Uncle Billy

A six year old girl, sweaty hair falling out of her blond ponytails, plays in front of her grandparent's house. She is alone, not unusual for an only child, but this only child was usually surrounded by a half dozen or so cousins, aunts and uncles, who were all close to her age. Across the street, a man sits in a car. If asked to describe the car, the girl could not; cars are of no interest to her. She doesn't look up until the sun catches the driver’s door window as it opens. A man is getting out and this piques her interest just enough that she continues to stare instead of looking back down at the ants she had been watching. The man is looking at her too and there is something about his gaze that says he is there to see her. She stands up and puts her hand over her eyebrows to get a better look at the man who is now crossing the street. There is no fear in her, just curiosity. As he gets closer, the girl says " I know you! " and points at the big bear of a man. His face, his strangely familiar face breaks into a wide smile and he laughs " I know you too! "

At the same time, the girl's mother is walking up the long driveway. She stops a few feet away from where the girl and the man stand. " Time for supper! " she says. Her voice is louder than it needs to be and sounds angry for reasons the girl can only think have to do with her.

She grabs the man by the hand and says " Mom, Uncle Billy's here! " The mother tells her to go in and wash up and that she needs to speak to Uncle Billy. Her tone makes it clear that she is not to be questioned about this, so the girl reluctantly walks towards the house. As she turns the handle of the door, she looks back and sees her mother's arms flying out at her sides and hears her angry voice. The girl feels sad and ashamed, though she isn't sure why.

The girl sits at the table, after kissing her grandfather on the cheek. " Hiya, Pretty! " He says. This usually makes her feel happy, but at the moment, she is thinking of her mom and Uncle Billy outside. She suddenly gets up and runs to the window… in time to see the car ( it was blue ) drive up the hill and away from the house. She sees her mom walking back to the front door, her face seething.
The girl sits down next to her grandpa again. He strokes her hair and gives her a smile. He takes her hand in his and gives it a squeeze. As she looks up at him with teary eyes, her mom comes in and hands her a gift.

"it's from Uncle Billy " she says and walks into the kitchen to help Grandma with the food.

Gifts are meant to be happy things but the girl felt very unhappy as she opened this one. It was a tea set. She was a tom boy, but swore through her tears that it was the best present ever.
Her grandmother came in then with her milk and the bread and butter. She was starving a half hour ago, but now the thought of eating made her feel sick. She wanted to lay down and cry instead of eating her grandma's good meatloaf .
Her mom put some carrots and corn on her plate as her grandma handed around the meatloaf. She stared at it, then at her mom. She knew she'd have to eat it all. What's more, she knew that there would be no more conversation about Uncle Billy today. What she couldn't know was that she wouldn't see him for 11 more years.

Somewhere along the line, Uncle Billy became the bad guy. He was to blame for any sadness in her, any feeling of difference. After all, he hadn't called or written or tried to find her out in front of her grandparents house again.

But, he was there, she found out much later - too late. He was there at her softball games, just far enough away that she wouldn't recognize him. He was there when she finally rebelled and reached out and then cursed him for leaving her. He was always there, in little ways and especially in the gaze she saw looking back from her mirror. Always, always there.

Uncle Billy died much too young. Too young to hear her call him Dad again, like she had when she was small, so small she couldn't remember. Before he learned that she had forgiven him, that she knew, finally, that it wasn't all his fault, that he had tried and failed and tried and failed again.
Parents are fallible.