Art of War Read online

  Do I look for a way out of relationships, like Kyle says I do? Maybe, but if I do, it’s only to protect myself. And besides, I always find something wrong. If they were the one I was meant to be with, then I wouldn’t find anything, right?

  Before I can give it any more consideration, we slowly pull into my father’s estate. It’s large and grand, just like I knew it would be. My father always wore his wealth like an armor, so this mansion is no surprise.

  My door opens, and it’s Mark. He helps me out of the car, greeting us. He says the nursing staff is expecting my visit and my father’s wife has left the estate. Mark claims she wouldn’t be so welcoming to me. So, I have a small window while she is at her country club to visit my father. Judith Larussa totally slipped my mind. I forgot that she might have been here. So, I agree because I don’t look forward to ever meeting her.

  Stepping into my father’s home is scary. It’s all so proper and dark. My nervousness returns full force, and Kyle notices; he grabs my hand again and squeezes. I smile up at him and slowly begin following Mark through the house. In the hall, Mark stops and tells me that this is his room. They knew Kyle would be with me, so my father’s staff set up a chair and refreshments for him in the hall.

  I turn to Kyle, who hugs me and whispers, “Be strong, Murph, you can do this. Say what feels natural, don’t hold anything back, no matter what it is.”

  I whisper back in his ear something I have never said out loud to anyone, “I’m scared.”

  Kyle pushes me away and looks deep into my eyes, knowing that saying something like that took a lot of courage and trust for me.

  He bends down, whispering again in my ear, “Not my Murph. She’s a lioness; show that man what he missed out on.”

  He kisses my cheek, grabs my shoulders and turns me around, swatting my ass to move. Here goes nothing.

  I walk into my father’s room and instantly smell death. It’s everywhere in the room. My father is lying in a hospital bed, attached to all kinds of medical equipment, and there is a nurse stationed on his side.

  The nurse takes notice of my arrival. She walks straight to me, saying, “I’m sorry, Ms. Larussa, we are trying to keep him as comfortable as we can in these last days. Your father might be in and out of consciousness because of the morphine drip. The cancer has spread rapidly. His breathing will be labored, so bear with him. He will remove his oxygen mask to speak to you, but if it gets too hard for him, please help him to put it back on. Are there any questions you would like to ask?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “I can tell you, ma’am, that when your father found out you were coming, he has been so excited. It’s almost like he had a reason to keep living.”

  I know my face tells it all. I’m so confused about why she would think that. I have never been his reason for anything. I want to scream at her and tell her no, but I remember my manners and say, “Thank you.”

  She leaves the room with a smile on her face, and I stand there, scared to move. He seems to be sleeping. I stare from a distance at the man I haven’t seen in years. He looks so frail, nothing like how I remember him. When I was younger, he was larger than life and walked around with confidence. This version of my father is unrecognizable. His hair is barely there, his skin is so wrinkled and thin. Dark bruises lead up both his visible arms. For a few minutes, I stand there frozen until his eyes open and he turns his head to look at me. He removes his mask and says in a low, breathy voice, “Cherry.”

  I’m so stunned that he calls out my mother’s name. Does he not realize that I’m not her? The nurse did say he’s on morphine, so maybe he’s out of it and confused. I take a few steps closer to him, and he smiles at me and his eyes beam.

  “No, you’re not Cherry. You’re my baby girl.”

  It takes everything in me not to start crying. I haven’t heard that nickname in years, and it brings back a wave of emotions I wasn’t prepared to feel. I am his baby girl, and God help me, I still want to be. It’s like all the shit I wanted to spew at him has vanished from my head and heart.

  “Daddy!”

  He extends his arm towards me to come and grab it. And I do. I walk slowly to him, grabbing ahold of his hand.

  “You’re so beautiful, baby. I’m so sorry. I love you so much.”

  He starts to cough, so I replace the mask back over his mouth and nose and tell him not to speak. His eyes stay on me but slowly close. He falls back to sleep, and with his hand in mine, I sit in the chair on the side of his bed.

  Looking down at his hand that I’m holding, I think back to when he always held my hand. Every time I saw him, it was his thing; he always, no matter where we were, held my small hand in his big one. Even if it was to watch cartoons on the sofa or walk me to the kitchen for a snack, and especially in public he always held my hand. Even if I didn’t want him to, he would grab it and never let go. It was one of my favorite things about him. When he was around, I felt safe and secure in that I was his and he would always protect me. But then he did let go, and he never came back. I never felt that safety and security again. I start to slowly rub his hand in mine, feeling his thin skin, wondering why so much time went by.

  I start to hear rumbling, and I look up to see him watching me. He removes his mask and starts to say, “You wore my mother’s pearls.”

  I nod to him.

  “She would have loved to see them on you. She would have been so proud of you, just like I am.”

  Proud? I wonder what he has to be proud about. He doesn’t know anything about me, but I don’t have the heart to tell him that.

  “Murphy I’m so sorry for all the time we lost. Believe me when I say, I didn’t want to be away from you.”

  He starts coughing badly this time. I jump up and hurry to put his mask back on, but he grabs my wrist, shaking his head.

  “Listen to me. I have so much to say. I love you. I did everything for you that I could. I know I did wrong, but I will fix it.” The coughing gets worse.

  “Please, let me put the mask back on. We have time, just rest for a minute.”

  I put the mask back on, and his coughing lessens. With his eyes still on me, he reaches out for something, but then I realize he wants me to get something. He points, and I see his nightstand.

  “Do you want something on here?”

  He shakes his head no but still points. “Is it something inside the drawer?”

  He nods his head. I open the drawer and see a single key. It’s a key to maybe a lockbox or locker. Holding it up, I ask, “Is this what you wanted?”

  He nods and points to me. “It’s for me?”

  He nods again and takes his mask off. “It’s to a box in my office in the casino. It’s yours. No one knows it’s there. Take it with you.”

  “For me?”

  He nods again, so I ask, “What is it? What’s inside the box?”

  He lifts his mask and says, “My love.” His hand slips away from his mask as he falls asleep again. I straighten out the mask and sit back down, staring at the key. His love? What does that mean?

  I’ve been sitting here for about twenty minutes, thinking more about my childhood. How I wished he was there and never was. How I hoped he would love me enough to stay but never did. How he replaced his love through extravagant gifts and money.

  There was, however, a time when he stayed.

  I was so sick with my tonsils, running a fever. My father was there for his visit when my fever just wouldn’t go away. He brought me to the hospital. The doctor informed him that my tonsils needed to be removed, but they would have to wait till my fever went down. My father became outraged with the doctor for not wanting to do the surgery right there and then. Mom had to calm him down and explain that it wasn’t safe to do the surgery until I was better. My father started to understand but insisted we stay at the hospital. They told him it wasn’t necessary, but he wouldn’t hear of it. So, they issued me a room, and I stayed for almost a week before they operated. That week, even though I was sick, w
as one of the best in my life. My father stayed and never left me. He even sent my mother off to work, and he would sleep in my room with me, holding my hand. He even had a man bring in books and toys. I also had all brand-new nightgowns brought to me. All long and silky with lace and matching ropes. I felt like a princess in them. A few days later, my fever went away and I went into surgery.

  As I woke up from surgery, I overheard my father yelling at someone on the phone. He was telling them he wasn’t leaving my side, no matter what they did. “Take it all away, I don’t care. I’m staying!” Those were his exact words. When he noticed I was awake, he hung the phone up on whoever he was talking to and came to my side. “How’s my baby girl?” He stayed another week after I could go home. He spoiled me rotten with popsicles and ice cream, and we watched every cartoon movie we could. On his last day, I again begged him not to leave me, but he left with no remorse.

  I look up to see him staring at me again. He removes his mask. “What were you thinking of?”

  I honestly answer, “All the times you left me. I even remember the day you left and never came back.”

  I see a tear roll down his face. “I need you to forgive me. I need to make it right.”

  “It’s too late, Dad. I’m not going to lie to you, it hurts to know that you couldn’t love me enough to stay with me and Mom. I know I’m going to be ashamed of myself for telling you all this, but I need to. You were never there, and that’s the truth. I just wanted you, not your gifts. I’ve hated you for so long now that I don’t know how to feel. The little girl in me still loves you very much, but the woman is having a hard time being here.”

  “I know, baby girl. I’m trying to make it right, you’ll see I did it all for you.”

  “For me? You left me and never came back. How is that for me? Did anyone even know I existed?”

  “Yes, that’s why I left. I needed to provide for you.”

  How dare he? “I needed a father, not just a provider!”

  Oh my God, I need to get ahold of myself; my anger is taking over, and no matter my feelings, I don’t want to yell at him.

  “Listen to me, Murphy. I left you the casino. It’s yours, but it’s not in a good place financially, but it’s all I have to give you. You need to make arrangements with the Sterns, Catherine. She will get you out of it.”

  “I don’t want anything from you.”

  “It’s yours. You need to move quick, Judith will not allow you to have it. She will come after you. Please deal with your mom and Catherine.”

  “She can have it.”

  “I worked my whole life to give you what you needed, and I will never forgive myself for not giving you what we both wanted.”

  What we both wanted? What did I get? “You got what you wanted, the money, the wife, the mistress, and the bastard child!”

  He starts coughing again, but I notice he’s crying. I go to cover his face with the mask, and he stops me.

  “I gave you my name, and I protected you because of it, the best way I could. You are not a bastard.”

  His breathing becomes shallower, and it becomes harder for him to speak.

  I tell him, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all that.”

  He shakes his head and tries to talk again.

  “I need you to know I love you more than anything. You are my baby girl. I did it all for you. I loved your mother so much for giving you to me. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” He quickly falls asleep again.

  Emotions are taking over. I can’t fight them anymore. I lay my head down on his chest and cry out, “I love you, Daddy, I love you, please know I love you. Don’t leave me again, please.” My crying gets harder, and I start to feel my dad’s hand on my head. I look up at him and say, “I need more time.”

  “I wish I could give it to you. I needed to see you one more time before I left for good.”

  I lift my head and kiss his cheek. “I love you, Daddy.”

  His hand slips away, and he falls back under. The nurse clears her throat, letting me know she’s in the room. I turn to look at her.

  “Ma’am, your father needs rest now. Maybe you could visit him again at another time.”

  I look back down at my father one more time and kiss his cheek again, knowing this is probably for the last time. “Bye, Daddy.”

  I turn and walk out of the room. As soon as I’m at the door, I see an older woman talking abrasively to Kyle. She’s dressed to the nines. I quickly realize that she must be Judith. Mark quickly comes to my side.

  “Murphy, we should get you and your friend out of here. She wasn’t supposed to be back yet.”

  I nod my head and wipe my tears away. I stand tall and start walking to Judith and Kyle. She turns, looking at me with venom in her eyes.

  “You? What the hell are you doing in my house?”

  Mark interrupts before I can tell this bitch off.

  “Judith, you knew she was coming.”

  “Well, I didn’t think she would have the gall to carry her bastard ass in my house.”

  She turns to look back at me, looking me up and down. Then before I know what’s happening, she grabs my pearl necklace in her hand. I respond by wrapping my hand around her wrist tightly. Knowing that she wants to rip them off me, I say with all my anger, “Don’t you dare!”

  “Where did you get these pearls?”

  “My father! Now let them go!”

  She debates for a second and then releases them by opening her hand. I, in return, slowly remove my hand from her wrist.

  “You are just like your whore mother.”

  Right there and then, I knew I was taking all my father planned on giving me, and I wasn’t leaving till I had this bitch pissed off.

  “No, that’s where you’re wrong. My mother left, I’m staying, so get used to it!”

  I start walking away from her and see an open-mouthed Kyle. Without stopping, I find my way out of the house and to the car. Kyle follows me and enters from the other side. After he sits, he grabs my hand to hold it. I can’t let him start talking or ask me anything right now. I’m barely holding it together, so I say while looking out the door window, “Not now.”

  He listens and says nothing but continues to hold my hand.

  Once we get back to the hotel, I enter our room and go straight to my bedroom, closing the door. I know Kyle wants to talk to me, but I still can’t. For hours, I lay on the bed, just staring off into space. My mind keeps drifting from good times to bad. All the times I felt his love, and then the times I felt nothing.

  I hear a knock on my door, then Kyle says, “Listen, hon, I know you don’t want to talk, but I ordered you some chicken noodle soup. Please come out and eat. I promise I won’t say anything.”

  I don’t respond; I just lay there in an emotional state. So many emotions that I don’t know how to process. The wall I built up is starting to shatter, and it scares the hell out of me that I won’t be able to keep afloat. I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of unknowns.

  I open my hand and see the key he gave me. Looking at it, I’m trying to imagine how such a small thing could hold so many questions for me. When I asked what the box had in it, he said, “My love.” What could that possibly mean? I close my hand back up, securing the key. My phone rings, and I know it’s my mom; Kyle must have called her. I don’t answer. I’m not ready to talk to anyone. Not until I can figure out where I go from here.

  I must’ve fallen asleep because I wake fully dressed to my phone ringing. I grab it and notice it’s 3:17 in the morning, I also notice it’s Mark. I answer the phone, not saying anything.

  “Hello, Murphy, are you there? It’s Mark.”

  I clear my throat. “Yes, Mark, I’m here.”

  “Murphy, I’m sorry to be calling you at this hour, but I figured you would want to know your father passed away about an hour ago.”

  It’s quiet for a while, so Mark says, “Murphy, are you still there?”

  In a whisper, I say, “Yes.”

  �
��Good, I’m sorry for your loss, but we need to discuss the will. I’m going to give you a day or two, and then I will call you to meet me at my office. Please do not leave, it’s important that you be there. Okay?”

  “Yes.” I hang up on him and run to the bathroom. I slam the door and start throwing everything on the counter to the floor. I look in the mirror and see my tear-stained face, hating that I allowed him to make me cry again. I start ripping my dress, tearing it off. I look back at myself in the mirror and see I’m still wearing the pearls. I could rip them off, too, but instead I pull them over my head and lay them on the counter. With nothing but my slip on, I fall to my knees, crying like I’ve never cried before. I turn and sit on my butt and hug my legs tight to my chest. Leaning my back against the cabinets and laying my head on my knees, I cry for my loss of a father, my loss of the love I thought I deserved, and I cry for what could have been but can never be now. Damn him for making me feel all this again, Damn him!

  I hear the door open. I look up and see Kyle; he’s thrown back for a second seeing me in this state. He gets down on his knees and pulls me onto him.

  “Let it out, cry your heart out, Murphy, and then you pick yourself back up. You hear me?”

  I nod my head and lean into him, crying for everything I lost. When my tears start to subside, recognition takes its place. I’m done, it’s over, all the wondering and worrying that I wasn’t good enough, all that is finished. I can’t change any of it or go back in time. A pressure that I didn’t realize I was carrying is finally lifted, my shoulders feel lighter as I start to stand. I leave Kyle sitting on the floor and look in the mirror. I am stunned at my appearance but feel a great sense of relief. There is no more fighting between my heart and head. He’s gone, and I have to live with the facts. I am his daughter, and I will not be ignored anymore.

  I leave Kyle in the bathroom and head to the living room.

  Kyle follows. “Murph, what are you doing?”