I think I’ll take it upon myself, just the way I did with my daddy, to make Zack smile. Maybe not often, and maybe not permanently, but at least every once in a while.
It will do him good.
—
After washing my face, brushing my teeth, and putting my pajamas on, I pull back the covers of my bed—which is so deliciously comfortable that I think I could spend most of my life in it—grab my cellphone off the nightstand, and call my daddy. “Hey, pumpkin,” he drawls as soon as he answers. His voice is strong and clear, so he hasn’t been drinking today. Robert Francis isn’t a complete drunk, but when he gets depressed, he hits the bottle hard. “Hey, Daddy,” I say, and I can’t help that my voice goes all girly and sweet when I talk to him. He may have been absent emotionally at times when I was growing up, but he was always by my side and supporting me when it truly counted. He’s my daddy, and in some ways, I’m still his little girl.
I grew up fast, and that meant I started to understand at an early age that grief can create the worst sort of demons for a person to battle. I accepted that, and although it made me sad to see my daddy so sad, it didn’t make me love him any less.
Nope. Made me love him and cherish him more. Made me work hard to bring smiles to his worn face.
“So how’s the new job going? All settled in?” he asks, and I can just envision him sitting in his old brown Naugahyde recliner.
“Yup. Everything’s great,” I say as I snuggle down into my pillows. “Oh, and you should see this little boy, Ben. He’s adorable and witty, and he thinks I’m just the most hilarious thing ever.”
“You are the most hilarious thing ever,” my daddy says with a laugh. “Kelly’s three boys think the sun rises and sets on you.”
“And speaking of which…how are Kelly and the boys doing? I called her a few times this week, but she hasn’t called me back.”
My dad makes a chuffing noise of disappointment. “She’s moved in with some guy that lives over in Rose Hill. Says she’s in love.”
“Again?” I ask drily.
“Again,” he confirms with a sigh. “But she’s got her a job at some little mom-and-pop convenience store out in the country. Seems happy.”
“That’s good,” I say with a smile. “And Thomas?”
My brother, Thomas, is serving an eighteen-month stint in prison for drug possession. It’s his second time in the pokey, and I expect he’s going to be nothing more than a career offender. He’s five years older than me and left home when he was sixteen, so I’m not very close to him. Daddy goes to visit Thomas in prison, but Kelly and I don’t have much contact with him.
“He seems to be doing fine. He’s safe,” he says sadly.
“That’s good,” I say softly, wishing I could give my daddy a hug right now. He carries a lot of burden on his shoulders, and I know one that eats at him is his potential failure as a father after my mother died. He feels like Thomas’s drug issues and Kelly getting pregnant so young are solely his fault. He doesn’t place any blame on their doorstep, which is wrong, in my opinion.
Clearing his throat, my dad says, “You make me so proud, Roberta.”
“Kate,” I say with exasperation, which causes him to chuckle. He intentionally calls me by my first name to poke at me.
“You ashamed of your name?” he asks with mock offense.
“Not when I’m a seventy-year-old granny sitting on my front porch knitting an afghan while surrounded by my grandchildren,” I tell him with a snort. “But in my younger years, I think I’ll stick to Kate.”
He lets out a bark of a laugh followed by a smattering of chuckles. “A father couldn’t ask for more than what you’ve given me, Kate. You are something else.”
“I get it all from you,” I tell him hoarsely. My father was never stingy on handing out warm sentiments to me, but they still get me choked up every time.
“I hate that you don’t want to go to your graduation,” he says with a slightly bitter voice. “I would have bought that cap and gown for you. Would have loved to see you graduate.”
“It’s just a ceremony, Daddy,” I say gently. Truth be told, it’s killing me not to be able to walk the stage with my classmates, but I couldn’t see spending that money, and I wasn’t about to let my daddy pay for it. Not when he lives hand to mouth most of the time because of his spotty work history.
“It was the most important thing in your life and mine as well,” he grumbles.
“Well, the diploma is going to come to your house, so keep it safe for me. We’ll frame it one day and have a grand old party when we do. We’ll sit out on the porch and eat boiled peanuts and drink birch beer to celebrate. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds mighty fine,” my dad says, and everything is good once again.
We talk for a bit more, but when I give a big yawn into the phone, I regretfully tell him I need to get some sleep. He tells me he loves me and I tell him right back. We hang up and I set the alarm on my phone before plugging it into my charger beside the nightstand.
Snuggling down into my covers, I think about Ben and Zack. I never knew my mother, since she died while having me. I’ve heard stories about her and seen lots of pictures, but it’s a very pale substitute. Ben’s pretty young, and I wonder how much he’ll actually remember of his mom. I know Zack tries to keep her memory alive and well. Her pictures are all over the house and he talks about her to Ben quite a bit.
It will do him good.
—
After washing my face, brushing my teeth, and putting my pajamas on, I pull back the covers of my bed—which is so deliciously comfortable that I think I could spend most of my life in it—grab my cellphone off the nightstand, and call my daddy. “Hey, pumpkin,” he drawls as soon as he answers. His voice is strong and clear, so he hasn’t been drinking today. Robert Francis isn’t a complete drunk, but when he gets depressed, he hits the bottle hard. “Hey, Daddy,” I say, and I can’t help that my voice goes all girly and sweet when I talk to him. He may have been absent emotionally at times when I was growing up, but he was always by my side and supporting me when it truly counted. He’s my daddy, and in some ways, I’m still his little girl.
I grew up fast, and that meant I started to understand at an early age that grief can create the worst sort of demons for a person to battle. I accepted that, and although it made me sad to see my daddy so sad, it didn’t make me love him any less.
Nope. Made me love him and cherish him more. Made me work hard to bring smiles to his worn face.
“So how’s the new job going? All settled in?” he asks, and I can just envision him sitting in his old brown Naugahyde recliner.
“Yup. Everything’s great,” I say as I snuggle down into my pillows. “Oh, and you should see this little boy, Ben. He’s adorable and witty, and he thinks I’m just the most hilarious thing ever.”
“You are the most hilarious thing ever,” my daddy says with a laugh. “Kelly’s three boys think the sun rises and sets on you.”
“And speaking of which…how are Kelly and the boys doing? I called her a few times this week, but she hasn’t called me back.”
My dad makes a chuffing noise of disappointment. “She’s moved in with some guy that lives over in Rose Hill. Says she’s in love.”
“Again?” I ask drily.
“Again,” he confirms with a sigh. “But she’s got her a job at some little mom-and-pop convenience store out in the country. Seems happy.”
“That’s good,” I say with a smile. “And Thomas?”
My brother, Thomas, is serving an eighteen-month stint in prison for drug possession. It’s his second time in the pokey, and I expect he’s going to be nothing more than a career offender. He’s five years older than me and left home when he was sixteen, so I’m not very close to him. Daddy goes to visit Thomas in prison, but Kelly and I don’t have much contact with him.
“He seems to be doing fine. He’s safe,” he says sadly.
“That’s good,” I say softly, wishing I could give my daddy a hug right now. He carries a lot of burden on his shoulders, and I know one that eats at him is his potential failure as a father after my mother died. He feels like Thomas’s drug issues and Kelly getting pregnant so young are solely his fault. He doesn’t place any blame on their doorstep, which is wrong, in my opinion.
Clearing his throat, my dad says, “You make me so proud, Roberta.”
“Kate,” I say with exasperation, which causes him to chuckle. He intentionally calls me by my first name to poke at me.
“You ashamed of your name?” he asks with mock offense.
“Not when I’m a seventy-year-old granny sitting on my front porch knitting an afghan while surrounded by my grandchildren,” I tell him with a snort. “But in my younger years, I think I’ll stick to Kate.”
He lets out a bark of a laugh followed by a smattering of chuckles. “A father couldn’t ask for more than what you’ve given me, Kate. You are something else.”
“I get it all from you,” I tell him hoarsely. My father was never stingy on handing out warm sentiments to me, but they still get me choked up every time.
“I hate that you don’t want to go to your graduation,” he says with a slightly bitter voice. “I would have bought that cap and gown for you. Would have loved to see you graduate.”
“It’s just a ceremony, Daddy,” I say gently. Truth be told, it’s killing me not to be able to walk the stage with my classmates, but I couldn’t see spending that money, and I wasn’t about to let my daddy pay for it. Not when he lives hand to mouth most of the time because of his spotty work history.
“It was the most important thing in your life and mine as well,” he grumbles.
“Well, the diploma is going to come to your house, so keep it safe for me. We’ll frame it one day and have a grand old party when we do. We’ll sit out on the porch and eat boiled peanuts and drink birch beer to celebrate. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds mighty fine,” my dad says, and everything is good once again.
We talk for a bit more, but when I give a big yawn into the phone, I regretfully tell him I need to get some sleep. He tells me he loves me and I tell him right back. We hang up and I set the alarm on my phone before plugging it into my charger beside the nightstand.
Snuggling down into my covers, I think about Ben and Zack. I never knew my mother, since she died while having me. I’ve heard stories about her and seen lots of pictures, but it’s a very pale substitute. Ben’s pretty young, and I wonder how much he’ll actually remember of his mom. I know Zack tries to keep her memory alive and well. Her pictures are all over the house and he talks about her to Ben quite a bit.
