From time to time, Joan asks why I’m not angry with my father for just giving up. My response—you had to know the love they shared to understand that to him, he’d lost the air to breathe—he no longer saw a future. I know he has a daughter and that he should want to do more for me, but the depression is so severe that he just can’t find the will to continue.
I have only the best memories of my father. Eighteen years of the best memories, so I guess when it came down to it and my father fell apart, I looked at it like this. I was at least fortunate enough to have had the times I did when things were good, because there are so many that don’t even get that.
So, now today, I finally get to start my new journey. One I’d been longing to take for so long, but the funny thing is I don’t seem to be as excited as I thought I would. I wonder if it’s because before I would’ve had my mother waking me with one of her ear-to-ear grins, joined by my father behind her clapping and singing some off the wall jingle he made up? Or is it merely that I no longer have it in me to make this work? I have so many other things to deal with that maybe my dream of a university degree is something I should’ve just let go of.
Well, whatever it is, it’s too late now. I’ve committed, and I never back out on a commitment.
My alarm sounds again, yet another reminder of my hesitation. I amble toward the bathroom to get ready, then once finished, head into the living room. As per usual, my father’s taken up residence on the worn couch. I walk over, tapping him gently on the shoulder as not to startle him.
“Daddy, I’m leaving.”
Having hoped that he’d remember today’s the big day, I’m hit with a small tang of disappointment when he only offers a groaned, ‘have a good one.’ Taking in a deep breath, I quickly push it aside; I really shouldn’t have expected different.
Giving my father a light kiss on the temple, I whisper for him to have a good day as well, although even I know at this point, he drinks solely to mask any sort of feeling at all.
I decide to head to the diner before school to grab a coffee and one of Joan’s special cinnamon rolls. She uses a coveted family recipe that I’ve asked her many times for, but her reply is always the same—if I give it to you, then you would have no reason to come and visit me when you make it big.
As I enter the diner, Joan’s there with a grand welcome, “Ladies and gentlemen, a big round of applause for our very own university student and future big shot CEO, Velyn Adler.”
Now well flushed with embarrassment, I quickly look around thankful the only people here are Mr. and Mrs. Clark, an elderly couple that comes in every Monday after their seniors’ Aquafit class.
“Much appreciated, Joan,” I murmur in a mock tone.
She chuckles. “You had to know I wasn’t going to let you sneak in here without acknowledging your big day.”
“Oh, I knew. I was just hoping you were in the back. I could’ve slipped in behind the counter, helped myself then slipped right back out, and you would’ve been none the wiser,” I reply.
Laughing, Stu walks out of the kitchen. “Yeah, that was never going to happen. My Joanie’s had this day marked on the calendar since you told her you enrolled, that, and she hasn’t left the front counter since we arrived here this morning; she knew you’d try to pull a quick in and out on her.”
I laugh. “Very well, but now that you got what you wanted, would you be so kind as to whip me up a coffee and cinnamon roll to go? I wouldn’t want to be late on my first day.”
Joan smiles. “You got it! And for the new college girl, it’s on the house.”
“Thank you, Joan,” I say with a chuckle. I can’t recall one time in the year and a half that I’ve worked here that they’ve let me pay for anything.
Thanking Joan one last time as she hands me the order, I then remember. “Say, Joan, I only have one class today. If you could use the extra help, I’ll be free by eleven.”
“Velyn, you know I could always use the help, but don’t you want the day to get familiar with things and maybe interact with some of your new classmates—you know, make friends?” Joan asks.
I shake my head. “I need to pay bills more than I need friends, that, and I don’t need the distraction right now. It’s been two years since I’ve
been in school, so I have a feeling there’s going to be some much-needed adjustment time for me to get
