Watch your language! He is your father! Like it or not, that is the truth!”
“No! That is not the truth!” I slammed my fists on the table as I stood up. The anger was rising within me. I could barely control my voice. Just thinking about it made my palms sweaty, my insides jittery. This always happened, and she just could not let it go. Today I had to let my thoughts out. I could not continue with the stress of burying my true feelings. If she insisted on bringing up this subject, then today I was going to give her what she wanted. “The truth, Mother, is something that you know very well, and that I had to find out by sheer coincidence. Apparently, you didn’t find it necessary to fill me in on Daddy’s little secret.”
“Watch what you say!”
“Why? Huh? Why, Mom? What difference does it make? The truth is still what it is. My father still has another family!” I spat the words out. It was revolting to think about, let alone to say it out loud. “So really, it doesn’t matter what I say or how I say it. In fact, let’s just put it out there today. He has us here, while he keeps a wife and son in India! And what drives me insane is that you don’t object to it. Why is that? Why are you quiet about his indecency? I don’t understand why Indian women lack all self-respect!”
Ouch. There it was. Clearly, I had finally managed to hurt my mother’s feelings with my last remarks. Her eyes watered, and she turned away from me. I regretted that remark the moment I let it escape my lips. As much as it pained me to think about what my father had done, a part of me still felt sorry for my mother.
“Esha, enough is enough.” She spoke ever so softly now. “If you knew the whole truth, you would not feel this way. He . . .” She quickly cut herself off, as if she had said something she did not intend.
“What are you talking about? What do you mean by ‘if you knew the whole truth’?” Suddenly my mom’s gaze was concentrated on her hands, and I could see that she was struggling with her thoughts. Yet I still could not calm my own anger. Discussing my father was an explosive issue for me. “I don’t know if I can hear any more. Just leave it alone.”
“This you must, Esha. This you must.” Her voice was almost as low as a whisper now, but she continued. “I have been bound by a promise I made to your father before you were even born. I cannot bear to see your relationship with him deteriorate any further. I cannot bear to hear you say such horrible things about him, treat him with the neglect that you show him every single day then watch him weep at night, unable to correct the image that you have of him. I think that it is time I told you the whole truth.”
I sat back down in my chair and braced myself. My mother’s truth, however, went no further that day, as we were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.
TWO
I never really knew what the nurse said to my mother over the phone, or what she heard as she desperately clutched the receiver. All I heard were two words that kept replaying over and over again in my head as we burst through the doors of the hospital emergency room: “. . . terrible . . . accident . . .”
We later found out there had been a collapse at the mill. As his colleagues tried to explain the scenario, I sat quietly overwhelmed with disbelief and with fearful thoughts rushing through my mind. I only managed to pick up a few words that were being said. Something about a stack of logs, “Hit his head . . . trying to save our lives . . . very brave . . .”
These words became jumbled in my head, and I became even more confused. I was lost. I had no clue what I was to do, what to expect, or how I was to behave. All I knew was that the man I called “Daddy” was lying in a room, not knowing if he was going to live or die. Doctors were claiming that they could do no more.
The man that I had barely said two words to in months was now disappearing rapidly before my eyes, and I could only sit there, trembling with fear and plagued by memories of our past. I could feel the fear slowly taking control of me. The terrifying sensation made its way up from the tip of my toes, flowing up through my legs, then it was in my arms, my stomach and my chest. Soon I couldn’t breathe. I was silently drowning in fear.
I didn’t notice when my mother came out of the room and sat down beside me. Nor did I notice when my sister and her husband came running down the corridor. I only snapped out of my shocked state when my mother covered my hands with hers and said, “Esha, it’s time you spoke to him.” Her voice was soft, yet it carried a firm and urgent undertone.
I didn’t have the courage to look at her, but I nodded and patted her hands. I got up and slowly forced one foot in front of the other, making it through the doorway and finding my way to his bedside.
His hands were bandaged, and his face was badly swollen. It was an incredibly scary sight at first. He was marked by nasty cuts and bruises, and his body looked broken. As I studied his face closely, I could barely find traces of the man I knew to be my father.
“Daddy?” It was hardly a sound. Less than a whisper, but it was all I could manage at first. I held his hand and said it once more, trying hard to find my strength. “Daddy, it’s me, Esha. It’s your Esha, Daddy . . . Aren’t you going to open your eyes for me?”
I felt his hand twitch. He slowly moved his eyelids until he finally managed to open them. For a moment, I almost thought I saw him attempt a weak smile. Perhaps it was just a wince from the pain he must have been feeling.
“Daddy, do you hear me?” He nodded and tried to speak, but at that point the pain was clearly visible on his face. I hushed him softly and told him not to push himself. “You have to rest. Don’t try to speak.”
Seeing him in this state made our problems seem almost trivial, but I still could not forgive him. He very well could be on his deathbed, and the horrible truth of his past had kept us apart for months. So much time had been wasted between us.
“Daddy, there’s so much to say, yet I’m finding it difficult to find the right words.” He gently squeezed my hand, giving me courage to continue. “No matter the reason, I am sad that we have lost out on so many months together. Seeing you here like this, Dad . . . makes me realize how much . . . how much . . .” My words lost their strength, and I sobbed quietly. I now felt the enormity of the situation. He squeezed my hand tighter this time, but instead of just being an encouraging gesture, it felt rushed, as if he was trying to tell me to hurry. So I obliged. “Daddy, I realize how much . . . I love you and need you. I’m sorry, so sorry that I’ve shut you out of my life this past year. Please forgive me.” There, I’d finally said it. Moments earlier, I had been questioning whether or not I could forgive him for his secrets, and now I had just asked him to forgive me.
He opened his mouth to speak, and his pain was terribly evident. Despite my attempts to persuade him to stay quiet, he eventually found his own words through his pain. “Forgiveness . . . is what I must . . . ask for from you, my child. I have not been honest with you.” He squeezed my hand again. “Esha, there is much that I must say to you, and so little time. So I’m going to just get this out as quick as I can.
“The choices that you make when faced with a crisis determine just how good of a human being you really are. Remember that, child. I have made some choices that have affected my loved ones, my family. Were they the right choices? I don’t know. I suppose God will have to decide now, as I sense we shall be meeting very soon.”
“Daddy, don’t say that, please!” I cried.
“I never ever wanted to hurt you. You are my little princess. Always have been
