I had to fight over the sound of my own heart pounding inside my chest to make my father’s words audible. When I concentrated really hard, there it was… his voice. The words were coming…

Source: Make You Feel My Love

I had to fight over the sound of my own heart pounding inside my chest to make my father’s words audible. When I concentrated really hard, there it was… his voice. The words were coming right off the page and his familiar husky voice was speaking them right to me.

Dana, 

I know by now you feel alone, more alone than one should ever feel, but you’re not. You will always be in my heart sweetheart. I must confess that I feel terrible about this whole affair. I failed you as a father so far in your life and have not been there for you many times I’m sure. Some part of me did that on purpose. I stayed on the sidelines of you life because I wasn’t sure how you wanted me. When you were born I made a promise that in times of grief and sorrow I would hold you and rock you, take your pain and make it my own. When you cried, I too would cry, and when you hurt I too would hurt. And together we would hold back the floods of tears and despair and make it through the potholed streets of life together. I still plan on keeping that promise Squirt. This has all been very hard for me because I know that ultimately I am to blame. I accept your pain as well as all involved. But acceptance does not come easy at night when I’m alone and the price is very high. I’ve seen so many kids, friends etc. ruin their very precious lives for no other reason than they felt unworthy of love. It’s not that they don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, it’s that they feel they are not worthy of it. You are Dana. I have been so proud of you my whole life. That Steve character is not worthy of my daughter and I cannot let you be brought down by someone who doesn’t have the brains to treat someone as precious as you with the respect you deserve. What I am doing should show you that I will stop and nothing to ensure your well being. both mentally and physically. I hope someday you can see how hard this is for me. Someday you will have children and understand all of this. So until then, take care honey. I will kiss you every night in my heart before I go to bed and will worry and love you forever. 

Love Always, 

Dad

Tears were streaming down my face and pooling in my lap, soaking through my sweatpants. I hadn’t even noticed until now. I was so focused on the words that I hadn’t even realized my body was having a physiological reaction, or any reaction at all for that matter. I straightened my gaze out over the backyard, not because there was anything to look at, but because I had to gain some sort of control over my mind and body. What the hell did I just read? What did it mean? And where had it come from? More importantly…… when?! Realizing the answer to my question lied in my hands I flipped the envelope back over so the front was again visible to me. My eyes swept over the address and landed in the upper right hand corner on the postage. The stamp was normal, one of those “forever stamps” with the flag pictured. But that was not what I was focused on. What I was searching for was the red stamp that had been placed over the top of the stamp. Generally, these were difficult to make out because they were partially hidden by the actual postage. In any case, it was my simple bad luck that this one was especially light in color. It was like the person in charge of stamping that day was severely hungover and unable to put any pressure on the ink pad. Are you freaking kidding me? I struggled to make out the date. The month was definitely January, and it looked as if the first number was a 1. I opened the top of the envelope and held it to the sun that was quickly rising over the horizon. Much better. I felt a quick sense of joy at my ability to overcome the misfortune, but it was quickly replaced by a churning nausea in my stomach. There it was, the postage stamp that revealed the date in which the letter had been sent. The red letters were blatantly starring at me and becoming swirls of color as I felt the black begin to cover my eyes like shades on a window. This was going to mark the second time I had almost passed out in my life, and it had all happened within 2 weeks. Jan. 12. 09. What the fuck was going on?

I forced myself to place my forehead on the cool metal arm of the char I was occupying. I figured this was going to help me stay conscious in this moment. The last thing I needed was for Steve to walk outside and find me passed out with a letter from the man he had killed in my hand, dated after his death. I had enough fucking questions of my own at the moment, I didn’t have the ability to answer any of his, or risk him becoming suspicious.

But what did this all mean? Was it truly sent on this date? Maybe the post office had lost it and it was sent at a later time when it was found again. There was all that holiday mail for them to contend with. But the letter looked clean and crisp. It didn’t look as if it had slipped through any cracks in the local post office, or dug out from in between some mail carrier seat. But how? It was only in this moment did I have a small sense of gratuity for my Aunt and grandmother having gone against his wishes and held an open casket. Because I was able to talk myself off the crazy ledge. He COULD NOT BE ALIVE! Dana, wake up, you saw him with your own eyes. It;s not possible! 

But then how the hell do I explain the date? And the words…. they were so geared toward my current situation, one I would not be in had he not died. I replayed parts over in my head….“What I am doing should show you that I will stop at nothing to ensure your well being, both physically and mentally…..” Did he know someone was coming for him? Did he know about Steve and McCrabben before they got to him? “I still plan on keeping that promise Squirt.” What did he mean by that? Was that literal or figurative? My father didn’t believe in religion, although I was never clear on his views of the afterlife. I can’t imagine if he was writing his last letter to me that he would speak so much in code. This had to be more literal. That is who he was. And then there was the date, how the hell did this letter get mailed out nine days after he was pronounced dead? I know the mail in Texas is fucking slow but that is a little out of hand.

I wasn’t getting any clarity from asking myself these questions. In fact, I was making it even more difficult to understand. I needed someone else to look at it, to read it. But who? Kim was grieving and until I knew what the hell it was I was dealing with I couldn’t burden her with this. My mother had been so good about not thinking I was insane up until this point, did I dare risk another chance? I thought for a moment how that conversation would go… “Hey Mom, thanks for supporting me in my plan to take down my husband and Dad’s mistress for his suicide that I believe to be a murder covered up. But now I am thinking he might not really be dead. Wanna check this letter out with me?”  Nope, no way. That was not going to work. I hated keeping things from my Mom, but this was too fucking crazy. I was on a mission to bring Steve and McCrabben down for a murder that I was now not sure had happened. Nut my proof so far yielded that they believed it had….. so how does the letter play into all of this? My mind went back to my original question, did he know they were coming for him and so he faked his death at their hands? Let them take the fall for something they planned to do while he had the opportunity to start over? But how could he do that to us? Okay, none of this was even an ounce of logical. I needed a slap in the face and a throat punch of reality. There was really oly one answer….. one person who could give it to me straight with absolutely zero judgement in the process. But I had to make sure I was alone first.

I pushed open the back door and called to Steve. No answer. I all but crossed the living room in a sprint to the front door to check for his truck. Empty driveway. I checked every room and closet in the house just for good measure> When I was sure he wasn’t there I pulled on my sneakers , zipped up my hoodie and grabbed my cell and the letter from the back deck. Maybe I was crazy, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Who knew what Steve was capable of, and if there was a recording device somewhere in this house, I wasn’t going to risk him finding out this news. Besides, I could probably stand to have some light exercise and the fresh air on my face.

When I felt that I was far enough from the house to be safe, I slipped my cell from my pocket and opened to the contacts page. When you need answers that are blunt and not sugar coated, and you need to speak without judgement you can only count on the person you have known since you were 2 years old. The only one who knows how you feel and what you are thinking before you have even realized it. My fingers slid through the contacts until I landed on my one true, always going to answer, no bullshit, best friend in the world. I clicked on her name and pulled the phone to my ear. She answered in two rings. “Dana, what’s wrong?” See? I told you….. she always just knew. “Deanna, we need to talk. I need you to help me sort something out.” And without another word I began reading her the letter. I knew I didn’t need to introduce the problem at hand. 21 years of friendship allowed for the absence of those kinds of things. She was silent as I read. When I finished, I took a single deep breath and waited. “So…. talk to me.” And she did.

Heavy breathing woke me from a sound sleep. It felt as if I had only slept a few minutes, probably because I had. Perhaps it was the idea that I was laying next to a man whom I assumed had killed my father and was looking for inheritance money that had kept me from falling into any sort of a deep sleep. Part of me was completely disgusted, while the other part was a bit scared. What easier way for Steve to get his money than to collect from his dead wife’s estate? Was I more of a victim than I originally thought? Yes, these thoughts and many others kept me up for most of the night. Now I was forced to face the morning, and what would come from my day.

I couldn’t bring myself to roll over and look at him, hearing his breathing was enough to send me hurling toward the porcelain bowl. I kept it together and eased myself out of bed as not to wake him. I scooped Daisy in my arms and went for kitchen in search of coffee.

Steve had told me last night that his company had given him the day off to “handle moving details.” I was livid at the thought of spending the day with him, and even more so that he thought he could just continue on with this moving nonsense without even asking my feelings about it. He just kept saying “it’s all for the better, you will see.” You are going to be the one to see you shithead, I would say inside my head. Even if I had to keep my retorts to myself, it felt good to think them.

I couldn’t do shit for investigation while he was still in the house, too risky. So I took this time to mentally form the next steps of my plan. This way when the opportunity to snoop presented itself, I would be ready. Coffee in hand and Daisy in tow, I headed for the porch. One thing I did like about Texas, even in January I could enjoy the sunrise outside with a light sweater and my slippers.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t left to my peaceful morning for long. “Hi Baby,” I heard his voice from behind me as he opened the back door. I don’t think it was the chill of the morning air that made the hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stand up straight. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I replied as politely as I could muster. “I guess I just have too much to think about.” I was hopeful that this answer would make him uncomfortable and bring the conversation to a screeching halt.

“I understand,” he said sympathetically. “What are your plans for today?”

Oh, not much, just figuring out how to pin you to the wall for murder and make sure you spend the rest of your life in a maximum security prison being treated like the bitch you are. Man, I had to get my thoughts in check.

“Not much, I was thinking I would start packing come of my important things. Do we have an estimated timeline for the move?” I figured I better act as if I was going along with this ridiculous plan so that he would give me some space.

“I need to be out to California in 10 days, and that is including the drive. I was thinking we could get the movers for the day before we want to leave and then get a hotel or something for our last night in San Antonio. That way we won’t beat our stuff there and have nothing to live with.” Steve sounded so practiced with these words, as if he had rehearsed them for days.

“Okay, “ I told him, “I can be ready, but if you don’t mind I would like to spend that last evening with my Mom, alone.” I added the last word so that he could understand this was not an open invitation to join my evening. Because truthfully, this meant I had ten days to get my proof in order and then run to my Mom’s house, with no intention of returning to him let alone joining him in a move to California. Although I found solace in the fact that this meant I only had to pretend to like this man for ten more days, I also realized that it put a short timeline on my plan for revenge. Shit. Ten days, I had ten fucking days to get enough information to take the DA and have him formally charged with my father’s murder. It felt like a dream, as if I had indeed slept last night and had been sleeping for days. I was brought back into my truth with the sound of his voice, “I am going to head out and do a few errands today, would you like to join me?” Spend hours in a car trolling around town with a potential murderer? Yea, sign me up! “No thanks, “ I said with the coyest smile I could plaster on my face. “I think I am going to stick with my plan of packing. I have a lot of things to go through in this house.” The last part wasn’t truly a lie, there were a lot of things I had to go through, mainly all of his shit. “Okay,” he said as he went for the door. “By the way, this came for you in the mail yesterday, I forgot to give it to you last night.” He handed over a white envelope that looked as if it belonged to another sympathy card. I was about to discard it to the side, not wanting to read the words “I’m so sorry for your loss” for the ten-thousandth time, when the front of the envelop caught my eye. I sucked in the cold air so hard that I thought I was going to choke. I looked back quickly to make sure Steve had already closed the door before I released the air from my mouth in a loud wooosh. I ran my fingers over my name and address that were printed on the front. There was no return address in the upper left hand corner, indicating that someone didn’t want me to know where it came from. But that wasn’t the strangest part. As my fingers slid over the shiny black ink I read the name that the card was addressed to Dana “Squirt” Smith. I felt tears begin to fall from my eyelids and I quickly moved the card away from their path. Squirt. It was a name I knew too well, but a name that only one other person in the entire world had ever called me, my Father. My hands began to shake as I carefully slid my index finger through the seal of envelope to reveal what was inside. Not a card, but yellow legal paper folded up neatly. That was what he always wrote to me on. Was this really happening? I unfolded the letter and starred at the handwriting that I knew all too well to belong to my father. I pressed the paper close to my chest and wiped my tears from my eyes with the back of my sleeve. I needed to prepare myself for whatever was going to be on this paper, and I couldn’t let Steve know what it was. Pull it together! I urged myself inside my head. I slowed my breathing and pushed the letter away from my chest and back into my sight. I started slowly and the words read to me as if his voice was right inside my head.