that my time is short, I’m reminding you. I have no other options. I need Dad’s promise to raise Isabella. I know he’s not the world’s greatest father, but at least he won’t abuse her and will provide for her physical needs. I need to get my ducks in a row now. I have to tell him.”
When she started coughing again, I walked back through the kitchen and descended the stairs. Unlike the ones leading to the second floor, more than just the last step of these creaked. Every other one squalled under my weight. The sound was familiar and comforting. I had long ago memorized which ones would shriek and which would merely groan as my weight passed over them.
A wave of soft music met me at the bottom. It was a song that stopped my heart. “Sea of Love.” It was her song, or rather, theirs. The song my parents danced to at their prom, then wedding. The song my father softly hummed over my mother’s casket as he leaned in to kiss her one last time.
My insides knotted as I remembered today’s date. July 10—the sixth anniversary of my mother’s death.
I crept toward the studio door, which stood open just a crack, and peeked in. A portable CD player sat upon a rustic wooden shelf, serenading my father with the mournful tune.
He had his back turned to me, and I could clearly see the canvas he was painting on. The portrait was amateurish at best. If he hadn’t made the woman’s dress lavender, I might not have known it was her. Lavender had been my mother’s favorite and the color of the dress we buried her in. Seeing my father mourn her anew flooded me with crude emotion. Grief tore at my heart like barbed wire. Why did she have to leave us? It made everything that was right in our family wrong.
The steps creaked behind me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off my father long enough to turn around and look. Craig whispered my name, but I didn’t answer. His hands turned me around. I hadn’t realized I’d been crying until he wiped the tears from my face. My shoulders trembled as he pulled me to him. There was solace in feeling his chest rise and fall against my cheek and his strong arm wrap around my shoulders. He smelled of pine and hard work, and that too comforted me somehow.
When I pulled away, I caught a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“I’m sorry you’re sorry.” He drew me against him once again and held me.
I patted his back twice to replace any notion of romance with one of friendship, then stepped backward. “Why aren’t you at work?” I glanced at my father through the cracked door. He continued on, either oblivious to our presence or ignoring us.
Craig ran a hand through his hair, making it spike. “I know today’s a hard one for your dad. I just popped in to check on him.”
Craig’s remembering the anniversary only served to make me feel worse for forgetting it. He rubbed his neck and peeked in at my father. “At least this year he got out of bed.”
It seemed strange to me that this man who had been a mere acquaintance of mine would now be so intimately connected to my family, so intimately connected to me. It struck me as more than a little odd that while most people our age had left home or were anxious to, Craig would take up residence with my family. Curiosity got the best of me. I had to know what his deal was. Besides, I told myself, he might stick around awhile. I needed to learn more about him for my daughter’s sake. “Have you got time for a cup of coffee?” I asked.
He seemed taken aback by my question and threw a glance at his watch. “I’ve got at least three hours’ more work to do on this job. I promised I’d have it wrapped up today. How about if I take you and Bella to dinner when I finish?”
“Make it pizza at Chuck E. Cheese’s and you’ve got a deal,” I said.
He slapped a hand over his heart as though he’d been shot. “Only for you would I agree to that torture. I’ll warn the old lady she doesn’t need to
When she started coughing again, I walked back through the kitchen and descended the stairs. Unlike the ones leading to the second floor, more than just the last step of these creaked. Every other one squalled under my weight. The sound was familiar and comforting. I had long ago memorized which ones would shriek and which would merely groan as my weight passed over them.
A wave of soft music met me at the bottom. It was a song that stopped my heart. “Sea of Love.” It was her song, or rather, theirs. The song my parents danced to at their prom, then wedding. The song my father softly hummed over my mother’s casket as he leaned in to kiss her one last time.
My insides knotted as I remembered today’s date. July 10—the sixth anniversary of my mother’s death.
I crept toward the studio door, which stood open just a crack, and peeked in. A portable CD player sat upon a rustic wooden shelf, serenading my father with the mournful tune.
He had his back turned to me, and I could clearly see the canvas he was painting on. The portrait was amateurish at best. If he hadn’t made the woman’s dress lavender, I might not have known it was her. Lavender had been my mother’s favorite and the color of the dress we buried her in. Seeing my father mourn her anew flooded me with crude emotion. Grief tore at my heart like barbed wire. Why did she have to leave us? It made everything that was right in our family wrong.
The steps creaked behind me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off my father long enough to turn around and look. Craig whispered my name, but I didn’t answer. His hands turned me around. I hadn’t realized I’d been crying until he wiped the tears from my face. My shoulders trembled as he pulled me to him. There was solace in feeling his chest rise and fall against my cheek and his strong arm wrap around my shoulders. He smelled of pine and hard work, and that too comforted me somehow.
When I pulled away, I caught a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“I’m sorry you’re sorry.” He drew me against him once again and held me.
I patted his back twice to replace any notion of romance with one of friendship, then stepped backward. “Why aren’t you at work?” I glanced at my father through the cracked door. He continued on, either oblivious to our presence or ignoring us.
Craig ran a hand through his hair, making it spike. “I know today’s a hard one for your dad. I just popped in to check on him.”
Craig’s remembering the anniversary only served to make me feel worse for forgetting it. He rubbed his neck and peeked in at my father. “At least this year he got out of bed.”
It seemed strange to me that this man who had been a mere acquaintance of mine would now be so intimately connected to my family, so intimately connected to me. It struck me as more than a little odd that while most people our age had left home or were anxious to, Craig would take up residence with my family. Curiosity got the best of me. I had to know what his deal was. Besides, I told myself, he might stick around awhile. I needed to learn more about him for my daughter’s sake. “Have you got time for a cup of coffee?” I asked.
He seemed taken aback by my question and threw a glance at his watch. “I’ve got at least three hours’ more work to do on this job. I promised I’d have it wrapped up today. How about if I take you and Bella to dinner when I finish?”
“Make it pizza at Chuck E. Cheese’s and you’ve got a deal,” I said.
He slapped a hand over his heart as though he’d been shot. “Only for you would I agree to that torture. I’ll warn the old lady she doesn’t need to
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