24
Numbers have only the meaning we give them, like the number 24. What does 24 mean? My life has taught me it’s more than the number that lies between 23 and 25. Twenty-four is the number stitched on the jersey my Dad used to wear when he played pro basketball. It is also the age my parents were when they got married after meeting in college. Twenty-four is the day in December nine years ago that changed my life forever.
Awaken by the sounds of my father and brother, David, bringing the Christmas tree in the house; I hurried downstairs. This Christmas, I believed, was going to be the best ever. My dad got a promotion at his job; he was the boss and with that came more money. By the end of summer, we moved to a larger house in a better community. David and I attended nicer schools, which meant no more bullies. My dad bought my mother a brand new minivan, in which she promised to teach me to drive. She made a fuss about Dad asking to drive her minivan to get the Christmas tree, but it couldn’t fit in his car.
“So, what do you think princess?” Dad asked, kissing me on the forehead.
“Wow, it’s amazing! It’s taller than you Dad. How tall is that thing?” I asked flabbergasted.
“I think it’s got me about six inches. It’s about seven feet,” he said, gleaming with pride.
“Yeah Dad, and I can’t wait to put my basketball ornament I made on top of it. I’m going to be a basketball player just like you,” David said, hugging my father’s waist.
“Playing sports is ok, but it’s not all of that son,” Dad said, going from smiles to a place of pain where he used to reside when he injured his leg.
“But you were a star, Daddy,” David said, unrelenting to change the conversation.
“You were a baby and can’t even remember,” I snapped at David.
“But, I see the pictures, and my number is going to be 24 also,” David started, but my mother interrupted us.
“Daphne, I saw a package by the mailbox. Please see if it’s those ornaments I ordered,” Mom said as I stood in awe of the largest tree we had ever had in my 15 years.
“Yes, ma’am!” I said, running upstairs to get my coat out of my room.
In our new home, my room was large enough that I had my very own bathroom. I always found it embarrassing sharing a bathroom with my 6-year-old brother with me being a teenage girl. One time he brought my sanitation napkin to the dinner table and told my parents that I hurt myself and had a really big “boo-boo.” But, those days were over. They say money can’t buy you happiness, but we were living it. It was a dream come true. When we didn’t have money, it seemed as if we were living in a never-ending nightmare. The only times my parents spoke was to argue. They argued over any and everything, even brands of toothpaste.
When my dad got his promotion at the car dealership, money sweep in like a magical genie and replaced everything that was broken with something new. Dad treated Mom nicer; he bought her gifts like the vacuum cleaner she always wanted and the newest crockpot. Mom made sure our new home was as clean as a whistle. A home-cooked meal awaited him every night in the microwave when Dad came home. With this new job, he rarely ate dinner with us because he had to work late. But on the holidays, we had him all to ourselves.
It didn’t seem like Dad did much for himself except getting a membership at a gym and buying a small red sports car and new clothes. I remember sorting the clothes one day and seeing that his underwear changed from tighty-whities to boxer briefs. One time he took me out for a daughter and dad date, and he played cool music with the top down. My dad was the coolest dad in the world.
When I went to get the box that sat near the mailbox, I noticed a small gold box under Dad’s car. I picked the box up and brought it into the house. I placed it on the counter with the larger box and David grabbed it.
“What is this Daddy?” David pried.
“Mind your business! It’s probably for Mom,” I blushed so happy knowing that my parents were in love again.
“Give me that!” Dad said, trying to get the box from David.
“Hmmm, indeed. What do we have here?” My mother smiled and placed her hand out so David would give it to her. At that moment, my father grabbed the box.
“Give me the damn box!” he growled, snatching the box out of my mother’s hand.
“You don’t have to be rude Charles!” Mom snapped. “Kids go upstairs.”
“But I wanted to help decorate the tree,” David whined.
“I will call you down later,” Mom said, eyeing me to take David.
I hadn’t seen her this mad since the time Dad moved out for a couple of months.
I walked David to his room and shut the door; then I sat on the stairs so I could ear hustle.
“What’s in the damn box Charles? Or rather who is the box for?” she asked, making my heart stop.
“See you can’t just let bygones be bygones, Mia! This is the bullshit that I hate! Why can’t you just be happy? This Christmas is a 360 difference than last year’s, and here you go with this bullshit!” he fumed, still not addressing her questions.
“So you’re going to try to put this on me. Play mind games with the kids; I’m an adult. Answer my damn questions! I can’t stay out the past when reminders resurface,” she vented.
“What reminders? I am doing the best I can considering.”
“Considering what Charles?” she insisted.
“Considering that I don’t…,” he paused.
“You don’t what?” she screams.
“I don’t love you! I don’t love you, Mia,” he yelled, breaking my soul.
There was a deathly silence. I ran into the kitchen, and my parents both turned and looked at me.
“Daphne, please go, upstairs princess,” Dad said with tears trailing the contour of his face.
“No, no! What do you mean you don’t love Mom?” I asked as tears slowly filled my eyes like dams about to burst.
“Mommy, Daddy, what’s going on?” David asked, running down the stairs.
“I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t,” Dad said as he went to the door.
“Fuck you, Charles! You are so selfish, and you have always been,” Mom said, running to the door and punching him on his back.
“I wasn’t selfish when I married your pregnant ass. Let’s not act like this was some fairy tale, Mia,” he said, restraining her.
“Daddy, please don’t go,” David exclaimed, wrapping his arms around my dad’s leg. “Christmas is tomorrow and what will we tell Santa?”
“I love you two,” he said looking at us both. He went to his car with David running after him.
“David, I love you son. I will come to see you and your sister tomorrow,” he said, hugging him. “And David, Santa doesn’t exist.”
As Dad pulled away, I felt my whole life had cracked into a million pieces of glass. My mom wailing returned storming into the house.
David ran down the driveway after my father’s car, but Dad wouldn’t stop. Finally, David sat down in the middle of the road and began to cry. Still lost in the darkness of my thoughts, I could barely get the words out when I saw the other car coming. It happened so fast that before I got halfway down the driveway, he was dead. His head severed from his little body.
That was the last day I saw my brother and father. Not able to live with what happened, my dad ended his life on Christmas evening. My mother never recovered from either tragedy, but I visit her often at my grandparents’, who raised me.
Numbers can ignite memories both good and bad. Today as I celebrate my birthday with my boyfriend as his team wins the championship, he makes a grand announcement during his MVP interview.
“I feel great but not just about the game, but today is my girlfriend’s Daphne’ s 24th birthday! She’s here supporting me now. She is the MVP in my life, and I want to take this opportunity to tell her and the world how much I admire her strength and love. Loving her has changed my life and inspired me to be a better me. She is one of life’s true champions, and I want to spend my life with her. Daphne, will you marry me?” Chad asked, wearing his sweaty number 24 jersey with a small gold box in hand.
September 9, 2017
DDJ
DD Jewell 