Running From Regret

[sensitive themes: illness, mentions of abuse, cheating].

“Your father doesn’t have much time left”, Beth’s mother, Vivian, said sombrely. Her face was shrouded in worry and stress lines creased her face, even over the less than perfect quality of the Zoom call. “When are you going to stop running away from your problems and come home? You need to see him, get closure”.

Beth scowled, unable to concede to her mother. She travelled a lot for her blog but was free to return home at any point. She had just conveniently chosen not to…because if she did…well then, she might just give into temptation and visit her father.

The two of them were close once. That was a long time ago. Her mother may have been able to forgive him, but Beth still couldn’t find it in her heart. Now she just avoided the whole subject entirely and stayed as far away as possible so that it couldn't reach her.

Yet her mother still somehow managed to catch her.

If only she was as willing to dodge her mother’s calls. “I don’t see why I need to see him. He’s dying, so what? It doesn’t change anything”.

Vivian gave her daughter a sorrowful look. “He keeps asking for you”.

Beth stubbornly refused to answer.

If he really cared about her that much, then why did he spend so much time telling her how worthless she was? What a burden she was.

Maybe if he had been a better father after he’d lost his job and not chosen to drown his sorrows in a bottle, perhaps things would have been different.

“I’m not coming home”, she insisted. “I have a lot of work to do here for the blog”.

“The blog can wait, and we both know it”, her mother chastised her.

“I don’t want you to have to live with the permanent regret of what if? You don’t have to forgive the man, I certainly haven’t entirely, truth be told, but this isn’t about making him feel better. It’s about closure and finding peace”.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later”, Beth sighed, ending the Zoom meeting. She knew her mother was right, deep down, but the small child inside of her that had felt the force of her father’s hand striking her cheek in anger, still resisted; she felt like leaping in the opposite direction.

She turned off her laptop and slipped into the plush bed of the hotel room she had been staying in for the past week. 

Beth tried to fall to sleep but rest eluded her. It seemed that thoughts of her father were robbing her of much needed shuteye that night.

Beth’s mind was stuck on her mother’s words.

Vivian Wilson was a smart woman with a heart of gold. If her mother was able to put aside her father’s abuse and even his cheating to be by his side during his time of need, why wasn’t she?

“You’re daft if you think you’re clever enough to be a writer” his mocking words echoed through her brain, like a ripple in a pond. 

“I told you to fucking sweep up in here”, a memory of her father’s furious face glaring down at her eight-year-old self in the kitchen flashed through her head.

“You’re fucking useless” and she could practically feel the memory of his hand striking her cheek, leaving a stinging red mark that would turn into a bruise the next day.

Her mother would let her stay off school for a day or so until the bruise faded. Then she would pack her bags and take them to stay with her grandparents.

At least until her father came begging for another chance. And the cycle would start again until she was an eighteen-year-old and was free to leave.

It wasn’t long after Beth left home that her mother divorced her father after discovering his affair with the neighbour. That had been the straw that had broke the camel’s back after years of his verbal and physical abuse to his wife and daughter.

Yet somehow, she had gone back to care for him when he’d discovered he was sick and wasn’t going to last the year. 

But Beth wasn’t Vivian Wilson. And a part of Beth resented her mother for exposing Beth to years of her father’s bad treatment because of her forgiving nature.

“You don’t have to forgive the man, I certainly haven’t entirely, truth be told”.

Her mind reminded her of her mum’s words. Her mum hadn’t fully forgiven him. She didn’t expect Beth to either. 

“It’s about closure and finding peace”.

If her father died and she never saw him, would Beth be haunted by the ghost of regrets? Did she want to forever be stuck with the thought that she should have seen him? What if he wanted to apologise? Didn’t Beth deserve to hear his remorse?

Beth knew that her mother was right, deep down. It was time that Beth stopped running. 

The next morning, Beth booked a flight back to the UK and packed her things. She didn’t stop to let her doubts set in otherwise she knew she would start running again and perhaps, this time, never stop.

Instead of sprinting away from her problems, Beth needed to face up to them if she didn’t want the monster of regret chasing after her for the rest of her life.

Hours later, Beth sat on the airplane wondering what she would say to the man that she hadn’t seen or spoken to in at least seven years. She wondered what he would think of her as a travel blogger, doing a job involving two of her greatest passions: writing and travel.

He’d never thought she’d be smart enough to be a writer. Or to be good enough to earn enough to travel around the world, see places he had never and would never see.

Then it occurred to her that if she hadn’t listened to her mother’s words, then she may have never found out.

She landed back in England before evening and the first thing she did, after ordering an uber to pick her up from the airport, was call her mother. 

“Beth, I didn’t think you’d be calling so soon after our Zoom”, she said, surprised. “Are you alright, darling?”

“Yes, mum. Just wanted to let you know that I’m back in England. I’m heading to the hospice now. Are you already there?” Beth asked, anxiously. She didn’t think she liked the idea of having to go in there by herself.

“I am. Visiting hours end in about an hour. I’m so glad you changed your mind”, Vivian answered, a voice full of relief.

“Well, it’s not for him, it’s for me, like you said”, Beth spotted her uber arrive and dragged her small suitcase over. The driver got out and helped her haul it into the boot. 

“I just want you to be able to live without his memory weighing you down later”, her mother told her softly.

“I know. I’ll see you soon, mum, just getting into the uber now”, Beth told her before hanging up and buckling herself into the back of the car.

The drive to the hospice from the airport went slowly but she eventually arrived with about half an hour to spare before visiting hours ended.

She walked past the blue NHS sign and through the glass doors to reception. 

“I’m here to see Lewis Wilson”, Beth told the grey-haired lady behind the desk.

The woman quickly typed in the name on the computer before telling her where his room was located. 

“Visiting hours end in twenty minutes, love”.

“That’s fine. I won’t be long”, she responded before heading to the second floor where her father resided.

When she made it to the room, she stared at the door for a moment, her heart heavy.

Could she do this? She had spent so long racing away from the man and avoiding having to see him, would she be able to go in there and talk to him?

The door opened, startling Beth. Her mother popped her head out. “I had a feeling you were out here. Why don’t you come inside? He’s awake right now”.

Beth forced her feet to unstick themselves from the floor and for her body to move. She would not allow herself to hightail it out of there, no matter how tempted. Not now.

She took a breath, then pushed her way forwards, leaving her running shoes behind.