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The Connection Specialist: Dandelion Quills

Julie Vogler
Relationship Coach & Writer

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Wildlife

False Hope

Left waiting and waiting, taking what crumbs drop from the table, each scrap a piece of false hope.

When the person you want most in the world to pay attention to you...doesn't


Amy

I was in the backseat trying to read my book, but when we pulled up at a red light, I noticed the blaring radio had been turned down low and I heard Johnny, my little brother, say, “Dad, there’s this musician that my teacher had us listen to.”

I’d heard Johnny rehearsing his speech in his bedroom for several days. We were on spring break and there had been other opportunities but he hadn’t brought up the subject. I kept prompting him to do it and had even told him I could do it for him since I was considered a Daddy’s Girl and figured I’d have better luck. But he told me to stay out of it. He was two years below me in middle school, and I was protective of him. Now, on our way back to Mom’s house, he’d finally built up the courage.

“This guy’s music is way different than the stuff we usually play in class,” he continued. I set my book down on my lap. The shaking in his voice was audible. I couldn’t believe how nervous he was. He had negotiating skills so slick, Mom said he should become a used car salesman, but when it came to Dad, he’d get tied up in knots.

“Have I heard of him?” Dad asked.

“No. He’s a violinist but all electric. He’s coming to town in a couple months and…”

“Great,” Dad groaned, his voice laced with the usual sarcasm. “So your teacher is pushing her agenda on you, and let me guess, it costs a lot of money to go see this guy in concert.”

From the back seat, I could see they weren’t looking at each other. Instead, their eyes were focused on a man standing at the corner holding a little boy’s hand. The man was staring at his cell phone and hadn’t noticed the walk sign had turned green.

“Well actually, I was just listening to his music. Can I share it with you?”

Johnny had adopted all of Dad’s favorite artists and downloaded new songs he introduced to him as soon as he’d get home from our latest visit. I almost leapt over the seat as I watched him plug his MP3 player into the input jack. It was the unspoken rule that you never touched Dad’s car radio like you never take a man’s TV remote. But I couldn’t stop him, and, instead of the melancholy tones of Morrissey, the exhilarating sounds of an electric violin erupted through the speakers.

Johnny grinned and started playing his air violin.

Dad promptly punched off the button.

“Good God! What is this crap they force you to listen to? Why don’t they let you learn something cool, like Pink Floyd?” Dad said.

Johnny’s face fell and he immediately stopped playing his pretend violin. Dad didn’t notice. He was still watching the man at the crosswalk staring at his phone, the little boy tugging the man’s hand.

“I know, right?” Johnny said, rolling his whole head along with his eyes. “But we’re supposed to learn one of his songs and play it at the concert with other schools. The field trip is coming up and it lands on your Saturday with us.”

“They’re making you go to school on a Saturday and making you pay for it?” Dad said incredulously.

“Well, yeah, but there was a fundraiser. We just didn’t make enough money to cover it.”

“What fundraiser?”

“The concert where we played the Pink Floyd song. I invited you, remember?”

Johnny happened to be wearing the Pink Floyd T-shirt Dad bequeathed to him a few months ago. It was Johnny’s favorite shirt.

I winced, remembering the night of his last concert when Dad had said he would try to make it but never showed up. Johnny had been so nasty to Mom on the way home that night. And then he had curled up on his bed and cried when we’d gotten home.

Just then, Dad laid on the horn, and Johnny and I both jumped. “Damn it man! The sign says walk! Pay attention!” Johnny slumped in his seat, defeated. His sales pitch was dead, as I knew he wasn’t going to try again.

* * *

Johnny

We were returning home from another visit with Dad. As soon as we pulled up to our house, Amy leaped out of the car like it was on fire. It hadn’t even rolled to a stop yet. I didn’t have time to say goodbye to Dad because I needed to catch her. I knew she was going to explode on Mom and I had to stop her.

“Happy birthday!” I heard Mom shout as Amy barged into the house ahead of me.

Amy growled, threw her overnight bag at Mom, and dashed up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door.

Mom stood there with the bag in her arms, stunned and staring at the stairs. Her shoulders sagged and she dropped the bag, her eyes turning to me.

“He forgot.” She said it as a statement, not a question.

I nodded and then started to cry. I didn’t know why. It wasn’t my birthday Dad forgot this time. I had initially been jealous that her actual birthday landed on Dad’s weekend so there was no way he would be able to forget it like mine. I should have been happy that she wasn’t Dad’s chosen one anymore. But I wasn’t.

Mom came to me and wrapped her arms around me and I cried harder.

Then my older brother Andrew opened the front door, quietly slipped past us and tip toed up the stairs. Mom’s back was to him so she didn’t even notice. He was always trying to be invisible. I guess it was because he was a teenager, but he never wanted to go places with us, and when he did, he usually had his headphones on or his nose in a book.

“Do you think Amy saw the sign out front?” Mom asked me.

“What sign?” I asked. Not waiting for an answer, I went out the front door and saw a neon yellow poster stuck on a pole on the lawn. It read “Happy Birthday Amy” and was signed by all the girls at church with candy bars taped to it. It was so big and bright, I didn’t know how we could have missed it. We had hardly even been to church this past year because we were usually at Dad’s on the weekends, and when we did go with Mom, we felt like outcasts because we were the only ones without a happy family. But they’d remembered.

Then I noticed streamers and balloons strewn around the living room. I felt sick.

Dad had us every weekend that month, so Mom took us all out of school for a trip to the river for Amy’s birthday celebration. Except Andrew. He said he didn’t want to miss school. I didn’t know why he cared so much if he was failing most of his classes on purpose. I was kind of mad he wouldn’t take the time off for our sister, but considering he just sat in a corner and shut us out listening to his music, I thought he might as well not come.

We had a great time floating lazily down the river on that hot afternoon and eating a picnic lunch under a shade tree. I almost forgot Andrew wasn’t with us…until Mom got a phone call on the way home. The speaker on the other end was so loud I couldn’t help but hear what was said.

“Ms. Jones, this is Ms. Cortez, the counselor at Johnson High School. Your son Andrew had a panic attack during 5th period. The students received their progress reports and it seems that Andrew is failing several subjects and he kept repeating that he was worthless and wanted to kill himself.”

“Yes, he says that a lot,” Mom said calmly. “I am not familiar with you. Did you send him to the other counselor Mr. Donald? He usually goes there to cool down before going back to class.”

“Well no, Mr. Donald wasn’t available so they sent him to me. This is very serious. He needs to see a therapist.”

“Actually, it’s not serious and he already sees a therapist. If you talk to Mr. Donald, he can fill you in on the routine. May I talk to Andrew?”

“Well, he’s not here anymore. I couldn’t reach you so I called his father to come and get him.”

“Oh. So is Andrew at his dad’s house now?”

“I assume so,” the counselor answered. “His dad said something about going out to dinner before they went home. He said he would bring him to you by 6pm. I’m sure that he would have told you.”

“Pfft.” Mom rolled her eyes. “Okay, well, thanks for telling me.”

The drive was silent the rest of the way home. Amy was sitting beside me in the back seat since we’d been playing our video game together. After Mom hung up, Amy wouldn’t play anymore and stared out the window. Her hands were balled into fists and I swear I saw a vein bulging in her neck.

Mom picked up pizza on the way home. There was a lot of awkward silence at the dinner table.

“So what was one good thing and one bad thing about today’s river trip?” Mom asked. This was her standard conversation starter. “The birthday girl can go first.”

“My good thing was that I got to skip school today,” Amy said, staring down at her pizza. “And my bad thing…”

The front door opened and in walked Andrew.

“Andrew, you’re just in time for dinner!” Mom beamed.

“That’s okay. I already ate. Dad took me to Genghis Grill.”

I saw Amy’s body tense. That was her favorite restaurant.

“Well…sit with us anyway and then we can have some birthday cake.”

Andrew seemed unusually chipper as he sat down in his seat at the table. “Dad’s waiting in the car to say hi to you guys,” he said.

Amy swallowed her food audibly and then started coughing. She grabbed her glass of water to wash it down and got her coughing under control. She set the glass down hard, accidentally tipping it over and spilling the rest of the water. She started sopping it up with the napkins on the table.

I looked at the door, Andrew having left it ajar, apparently expecting us to dash out to see our old hero who had gifted us with his arrival. But I couldn’t move. I looked at Amy, wondering if she was going to give Dad a second chance to wish her a happy birthday, but she just stared at her plate, tears tumbling down her cheeks.

“If Dad wants to see you, he can come to the door,” Mom said. “You deserve that much respect from anyone.”

We sat there without speaking and I willed Dad to come to the door. Several minutes later, I heard his car back out and drive away.


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2024 JulieVogler

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