"SO CLOSE" A SHORT STORY

"SO CLOSE"

I stood outside the church with my mother, stepfather, and tiny son. We were visiting Illinois to attend the high school graduation of my younger brother. I knew my dad would be there and after years of estrangement didn't have any idea how I would react.

I turned and spied him coming in my direction. My heart was pounding within my chest. For a split second he glanced at me, then immediately redirected his gaze elsewhere.

"There's your grandpa." I choked on the words I was whispering to my two-year-old son. The child in my arms showed no interest in what I was saying to him. My father walked past us, feigning oblivion to his first-born grandson and only daughter.

My mother started to go after her ex-husband. She was infuriated. He had slighted Steven and me. I stopped her immediately in her tracks. "Don't Momma. If he doesn't want to have anything to do with us, you can't make him." She began to argue, but by the look on my face dropped the matter.

We went inside the church and to our designated places. In an effort to distract myself from the pain I was experiencing, I looked over the program. People were noisily filing in. Above their footsteps and whispers, I thought I heard a familiar voice hiss in aggravation. I glanced up to see my father and his mother settling into the pew in front of where I sat. He, obviously, was perturbed with the seating arrangement. I thought the lump in my throat would cut off all breath.

It was a catholic school and so, before the actual commencement started, the priest officiating asked all in attendance to kneel and pray.

I made the sign of the cross and called on God to help me. I begged the Heavens to please let my daddy realize how much I was hurting. I pleaded with the Almighty to let me be forgiven.

My father sat back down, but I remained on my knees. He was inches away from me. I could smell the Old Spice. It was a scent I knew so well since childhood. I inhaled deeply and for a second, memories flooded my mind. Years fades away to times when we were happy. I was his little girl again and we were truly happy. How I adored him. And how he adored his "pretty eyes".

I caught my grandmother trying to sneak a peek at the baby and me. My dad abruptly pulled her close, gave her a scathing look, and angrily cursed under his breath. Immediately, she transfixed her gaze forward. I guess, like her son, she too was lost to me.

The organ played softly and words were spoken from the altar's pulpit. But, I was unable to listen to anything above the white-hot din pulsating within my skull.

He was so near. He was so close. I reached out and lightly touched his coat.

"Turn around Daddy. Please turn around," I whispered. He stiffened. "Please, Daddy turn around and look at me," I begged. I felt him become all the more rigid. Over and over, I beseeched him to acknowledge me, but it fell on deaf ears.

My sobs were uncontrollable. With each passing moment, they grew louder and regressed to childlike affectation. I was hysterical, at this point, and pleaded with my father to look my way, to see me. I cried and repeatedly asked him to forgive me, to love me again. I frantically clutched at his coat. He continued to remain steadfastly cold and totally unresponsive.

My mother attempted to comfort me, but I could not be solaced. Others tried to quiet me, but I would not listen. I may never have another chance to make contact and I had to do whatever I possibly could to try and reach him. He just had to care for me again.

The incoherent blubbering of my anguish and despair disrupted the graduation exercises. I felt myself being led from the church. Once outside, the bright rays of the sun stung my red and swollen eyes. The darkness of my heart was mocked by the beautiful glow of the cloudless morning.

I was despondent. I was alone. The void consuming every fiber of my being was palpable. I knew nothing would ever fill this emptiness.

He never turned around. He never looked my way or heard my heartache. He never forgave me. He was gone, never to return.

Many years later, I happened to see my daddy walking down the street. Our eyes met for a fraction of a second. Then, just as quickly, he crossed to the other side of the block, turned, and hurried away. I'd like to think he remembered something and had to retrace his steps. But, in the three decades that have passed, since that chance occasion, I know he's long since forgotten this little girl and there is no going back. And yet, I will forever cherish when we were so close.

Miracle of miracles, my beloved father and I were finally reunited after a thirty-three year separation. I only had his company for a couple years before he passed away in July of 2001, but in that brief, wondrous time we were as we once had been doting father and devoted daughter and the closeness we shared was not even severed in his earthly departure. His spirit envelopes me in a paternal embrace, he hears my most minute whisper and every so often he tugs at my heart and never lets me forget I am forgiven and eternally remain his treasured little "pretty eyes".