Home > My Girl

My Girl
Author: S. Cole

“ARE WE GONNA go see Daddy?”

I could never tire of that three-year-old voice. It was the sweetest thing I had ever heard. I often wondered if I would ever love another human as much as I loved her.

I lifted her out of her car seat and put her down on the ground. Her little fingers wrapped around one of mine. She looked up at me with such excitement, such eagerness. Strands of her wispy blonde hair framed her cherubic face. My lips matched hers in a beaming grin.

“Yes, sweet girl. Daddy’s right inside.”

She did this little jump, still holding tightly onto my finger. Her pigtails bounced along with her.

“Hooray!” she squealed.

“He’s going to be so excited to see you.” I slipped my finger out of her grip and bent down, placing a small peck on one of her rosy cheeks. “I’ve got to get the groceries out of the trunk. Can you stand still, right here, for me?”

“Yes, Mommy.” She squeezed onto her stuffed fox tightly.

“Okay. That’s Mommy’s little sweetheart.” I stood up and walked to the back of the car.

When I came back around, Stassi was still in place, exactly where I had asked her to stay. Her fox, however, was on the ground by her feet. One of her small little fingers was playing with her bottom lip as she stared straight ahead into the woods behind the house. I looked where I guessed she was staring and saw nothing.

“What is it, Stassi?”

She giggled in response. She didn’t budge from where her feet were planted.

“Stass? What are you looking at sweetie?”

She giggled again. It was softer this time, almost an unsure laugh. I placed my free arm on her back and continued to try and find what she was seeing.

“He funny, Mommy.” I noticed her cheeks lift from what I could assume was a small smile.

“What was that, honey?”

“Dad funny.”

I looked from her face back to the woods. The sun was shining bright, but I was sure I could see all of the green she was seeing. There was nothing and there was no one in front of us. Just our house. Still. Silent.

“Who’s funny?”

Stassi laughed louder than I had ever heard her laugh. She pointed straight ahead. Her little head cocked back as she got a chuckle out of whoever she thought she could see.

“Oh man. What joke did I miss?” my husband yelled from the front porch. His hands were on his hips and that gorgeous grin was plastered on his face. His blonde hair barely waved in the cool summer breeze, but I could see it moving ever so slightly.

Stassi immediately stopped laughing. “Daddy!” she yelled. Her little legs bent at the knees like she was getting ready for take-off. She ran as fast as she could manage over to her dad.

He took his hands off his hips and got down on one knee, opening his arms, waiting for Stassi to make it to him. She slowed down once she made it to the steps and climbed them one by one. Once she made it to the top, she fell into her father’s embrace and he squeezed her tight, kissing the top of her head.

The sight warmed my heart. He grabbed her little hand as he stood. “Do you need any help, babe?” he hollered out to me.

“No, I’ve got it,” I shouted back. “We didn’t get much.”

I had almost completely forgotten about the funny man in the woods until I tripped over Stassi’s stuffed fox. I bent down to pick it up and again looked at the woods behind our home.

Nothing.

Stassi and her dad had already gone inside by the time I reached the steps. That’s when I heard it. A giggle. It was quiet, but it wove itself into the wind, whispering into my ear. I looked behind the house one more time and there he was. The shadow that had been in the upstairs window of the vacant townhome all those years ago, the figure that had stood in my doorway the first night my dad searched my room for monsters. He was there. He suddenly waved.

And then he was gone.

 

 

I SHOOK MY head as I tried to erase the images of that day thirteen years ago. As I drove down the road, gravel crunching beneath the tires, I watched my daughter sitting in the backseat through the rearview mirror. We were moving again. To a new place. To a new home.

My husband left us years ago. I guess that wouldn’t make him my husband anymore, would it? Stassi was only five at the time. Though she barely remembers her father, her heart still aches for him. It beats every day searching for a man to love. A man to love her

When Stassi turned seven, I decided we needed to start traveling. I had to take her away from the past. We were running. Running from the ugly that had haunted me since I was a young girl. The scary thing that hid in the dark. Hiding for years, until that day, thirteen years ago, when it decided to show its presence again. With just a giggle and a wave.

Every year since, we’ve lived in a new town. We’ve been in apartments and lofts, mobile homes and hotels. We’ve seen deserts and waterfalls. Bright lights and dim ones. I’ve taken her to several states, different cities. She’s seen it all. Together, running away, we’ve experienced life. The thing that threatened to break us had left us alone. Hidden again, hopefully to never return.

Nine years after we began our trek to see the world, we were finally going to settle into a home. A house. In a neighborhood. Like a normal family. I wanted Stassi to have a place to return to when she set out on her own adventure. A place to set her roots down. The long roots that dangled from her back, that drug from the heels of her feet, they bore thorns and flowers. Beautiful, gorgeous, alluring flowers. Sharp, ugly, unprepossessing thorns. She needed a home.

She insisted on riding in the back with all of her things. Her tattered suitcases, along with some of my own, were seated next to her on the worn cloth seats. She wasn’t paying me any attention, as I looked back at her through the mirror. She was too busy being a typical teenager, playing on her phone. Her blonde hair seemed to glow from the sun shining in through the windows. Wisps of it still framing her face. Her warm blue eyes hid beneath her black, round sunglasses.

My eyes returned to the road as I made my way into the neighborhood. One, two, three-story houses lined the streets. The mailboxes were perfect, the fences surrounding the backyards were pristine. The neighbors smiled as I drove past them. It was odd having people take time away from watering their plants or mowing their lawns or walking their dogs to stop and turn and look and wave.

It was that southern hospitality I had grown up with.

The sun was shining, and I had my window rolled down. I let my arm hang out of the window and the warm summer breeze skated over my freckled skin, blew my auburn hair into the wind, and tickled between my fingers.

I looked back at Stassi again to see if she noticed the friendly faces we were passing. She didn’t of course. She was still on her phone, her fingers moved swiftly over the screen.

“Stassi?” I cooed. “We’re here.”

“Cool.” Her raspy voice croaked.

She reached down into the cup holder in front of her and grabbed her untouched water bottle. She unscrewed the top and took a few sips before returning it to the holder. She glanced up and finally noticed me looking at her. I couldn’t see her eyes behind the dark circles, but I knew she was staring at me too. She formed her mouth into a tight-lipped smile and crossed her arms before looking out of the window.

I smiled and shook my head slightly as I made the right turn into the driveway. Tux barked next to me. I looked over at him in the seat. His tail was wagging furiously, and his tongue hung out of his mouth. I rubbed the top of his black and white head and he twisted his neck to lick my hand.

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