Chapter 2: The Rose

excerpt: She prayed, and begged to her Papa that she might have an earthly father, but as she grew older, the prospect of ever finding a real dad grew more, and more dismal..."

Chapter II.

Let us turn our attention away from Charles and Robert for just a few moments. Let us disembark into the life of another human being who remains chained to their own castle.

Rose was a seventeen year old girl. She, unlike our gentlemen, at the moment, was growing very weary of her capacities. Rose’s dad was a ‘semi-alcoholic’, which meant he stayed sober long enough to finish his strenuous workday,( which ended at two-thirty in the afternoon) and see his daughter come home from school. However, not too long afterwords to spend anytime with his child, or do anything with her. He was not a bad dad, he provided an adequate home for her to live, and he cooked good meals for her. Starting immediately upon coming home around four o’clock, ( after errands were finished), the same cycle would begin, and the drinking took it’s appalling hold upon him from about five thirty until his bed time at seven thirty. Dinner time was six thirty; the same thing commenced most every evening;  Rose’s dad would call her to dinner, she would eat with him, and over the course of twenty minutes he would repeat everything he had told her since the time he had picked her up from school, and then he would tell new stories, and repeat them once, if not twice. And over the course of the meal he would repeatedly ask her if the meal was good. Regardless whether Rose liked it or not, she would reply: “ Yes Dad, thank you.”

The reader should know, Rose’s dad wasn’t always an alcoholic. Many years ago when Rose was a little girl he would just drink a few beers to relax in the evening. However, when Rose turned twelve years old she noticed changes in her Dad, they were slow coming, but she saw them. She was still young yet, so she couldn’t always explain why she was beginning to feel indifferent towards her dad. Now that Rose was seventeen she could look back and remember; it was around when she was twelve years old that her Dad wouldn’t play baseball in the backyard with her anymore, he wouldn’t come outside after eight o’clock, he wouldn’t play his CDs or records for her anymore, he wouldn’t watch Tv with her ( if her mom was in the room, we will learn of Rose’s mom later ), he wouldn’t dance with her. On a very rare occasion Rose would ask, “ Dad, why son’t you play frisbee, or baseball with me anymore?” He would reply because it was his bad back. ( He did really have a bad back ), That didn’t explain the music, or watching television. Also, Rose and her Dad had nothing in common anymore. Where Rose loved animals, her Dad hated them. Where Rose preferred painting and classical music, he liked heavy rock music, and football.

So, consequently over the course of a few years, Rose and her Dad grew further, and further apart. Rose found herself a’many a’time sitting on the sofa in her sun room, staring out at the somber sky, unconsciously tasting the tears that ran down her cheek, as she lay rocking herself in a fetal-position, until her Dad called her for dinner. Rose realized as she found herself no longer just seventeen, but “seventeen and a half” that she had not received a hug or kiss from her dad in five and a half years past. As he did, repeatedly, like everything else, he could say “ I love you” with a big smile. He could hand her wads of cash whenever she asked for it, but Rose didn’t want money. And just saying: “ I love you” wasn’t enough to Rose, in some cases words can mean very little, in this case they certainly met very little to Rose. Rose wanted a Dad, she came to loathe both him, and money. She felt that the alcohol had stolen him from her. Hence, Rose felt herself growing closer to God, she called him “ her papa.”  Saying: “ God” was too formal, “ Papa” was nicer, and if “ Papa” created all nice things in this world; compassion, empathy, and love, perhaps he should like the name too. Still, as much as Rose talked to her “Papa” he could not stand in person next to her. He did not have a body which Rose could hug. He didn’t reply in words to what she would ask him. That is what Rose missed and wanted. She could feel the “spiritual” warmth of her Papa’s arms about her sometimes when she did something good for another, or when she was extremely happy or sad. Sometimes the wind would blow in certain directions when she asked him something, but most of the time to Rose it wasn’t the same as having the being with you in actual person. 

She prayed, and begged to her Papa that she might have an earthly father, but as she grew older, the prospect of ever finding a real dad grew more, and more dismal to her with every passing year. A dad that wanted to spend time with her, or talk to her, or just sit with her. Perhaps her prayer would come true yet...

Reviews

[ravena]

I'm glad that there is a Continuation to the first part but Rose life seems sad !! I don't really cry but it touched my heart a little.