In the blink of an eye, we were back living at Granny’s house. I didn’t understand what was going on because Dad didn’t come with us. I wanted my Daddy! What can I say? I was a bit of a spoiled Daddy’s girl. I clearly remember one night in particular that rocked my world. It truly altered my perception of people.
I was young. Probably about six years old. I was crying and crying for Dad. I guess you can say I was throwing a fit. Mom was so frustrated with me. She was tired of hearing me cry for him. I could see she was angry, but I didn’t know why.
But that woman, was like the perfect mix of whiskey and Holy Water. If there was ever a way to describe her personality. It was strong like whiskey and could burn coming in. She could rip you to shreds if she needed to. And yet, she could bring a sense of peace that was almost palpable. It radiated and seemed to breathe a life of its own. She could burn you down and she could protect you from everything. At the same time if she wanted to! It was so confusing.
Mom was getting ready to go out. This had become a regular thing since her and Dad separated. I just wanted my daddy. I missed the familiarity and security of our house in Loreauville. I missed my bed, my room, my swing outside. My whole life was changing.
“Mom I just want Daddy!” I choked out through uncontrollable sobs. I gasped and gulped trying to fill my lungs with air to say it again. I had been screaming this for what felt like hours. My eyes were puffy and face filled with red splotches from crying.
As she stalked towards the front door she yelled back, “Shut up Kylie Anne that’s enough! I don’t know why you’re still crying. He’s not your Daddy, anyway!” And with that she slammed the door. Slamming it hard enough that my heart and soul shattered with it.
I just froze for a second. “What does that mean? Why did she say that? That’s my Daddy!” Granny came to me and just hugged me. Letting me know that everything was going to be ok. I don’t remember exact words. Things just sort-of blurred together. At some point, she had made a phone call. Mom was still gone. She was out partying and doing her thing. She was going through a divorce for goodness sake. That’s pretty world rocking.
Later that night my Dad came. “Finally! Somebody listened to me and called my Daddy.” He brought me outside on Granny’s front porch. This was different. We would usually go to his house. We sat in the plastic chairs and he held my hand.
I searched his face for that familiar playful look. It wasn’t there. It was dark outside, but there was just enough light to see each other. The bump on his throat rose and fell as he swallowed hard. I watched as he took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. With wet eyes, he went on to tell me that it was true. That he wasn’t really my dad. The first seed was planted and watered by the tears that fell from my Dad’s cheeks. Trust no one. Nobody is who they seem.