“Why would they be discussing the will?” I ask him, looking puzzled. He again gives me that signature smile of his. He has not stopped shivering. 

“Ok, how about you wearing a sweater first and letting me make you some tea,” I say. I also plug in the room heater.

“No, just sit down,” he says, pointing at the chair by his bedside. 

“Do you want to tell me something, dad?” I ask him.

“In fact I do!”

I smile.

“I love you!” I say to him.

“I know you do!”

We both laugh.

“And I know you love me too,” I say.

I feel like a little girl again.

“Ok, now listen to me,” he says.

He opens his closet, and after a minute of shuffling about, he takes out a file.

“What is this?” I ask him.

“Never mind what this is. Go and give it to your uncle downstairs now.”

“Hmm, ok! Not that I want to face mum and my lovely siblings again!" I say, rolling my eyes.

He laughs. “Just go now!”

“Ok, I will be back and make you a nice cup of tea. Till then please wear a sweater,” I say, pleadingly.

He nods at me.

I smile and go down with the file.

“What is this?” My sister asks.

“Well, dad has asked me to give this to Mani uncle, so he can perhaps look at it and tell!” I answer her back in the same tone as hers.

“Hmm this looks familiar,” my uncle says as he takes the file from me. He opens it and then smiles. 

“Ok, I am going back to dad’s room!” I say as I turn back, remembering to make tea for dad.

“Wait!” Mani uncle says.

“What is it?” my mum asks him.

“It is your late husband’s revised will. I do remember helping him out with this! Sorry, dear all, we will have to consider this will as his final will now, which he made only a year ago.”

“Sheila, where did you get this from?” he asks surprisingly.

“Well, dad handed it to me now,” I say.

“Now? What a lunatic you are!” My sister questions me, laughingly looking at my brother who also smirks.

“Sheila, your dad died yesterday. We came back from his funeral only an hour ago!” Mani uncle says, trying to stop others from jeering at me. 

“Well, he is... upstairs!” I tell all of them.

I can see everyone looking at me. I then scan the room and see a jar of ashes placed next to dad's framed picture on the side-table by the window.

I rush upstairs.

“Dad?” I shout as I open his bedroom door. The room is all warm. The heater is still on. The closet is partly closed.

He is not there. I just sense a warm hug.