Daddy

Daddy

He was a genius, a creative mastermind.  At least that is what they said.  Various certificates and awards hung in gleaming frames on the walls in his study attesting to that fact, but to Briana, her father was so much more.

She padded toward his office, her bare feet rustling against the carpet with every step.  A thin sliver of light spilled from his study, illuminating the hall in a welcoming glow.  It was there that she stood with her worn teddy bear, George, in hand, as she watched her father work.

He sat behind the massive desk, his handsome face twisted in concentration as he poured over his latest work of art.  Briana rested her palm against the heavy barrier between them, wanting to press forward, but knowing he would not appreciate the interruption.  Her fingers worried the smooth wood as she watched Pepper hop onto her father’s desk and stretch beneath his chin.  He stopped working long enough to appease the cat’s need for affection and brush away the bushy tail curled around his face.

Briana watched, her heart aching as a smile crossed her father’s lips.  He leaned back in his chair with a chuckle, allowing the cat access to his lap.  She couldn’t remember the last time he allowed her to snuggle in his arms.  The warm smell of Old Spice and shaving cream were little more than a distant memory.

“What is it, Pepper?  Is my baby feeling lonely?  Did you miss me today?”

George’s stuffing gave a soft whoosh of air as Bri clutched him tight against her, as if that could somehow fill the aching void in her chest.  She tried to pretend those soothing croons were for her, but it wasn’t enough.  Her chin trembled with her efforts not to cry.  She had to turn away for a moment to ease the pain.  Scrunching her face into a grimace, she shook her head and choked back a sob.

Why could he not see how much she loved him?  He was everything in her eyes.  Yet, no matter how hard she looked, she could never see herself reflected in the dark pools of his.  It was as if she didn’t even exist.  He was always too busy, too tired, too pressed for time, or he just plain forgot all the promises he made.

She opened her eyes to watch him wave the tip of his pen back and forth while Pepper made halfhearted attempts to swat it out of his hands.  His deep laughter rang through the hall and echoed in the empty corridors of her heart.  She could remember a time when that laughter had been for her, a time when Daddy would read her bedtime stories or sing off-key lullabies.  The thought almost brought a smile to her face.  Anyone who knew her father said he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.  Those days were long gone, but she would give anything to have them back.  Even if for only one night.

She pressed her cheek against the top of George’s head, seeking comfort in the velvety warmth.  Her weight shifted from one foot to the other as she watched her father work around Pepper’s contented form and dive back into business.  Several long minutes passed with her trying to muster up enough courage to knock.

He didn’t look up from his desk.  Instead, his broad shoulders lifted in a sigh.  When he spoke, his voice sounded strained.  “What is it, Briana?”

She drew her lower lip into her mouth.  Her teeth sank into the soft swell as her mind scrambled for a way to bridge the distance between them.  “How was your dinner meeting, Daddy?”

“Fine.”

He sounded so far away.  She ached for his gaze to reach her, to see it fill with the same happy pride he had around the cat or his friends.  Instead, he remained hunched over his desk, his eyes trained on the laptop in front of him.  Gentle clicks filled the silence in rapid succession, but to her, each one sounded like a gunshot.

“It’s getting late, Bri.  Go brush your teeth.”

Her father didn’t see the wince cross her features, or her green eyes flood with tears.  He didn’t see anything but his quest for more success, more knowledge.  He always told her a person’s worth was measured by their education and success.  Was that it?  Were the A’s she brought home not enough?

Briana swallowed against the hard lump wedged in her throat.  Her fingers dug deep into George’s stuffing.  She clung to the bear with savage strength and offered the only thing she had left that might interest her father.  “I wrote you a poem today.”

Now his head lifted.  He swiped an agitated hand through the silver planes of his hair.  His dark eyes swung up from his desk and bore into her like two hard drills.  They didn’t welcome.  They wounded.  “What did I just say?  I’m trying to get some work done here.  The bills don’t pay themselves, Briana, and toys don’t magically appear on your shelves.  Get some sleep.  I’ll read it in the morning.  I promise.”

The last shard of her heart fell and shattered inside her.  She drew a shaky breath and nodded in obedience.  He wouldn’t read it.  It would be forgotten in the Monday morning bustle, just like all the times he promised to take her to lunch or dinner, or spend an afternoon playing.

Backing away from the door, she made the long journey to her bedroom alone.  Tears splashed against George’s head, joining the many others that had fallen there and dried.  Her fingers rubbed a furious rhythm against his ear, a spot that was now threadbare.

Her gaze swept over the cheerful sprawl of her room.  It sought out each and every toy, all gifts from her father.  Replacements for the one thing she wanted the most in life, him.  The void left when her mother died threatened to swallow her whole on nights like this. 

Bri set George down on her bed, planting a soft kiss on her companion’s nose.  He was all she had while her father spent countless hours working or quenching his endless hunger for more.  Why?  Because she wasn’t enough?  Her room, decorated in pink, white, and frilly lace, was fit for a princess … the princess she longed to be in her father’s eyes.

She grabbed a crayon off her desk and turned to the calendar on her wall.  Her hand lingered in the air for a moment before she drew a shaky X through the box marked with a red heart.  Beneath the rough drawing two simple words stared back at her and filled her heart with unspeakable longing.

Father’s Day.

It is possible to store the mind with a million facts and still be uneducated.
~Alec Bourne




Word Count~1130 (without quote)

Written for:

1207944

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