Something Like Hope

Free Something Like Hope by Shawn Goodman

Book: Something Like Hope by Shawn Goodman Read Free Book Online
Authors: Shawn Goodman
cold up there?
    I tell her I have to go.
    This means I’ve got six months. Time is running out. I’ve got to fix things. I don’t have a plan yet, but I’ve decided to get real with Mr. D. Maybe he can help me. If anyone can, it will be someone like him—someone with sad eyes and a life that’s not all perfect and happy. Someone who might actually be able to understand. Not justthat, but he seems to know things, like how to quiet your mind when the same crazy thoughts run over and over. Or how to accept something that isn’t fair. I need to learn how to do these things. I’m going to try harder. It’s a promise to myself. And to Jasmine.

30
            “Y ou have a child, right?” Delpopolo asks, but it’s not really a question. “Will you tell me about her?”
    “Sure, if you tell me about your kids, Mr. D.”
    “Okay, I have a daughter. What’s your daughter’s name?”
    “Jasmine. She’s twenty-three months old. I had her when I was almost sixteen. Yours?”
    “Cynthia. She doesn’t live with me anymore. I’m divorced. Do you miss Jasmine?”
    I am surprised that Mr. D is telling me this much about his family. When I was sick, he told me about his mother and the soup, but that’s all he’s said about his personal life.
    “Yes. But I never even got to know her well. I’ve seen her during visits, and I have some pictures. Do you miss your daughter?”
    “I do. I really do. She’s a terrific kid. Where’s Jasmine’s father?”
    “I don’t know. He was a loser, but because he was older and had a nice car and flashy clothes, I thought … I don’t know what I thought. That maybe he cared about me.”
    “But he didn’t?
    “No. Not really. He didn’t even come to the hospital when she was born. Then he got arrested, and I haven’t seen him or heard from him since. What about Cynthia’s mother?”
    “Gone away. To California.” Mr. D is quiet for a minute. Then he gathers himself with what looks like tremendous effort and continues. “Tell me what’s special about Jasmine.”
    It’s the first time I’ve been asked this kind of question. It’s such a simple question, but I don’t know the answer. I can say stupid things like “she’s cute” or “she’s so sweet,” but those are clichés.
    “I don’t know, Mr. D. I don’t know what’s special about her other than she’s pure and innocent and beautiful the way all babies are. But it’s so hard for me to think about her as a person, separate from me and my problems. It’s all a big knot of problems.”
    Mr. D is quiet again, so I go on. “I’m not a good mother, Mr. D. It doesn’t matter how special Jasmine is because I can’t really appreciate her. If I did, we’d be together.”
    “I can see how you’d think that, but it’s circular logic. It doesn’t float.”
    “What do you mean, ‘doesn’t float’?”
    “It doesn’t hold water. It’s no good.”
    “Why?”
    “Because. It always leads back to the starting place. You’re here because you’re a bad person, because only bad people get sent here. It’s circular and doesn’t prove anything.”
    “It makes sense to me.”
    “Listen, do you ever have fantasies or daydreams about you and your daughter together?”
    “No.”
    “Really?”
    “I’m not lying and I’m not playing any games with you, Mr. D. I just don’t think about it.”
    “Why?” He asks this question in the mildest and most curious way. It’s like he really wants to know and isn’t leading me toward some point where he’ll say, “You see? That’s because …” There’s no bullshit moral or lesson. He just wants to know why.
    “Because … I won’t let myself. I want to, but there’s no point.”
    “Why won’t you let yourself have fantasies about being with your daughter?” Again with the “why’s.”
    “Because if I can’t do my job as a mother and actually be with her, then I don’t deserve to have the fantasies. And there’s a part of me that thinks I

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