"With My Dad" - January 14, 2016

It's first light. Here comes my dad, pulling up in his ancient station wagon. He rounds the corner and eases into the driveway, just like he used to - the headlamps on and stale in the morning pale. I can hear the mumble of the engine, the soft cadence of a familiar radio program. Dad never honked. If I was late, he came to the door. If I were on time, I'd go to meet him. Today, he stayed put... Heh, I guess he's lost in thought too... I've been recalling our earlier adventures recently - before the big move to my fiancee's. Much earlier in fact. Childhood memories. It’s been so long. Back then, I was just a scrawny little something gripping my favorite box of crayons. They were the washable kind, just in case I made a mistake. I drew a lot then & carried those washables and some paper wherever I went. We were in a mall one day, and "Daddy" (I relish the older term) had let me wander around the open play court. Back then, the mall was a sight to behold. It had thick concrete pillars and greenery potted in the corners and rotunda. The lighting was fairly dim, but nice. Kind of like a jungle. With just enough sunlight filtering through the glass canopy to add to the ambiance. There were aphids and small crawlers on the trees, but no flies or spiders, which was nice.

Anyway, we had just gotten ice cream, so I had that with me, the crayons shoved deep in one of my dungaree pockets. A little boy approached me in mid lick and wanted to try some - a stout, curly-headed blond kid. I looked over for daddy, but he wasn't around.

"Its cool," was what I found myself feeling - not thinking it, as I was just a girl then, but I had no problems with germs & stuff. I gave the kid a free lick and he said it was yummy. He asked for a few more & I obliged. He was cute. Granted, I didn't know what "cute" was either, but it felt good to share with this kid so I went with it. There were two scoops anyway. & the chocolate lump on the bottom was my favorite. I wouldn't share that one. But the vanilla one was fine. The kid pulled back from the cone with a full dollop of white on his nose. I laughed and remarked about it the way most kids do & the two of us had a good time with it. He produced a couple of jelly beans from his pocket to share as well. I took the strawberry ones. All of them. Strawberry was my favorite flavor for most fruit snacks. It was a good time. I had at least one of my drawings with me which I then decided to share, Identifying my favorite character Mindy Monroe from the lineup of characters I had hastily illustrated the night before.

The kid wanted to draw on it (naturally I'm still calling him "kid" because I never got his name). Now, the crayons were dear to me so I wasn't sure, but as I was deciding, I looked over and saw my dad, watching intently from a distant bench. Suddenly my face went hot. Didn't know what that feeling meant either, but as I saw that old familiar nod of assurance, I knew I was doing the right thing. I unpacked the whole box and let the kid figure out what he wanted to start with. He scrawled a star in the corner and a squiggly thing which he didn't get to finish. Looking over my shoulder he smiled wide at someone I couldn't see right away. Holding up the page, he shouted, "Maman, Maman! Regarde ce que j'ai fait!" What was he saying? I didn't know, but I thought it was the coolest thing ever that he could speak that way. I turned around and saw a woman in a pretty daisy print dress stalk over, wrenching the crayons and paper from his hands. The kid's face transformed in a rictus of sorrow, growing more heartbroken with each object he lost. I didn't know what to say. But in the confusion, the lady ripped my paper & left my heart broken too. I mean, sure I could always draw another picture later, but I identified with the kid, sobbing silently along with his open wails. She spoke just as strangely as he did, but her tone was fierce and vindictive. All I know was that my dad wouldn't stand for it.

"Whoa, are you doing?! They're just playing! I was here the whole time watching them!"

"I don't want my child playing here with... HER!" My dad was incredulous. Beneath a set of wide-brimmed spectacles I saw his nostrils flaring and his eyes suddenly growing fierce. He shook his head in disbelief.

"That's a horrible thing so say... What's wrong with you?!"

But the woman wouldn't hear any more... That was the last I saw of the boy and his mom. She stormed off, with some of my crayons still in her hands. I was too broken up to say anything about it, but daddy stooped down and held me in his arms till I stopped. It felt like hours - I was so hysterical, but my dad stuck with me. So kind and gentle... I loved him so much then. I still do.

Guess I'm reliving the moment a little too hard. Getting a little misty here one this olive couch. Just a few more things to grab and I'm out the door. Justin won't be back for a few days yet so today's adventure couldn't be more welcomed or anticipated. Daddy's in the car looking at something with the windows rolled up. It is a brisk morning, I guess so that's understandable. I jog up to the window and peer in. Wait, why does he look like that?

"Daddy, what happened?"

I open the door on my side and climb in. He can barely form the words, but I have a feeling it has something to do with the picture he's holding.

"Oh, daddy..."

I realize something I'm not aware of yet. I feel a pang of his hurt as I study his face & that of the woman in his palm.

"Giselle Friedman... You never knew her, baby. I met her just weeks after you moved here... was going to surprise you... b-but she just-"

"...Died..." I finished his phrase. Not knowing what more I could do, I held him tight, his stooped frame shuddering violently within that familiar tweed sweater. I could smell his aftershave, still on from the night before. I could hear his panting gasps - a sound long since expended in previous fits of grief. I held him closer and patted his graying thatch of black hair. His mocha skin taught, and especially dark against my own hands, biscuit-hued.

"It's going to be okay, daddy." I choked with some effort. "I'll stick right here with you..."