My Ward My Woman

After the grief was spent and reality crept back in, I realized I was in deep shit. She wasn’t a doll after all; she was a living, breathing thing that needed care and lots of attention. I was ready to jump out the fucking window by week two because I was terrified that I would mess shit up.

I’d look at her little face looking up at me so hopefully. Just knowing that I was going to fix whatever it was that was bothering her at the time. My heart would melt into a puddle and I would reaffirm the promise I’d made myself, that I was going to do everything in my power to make her life a good one. Not just for her dad, but also for the little being I’d held for the first time when she was just a few minutes old.

Mom had stepped in and been a big help since I didn’t know the first thing about raising a little girl, especially one who’d been so hurt and afraid when she came to me. She’d pitched in and done mostly everything back then, but I’d drawn the line at letting my little Alex go home with her.

She was my responsibility, and I owed it to my old friend to watch over her the way he’d asked. Plus having her was like having a part of my old buddy with me always. But it hadn’t been easy.

I remember the many nights I spent sitting at her bedside holding her hand or when that didn’t work because the nightmare was too forceful, then I’d have to climb in and hold her to give her comfort. That had gone on for a solid two years I think, until it dwindled down to once every so often. Those tears used to break my heart.

I could give her everything in the world except the one thing she wanted most, her dad and stepmother. Somehow we muddled through and became our own little family unit of two. I spent weekends shepherding her around, always with her little hand clutched firmly in mine as she dragged me from one place to another.

Back then, all I had to worry about was scraped knees and wounded pride from my little tomboy. She was a fierce little thing who had to excel at everything to please her uncle Sol. I should’ve known that fighting spirit I’d taken so much pride in would come back to bite me in the ass.

2

Solomon

Sometime in the last year I’d started to notice a difference in her behavior towards me. At first she’d seemed withdrawn. She wouldn’t look me in the eye when we spoke and there were no more sneak tickle attacks when she felt I was ignoring her too long.

I suddenly realized that I hadn’t heard her cheerful laughter for some time, and that it had been a while since she came into my home office to bring me a snack late at night before going to bed. She was avoiding me.

A talk with my mother assured me, that it was just natural teenage angst. All the same I decided to keep a close eye on her just in case. She was old enough to date but as yet I hadn’t heard anything about a sweetheart, something else I was dreading once she hit puberty.

I comforted myself with the fact that my girl had a good head on her shoulders and we’d had the ‘talk’. At least I’d tried, but her red face and the lump in my throat had kinda had us both rushing from the room once the ordeal was over. Never-a-fucking- gain would I want to go through that horror show.

Even I didn’t believe my bullshit. But for a few years she believed that if she let a boy hold her hand she’d catch a debilitating disease. Until some asshole teacher taught her different and she chewed my ass out for lying to her. Her uncle Sol was perfect, which meant no fibs. She’d had me up for sainthood until about age sixteen when the battles began.

Because I was watching her so close it was easy not to miss anything. It seemed like everyday there was something else with her. If I’d known in the beginning that one little girl could turn into so much fucking trouble I would’ve hired a battalion of people to help me raise her.

She started wearing makeup for crap sake and I knew that was the beginning of the end.

Then I’d notice her day dreaming a lot with a silly half smile on her face. I started a time or two to ask her who or what had put that look on her face. But the fear of losing my precious doll to some pimple faced asshole punk kept my tongue behind my teeth.