Shouldn't Have Said That

Shouldn’t Have Said That

“Once words leave your mouth, you can’t take them back, so watch what you say.” Mom’s wisdom.

Wish I’d remembered that before my irritated response, “leave me alone. I’m the driver, not you.”

“Just trying to help.”

Pain in her voice was lost in a fog of earlier uninformed driving directions and heavy traffic.

I should have said that following her regular bus route home meant crawling through a construction zone.

From then on she took the bus. If not the bus, then a taxi. Guilt compounded. A month later I learned she waited an hour for a cab to go to the hospital.

“You should have called an ambulance,” the doctor had chastised. “At your age this could have been serious.”

She wouldn’t. She was too cheap. Her cast-in-iron depression-years-mold instructed spend only when you must.

Thank God she only had a mild heart attack.

In my novel, Baggage burdens. that same rash action and guilt is seen.

Amber’s father is called out of a meeting. “Emergency,” he’s told.

The vet reports his daughter’s horse is seriously hurt. He must be put down. Joseph agrees. Two days later Amber hears about her horse’s death from a friend. She’s hurt and angry.

Very unusual business demands prevented Joseph from reaching his daughter earlier. When Joseph came home very late, she was ready for him.

 “When did you plan on telling me that you killed my horse?” Amber leans forward as if to attack. “I had to hear that Hoss is dead from Eve.”

“Amber!”

“You couldn’t of called me first, couldn’t of given me a chance to say goodbye to Hoss? How could you? How could you?” Her angry words fire out like bullets from a machine gun.

“Amber.”

Her tone switches from anger to pain and her volume rises. “He was my horse, my horse. Do you hear? I loved him.” Tears pour freely. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She stamps her foot in anger, like her mother.

Joseph gets up to give Amber a hug.

“Don’t touch me,” warns Amber. She steps back. “You don’t love me. You don’t love anybody. All you care about is your work. Just like Mom says. Money is all that is important to you.” Amber backs up again. “I hate you. I hate you,” she screams. Amber turns and runs to the stairs.

Joseph starts chasing after her, wanting to hold her, to explain, to apologize. He calls out to her. She turns. Her anger stops him. Her pain burns fiery red. The need to spit out poison bites at her. Amber turns and charges up the stairs.

Hoping to talk to Amber when she has cooled down Joseph plans to talk to her before supper next day. Amber avoids him by going to visit a friend. She doesn’t come home for supper. Desperate to talk to his daughter he goes to her girlfriend’s home.

Joseph tells Amber about the vet’s emergency call pulling him out of a meeting with Mr. Olsen’s suppliers. Then he relates the vet’s diagnosis and recommendation. As he suspects, Amber listens even though the information is several days late

“I thought of calling you then, but the vet didn’t want to have to make a return visit to the Wicksbergs. I’m sorry, Amber. Maybe I should have insisted that he come back, but lately life at work has been a major turmoil. I thought I couldn’t handle any more situations.” He holds Amber’s attention. “When the vet asked if I wanted to prolong Hoss’s suffering, I gave in. Please forgive me.” He hopes her silence means she’s considering his request.

Joseph describes the events of the last week to his friend. “I drove to Amber’s friend’s place to talk to Amber, to apologize, to say I’m sorry, to see if she’ll forgive me.” Joseph pauses, uncertain if he should continue.

“And?” asks Thomas.

When Joseph looks up, puzzled, Thomas clarifies. “Did she forgive you?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t say anything Friday night. I didn’t really expect her to. She saw me come home Saturday evening and Sunday morning. She didn’t say anything.

When the marriage breaks up, Amber can’t help worrying she was part of the cause.  Would her father have stayed if she accepted his apology? Would he have stayed if she hadn’t said she hated him?

She stews. I allowed emotion to rule. I was hurt. I lost Hoss. I was angry. Dad didn’t give me a chance to say good-bye to Hoss. I didn’t mean to split the family.

 haiku capsule:

angry words spoken

hurt feelings, connections severed

misgivings too late

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