Chapter 3.
The house was now warmer, but in a bad way. Everything was overheating and both faces became very red. She was embarrassed by her question. He was embarrassed by letting her write into that story. He had seen a lot in his time. And known his child to be up to something. Every individual always was. He wasn’t watching tv anymore really even though it remained on. He was trying to find the words for her. Going to her room would mean he was serious about the question. So he wouldn’t do that. He had to let the house cool down and take a new shape over the next few days. To even mention it would mean he cared too much about her sophomoric ideas. What did she expect him to say? Why had she asked that? She was growing up too fast. He just didn’t know to what effect. And it was only morning.
She remained in her room all morning. Then he cooked an awkward lunch. And they both ate in separate rooms of the house. His daughter was growing up and learning complex emotions. And she was a writer and quiet like the person he once knew. But she was so protective of him in asking that question. The rooms got suddenly quiet and the single tear shed was known between both parties. In just two more hours, she was going back to her moms. Even in this new off rhythm that he was unfamiliar toward, she would go into another world and see things from a deciphering modality. What would become of the woman he loved? Would she be able to take such pressing questions? She leveled him with one big one after knocking on some comfortable doors. When did she decide to grow up all of a sudden? He had to call to warn her.
“Hey, how you doing? Yeah, everything’s fine. Just letting you know, she’s to be picked up at four. And uh, yeah…” He got quiet.
“Yeah, no. Everything’s alright. You’ll see. There’s just been a change.” He paused, listening. “You know, one day she wakes up and is six, the next day twelve, well, now she’s definitely however old she is.” He got quiet. “Yes, I know how old my daughter is. I’m just sayin’. Good luck. This is new. I’ll see you later.” Then he hung up the phone.
She overheard him talking a little. And she laughed. She kind of knew he wasn’t being too quiet or subtle on purpose. The house lightened up a bit and she ran into the living room and jumped on her father’s lap. Then she asked him another question.
“Am I still your big girl?” He then laughed.
“Of course sweetie. Gettin’ big alright.”
“Hey!”
“You know I’m kidding. How was breaklunch? Feels like you enjoyed every bite. I heard you go into the kitchen and get seconds.”
“Did not! I was washing my dish!”
“Oh yeah. Hey you know your mom’s coming to get you at four. You better ask her some tough questions young lady. Don’t pick on me so much.”
“I wasn’t picking on you. I just don’t know how guys operate.”
“Me neither.” He took a sip of something sweet then threw her off him onto the couch. “You would like a fight huh? Put em’ up. Put em’ up.” Then he tussled her hair and roughed her up a bit in a fatherly way.
“I’ll ask her if she still loves.”
“Ah, there ya go.”
“Right in front of him.”
“Ooo, you better not.” To his better judgement, she was just laughing falling back into the couch cushions.
Realistic Fiction
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