The Missing Knight in Shining Armor

themissing knight in shining armor

Zoe Terry

Imissed daddy-daughter dances. I missed a genuine father-daughter relationship. I was content with life. I overcame my debilitating stroke without him. I learned how to ride a bike without him. I learned how to swim without him. I learned how to drive without him. Looking back, contemplating my 13 years of life, I learned a lot without him. I became used to the lingering shadow of my father’s absence. I became independent, self-sufficient you could say. I mean, what could I say? It had been 13 years. I came to terms with the fact that he couldn’t be the dad I needed him to be. That was perfectly fine with me. I didn’t need him.

I was on the phone with my best friend. We were talking for hours, laughing, smiling, and just having a good time. Her voice was filled with joy that could light up a room around her, but I heard the whispers of my mom as she paced by my door. I gazed up catching a glimpse of her standing in the gap of my doorway with stares as hard as stone. She took deep labored breaths; contemplating opening the door to something she didn’t know if I was ready for. My godmother was next to her, egging my mom on to enter my room. She walked in and took a deep breath. Mom has always been a short, outspoken black woman. Effortlessly one of the strongest people I know. I saw that she was hesitant to speak. Gaga, my godmother, has always been one of the most serene and reasonable people I know. I saw she

was uneasy. When my mom walked in, her smug smile wasn’t there. Her eyes watered like raindrops dripping down from a roof. I could tell something was happening. I couldn’t put my finger on it. My heart was thumping in my chest.

My brain tried scrambling all the things it could be. Did I leave the door unlocked? Did my grades drop? All these thoughts were racing through my head.

She muttered the words, “Your dad wants to talk to you.”

My dad? I didn’t think I was ready. For the last 13 years, I came to terms with not having a father figure. I didn’t need a knight in shining armor. I had my strong, extraordinary mother and godmother who have taken care of me ever since I could remember. It was mind-boggling that after 13 years, he came back. I dreamed of this moment for years. I prayed and cried for this moment. An uneasy feeling weighed over me. Was this it? Was this the moment I hoped for? Was I finally going to get a relationship with my father? There was no direct answer to any of these questions. I sat there staring at my mom, while I aggressively bit my nails, glancing at the uneventful world outside of my window. Honestly, I was distracting myself from my new reality. He wasn’t just going to vanish in the shadows again. He wants his presence to be known. He is Zoe’s father.

“Zoe? Zoe? ZOE!” she called.

My mind was distant from the situation. I didn’t know what to do. I burst into laughter

fighting back my tears from streaming down my flustered cheeks.

“Oh, ok. How did he find me?” I asked eagerly. “Why come back now? What do I even say to him?”

My mom’s response was simple: “Whatever you wanna say.”

I was always a very talkative person. I blossomed in discussions. However, when it came to this, words escaped my mouth. There were things I wanted to say but was too scared to vocalize. My godmother chimed in.

“Ask him where he has been, Zoe.”

That was something I was scared to ask. The petrifying question. My reality was a beautiful nightmare for me. I finally worked up the courage to talk to him. I asked my mom if I could get water first to swallow my anxiety. As I walked to get water I imagined how the conversation would flow. I would say “Hello.” He would say, “Hi, how are you?” Hopefully the conversation would be quick. I drank the water then walked back to the room. My mom hands me her bulky phone and I sit propped up on my bed. The anticipation of the unrelieved dialing sound seemed like a lifetime. As the phone was ringing, I sat there—butterflies in stomach—waiting for an answer, trying to gather words.

I heard a deep voice say, “Hello, Ariel.”