Shadows of a Father's Absence

Carla’s POV.  

As a child, I only knew my mother as my only family. It was not until I was 12 years of age, I got to know I had an aunt. My mother never spoke about my father and although she tried her best to never make me feel his absence, I still did whenever I saw my friends with their fathers.  

I tried several times to make her tell me about him, but she always waved off the topic, pretending as if I never mentioned it. But there came a day, the day I couldn’t take it anymore. The day I also made up my mind to never ask about him again.  

That day, I had gotten into a fight with a classmate of mine, who shamed me for not having a father and called me a bastard. I was so pained and hurt that as soon as I got home that day, I stormed into my mother’s room angrily.  

“Darling, you are back already.  How was school today?” she said as soon as she saw me, with a smile curled up on her lips. Normally, I would have rushed to her and squeezed my tiny self into her arms but that day, I stood still, with my arms folded and my face firm.  

It was evident that I was not in the mood for her warm gestures and when she finally realized that, she got up from where she was seated and walked up to me with a worried expression on her face.  

“My baby, what’s the problem? Did anything happen at school today?” she questioned, as she cupped my face in her palms, as if trying to read my mind, which I gently shoved off.  

“Yes, something did happen!! I got into a fight with Marie!!” I yelled, venting my anger, which I was unable to vent on Marie (the friend with whom I had gotten into a fight with) on her.  

“Why? You barely fight with anyone. What happened?” she questioned, looking confused and surprised.  

“Yes! I barely ever fight with anyone, but this—this wouldn’t have happened if I had a father!” I screamed, my voice cracking under the weight of my anger and pain. My fists trembled, clenched so tightly they ached, as my bloodshot eyes bore into hers. Tears streamed down my face, hot and unrelenting, betraying the fury that burned within me. 

“Baby,” she whispered softly, her voice breaking like glass, as she reached towards me with trembling hands but I hesitated. 

“If I had a father, Marie wouldn’t have referred to me as a bastard!!”  I yelled, as hot tears rolled down my cheeks, with the impact of Marie’s harsh words piercing my heart. 

“Calm down, baby” Mum had said, with compassion and empathy in her eyes, as she tried to hold my hands in hers. But I didn’t allow her to, as I stepped away from her. She was speechless and shocked as she had never seen me in such a state before.  

“What have I done to deserve not to have a father of my own? Why? Just tell me why!!!” I yelled, my voice echoing through the room, filled with anguish and desperation. My chest heaved as I struggled to breathe through the sobs that threatened to consume me. 

I felt a storm raging inside me—pain, anger, and an aching emptiness that no words could ever truly capture. My fists pounded against my thighs, frustration bubbling over as the tears blurred my vision. 

“Baby ....... I ...... I,” she stuttered, her voice tender and full of sorrow, stepping closer. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she reached out. “I don’t have all the answers, but I’m here, and I’ll never leave you. I promise. I am more than enough for you. You don’t need him in your life” she has reassured. 

But her words, no matter how gentle, couldn’t fill the void. They couldn’t silence the questions screaming inside me. Why me? Why my family? Why couldn’t I have what everyone else seemed to take for granted? 

“No!” I screamed, ripping my hand from her grasp. She flinched, her face a mix of shock and hurt, but I didn’t care. “You’ll never be enough for me. Don’t you get it?” My voice cracked, my desperation spilling out in a torrent of tears. “I need him. I need to know what it feels like to have a father’s love. Why can’t you understand that?” 

She didn’t utter a word, she just stood still as she locked her gaze with mine, as if trying to figure out the stranger before her.  

“You know what?” I said as I sniffed. “I want to meet my father today” I demanded, with a tone as cold as ice, which showed that I really meant business.  

“What?” Mum asked, surprised as her lips began to tremble, and she held onto the helm of her dress to steady her stand.  

“I want to meet my father” I reaffirmed.  

“No, you can’t. Just forget about him and let’s continue to live in harmony as we have always done. Please, baby” Mum pleaded, her voice, that of anxiousness and desperation. It was then I realized she wasn’t ready to give me what I wanted. I knew the only way to make her dance to my tune was to threaten her, and which I did.  

I looked around the room, looking for my perfect weapon and finally, I found one. I dashed towards the small table in my mum’s room, on which she had placed a plate of apples and a knife. I aimed for the knife, which I successfully got a hold of.  

“It’s either you let me know who my father is, or I kill myself” I said, with a determined look on my face, as I placed the knife close to my throat. I locked my gaze with hers, hoping my threat would work on her as I had planned but I was wrong.  

The words that came out of her mouth were those I least expected.  

“Then, go ahead. Kill yourself.” she said nonchalantly, which made me surprised.  

“Is she joking?” I had thought as I forced my saliva down my throat, trying to mask my astonishment at her words.

“Kill yourself and abandon me, like he abandoned us!!!!” she yelled, screaming on top of her voice.  

I froze, my tears forgotten for a moment as her words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. My breath hitched. 

"Mom...?" My voice was barely a whisper, the fight draining out of me. I felt like a child again, confused and scared, staring up at a parent I didn’t fully understand.

She turned away, pressing a trembling hand to her lips as if to keep more words from spilling out.