Inescapable Nightmare

From Todaycollegetour

I closed my eyes and recalled the horrific events aloud. It was late afternoon on a Tuesday during winter break when I was given life-changing news. My dad and I were sitting around the dining room table when he broke the news to me that he was moving to Kuwait. I stared at him in awe as he said, “I’ll only be gone for a few months at a time.” My jaw dropped even furthur. “I know you understand the economy and why I have to do this much more than they do!” He said while gesturing to the living room where my significantly younger half-brother and half-sister were playing.
He waited for me to reply.
“I just don’t get why, dad! Why Kuwait?” I whispered trying to suffice my emotions, as I was unable to force my eyes to meet his.
He then took my hand, something he rarely ever does, and forced me to make eye contact with him. Then he spoke calmly, softly, and slowly. “I was laid off at the hotel. I can’t find another job.” He confessed. “A friend told me about this opportunity where I can work in Kuwait for several months at a time, earn money, and not have to pay taxes.”
I quickly looked away from my dad, shocked that this was the first time he’d shared this information with me.
I opened my eyes and examined the room I was sitting in. My psychologist observed me quietly as I stood and paced the room. I returned to my seat, took a deep breath, and continued to tell the events from that night.
My dad knew I was having a hard time processing all of this information so he continued to explain. “You know the economy is forcing a lot of people into unemployment and debt, right?” He asked and hesitated for a second. “I just can’t go back into that. Besides, Kuwait is an ally with the U.S. so I’ll be fine, you’ll be away at school, and I’ll be back just in time for your summer vacation…but financially better off this time!”
I knew there was no way I could convince him to reconsider. I could feel his eyes on me, trying to read me, and hoping that I’d understand. I wanted to cry, to scream, or even run out of the house. I just wanted to wake up from this nightmare. I bit my lip, took a deep breath, swallowed each and every emotion and thought running through my head, put on a fake smile, and looked up at my dad. He opened his mouth to say more, but the arguing from my siblings in the other room forced him to leave the table immediately.
Fear, sadness, and thoughts of losing my dad quitely exploded as tears filled my eyes. I ran to the bathroom, locked the door behind me, and finally let the tears and emotions overflow. My eyes met my reflection in the mirror and the realization that this wasn’t a nightmare or even a disgusting joke sunk in.
“What am I going to do?” I quitely whispered to my reflection. Feelings of guilt overcame me as I looked down at my new Nike shox, one of the few rather expensive gifts I received from my dad for Christmas. Tears flowed faster down my cheeks, as I realized that I was the cause for my dad being in debt. I had never considered myself spoiled compared to most of the kids I went to school with. But the truth is my dad always made sure to give me everything I wanted, frequently called and asked if I needed money, and supported my expensive habits of weekend shopping and eating out with friends. I couldn’t look at myself anymore.
I desired to return to my mom’s house where I could openly cry and express all emotions without having to put on an “I’m okay with this” act. I knew I couldn’t stay in this bathroom much longer without worrying my dad but there was no way I could stay here.
I quickly grabbed a tissue to wipe the tears, fixed my makeup, and attempted to clear my throat, getting rid of all evidence to prove that I just had a breakdown in the bathroom.
I opened my eyes and looked at the psychologist sitting across from me. I wiped the tears that slowly ran down my cheeks while explaining my flashback. He waited patiently as I readjusted myself in the chair, looked down at the floor, and continued to retell my story.
I returned to the living room where my dad sat on the couch watching a sports game on the television. He stared at me as I watched my half-siblings play with cars and dolls on the living room floor. My heart began to pound loudly in my chest, my eyes filled with tears, and my breath quickened. I stared at my shoes as I quickly replied to the staring eyes, “My mom just called and needs me to let the dogs out. They’ve been inside all day and probably need to relieve themselves!” I hated lying, especially to my family, but I could no longer maintain myself and wasn’t ready for another reassuring talk.
I immediately kissed my brother and sister good-bye, grabbed my purse, promised to return the following morning, and was out the door before anyone had the chance to say good-bye.
The twenty-minute drive back to my mom’s house was a blur. I tried to process the thoughts running through my head but that only led to tears. So I just blasted my music and focused solely on the lyrics in order to clear my head.
A feeling of relief overcame me as I pulled into the driveway and noticed that no one was home. I quickly unlocked the front door, ran upstairs without even acknowledging the two curious dogs staring at me from the living room, and jumped onto my bed. Tears streamed from my eyes as I thought about my dad moving to Kuwait in a month. I desperately tried to not think about the dangers he’ll face that’ll put him in the front seat for injuries or even death.
Even though my dad and I didn’t have half as close of a relationship as my mom and I did, I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him. My stomach tightened, my body began to shake, and my heartbeat drastically increased. I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and allowed my mind to vividly picture myself receiving a call announcing a terrorist attack of some sort on a building that killed everyone inside, including my dad. My eyes popped open, a water ballon full of tears exploded from my eyes, and I desperately tried to think of something, anything to remove the last picture from my mind.
I suddenly stopped talking, looked at the psychologist, brushed away the fresh set of tears from my eyes, and swallowed the emotional scream I desperately wanted to let loose. I looked down at my lap and noticed that my hands were clenched in tight fists and my knuckles had turned white. I took a deep breath in, held on to it, slowly let my hands unravel, and allowed my lungs to push out the air. I looked up again and recognized the psychologist’s eyes were waiting to hear the rest. I nodded once, looked down, and closed my eyes as I began to recall the next set of events.
I sat there on my bed, failing to calm myself, when I heard the front door open. My mom was home. I heard the front door close and the dogs running to greet her as she called, “Meems! I’m home!” I desperately wanted to run down the steps and into her comforting arms.
“She’s your best friend! You tell her everything! She can calm you down and comfort you!” I whispered to myself as I slowly picked myself up from my bed. “But telling her will make all of this become real. Maybe things won’t work out and he’ll be forced to take some kind of low-paying job here.” I said to myself while sitting on the edge of my bed. I leaned my head back again, closed my eyes, and hoped for this horrid nightmare to end.
I tiptoed to my bathroom to ensure that my mom wouldn’t hear me, quietly shut the door behind me, turned on my shower, and quickly threw off all of my clothes. I stepped into the shower, closed my eyes, leaned my head back, and finally felt a sense of calmness overcome me with the hot water lightly burning my skin.
“What am I going to do?” I repeated to myself, too exhausted to process any thoughts, ideas, or emotions. I took a deep breath in, slowly exhaled, and pushed all thoughts and memories from today to the very back of my mind.
I opened my eyes and stared at my shoes, unable to glance up at my psychologist. He didn’t say anything and I’ve never been more relieved or welcoming for awkward silence. I knew the worst thing to do was bottle up my feelings, but I concluded that I’d deal with this situation when it was time. And to this day, I still hope that the time where my dad moves to the violent Middle East will never come.