Brittainy C. Cherry

Emma had loved the idea, and whenever she would find a feather, she would look up to the sky, smile, and whisper, “I love you too, Daddy.” Then she would take a picture with the feather to add to her collection of ‘Daddy and Me’ photos.

“You’re a big, fat, giant TICK!”

“Hey, Tick! Hey, Tick! Don’t cry, Tick,” Emma said, tugging on Tristan’s T-shirt. “It’s okay.”

“You love her?”

“Always. Even when I don’t like her.”

“That’s your biggest mistake.”

“What is?” I asked.

“Pretending for a second that you know any damn thing about me.”

“Hey, buddy. It’s Dad. I’m here, okay? I know I haven’t been around as much as I should’ve been, but I’m here now, okay? Dad’s here and I need you to fight for me. Can you do that, buddy?” Tears rolled from my eyes onto his cheeks as my lips rested against his forehead. “Daddy needs you to work on your breathing. We gotta get you better because I need you. I know people say that the kid needs the parent, but that’s a lie.

“I need you to keep me going. I need you to keep me believing in the world. Buddy, I need you to wake up. I can’t lose you too, okay? I need you to come back to me…please, Charlie…come back to Dad.”

“Sometimes I think the little memories are worse than the big ones. I can handle remembering his birthday or the day of his death, but remembering the little things like the way he cut the grass, or how he only read the comics in the newspaper, or how he only smoked one cigarette on New Year’s Eve…”

“Or the way she tied her shoes, or puddle jumped, or touched the palm of my hand with her pointer finger and always drew a heart…”

“You lost someone too?”

“My wife.”

Oh.

“And my son,”

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I want to make something clear to you,” he whispered harshly. Tristan blinked once before his stormy eyes reappeared. “I don’t want to be involved with you in any way, shape, or form. Okay? I cut your fucking grass because you annoyed the living shit out of me. That’s all. I want nothing to do with you again. So stop with the damn looks.”

“Everyone in this town is afraid of me. Do I scare you, Elizabeth?” he whispered, his breaths brushing against my lips.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I see you.”

Tristan was standing over me within an instant. “Shit,” he muttered. “Are you okay? Here,” he said, reaching his hand out to me.