CHAPTER EIGHT
Tabitha
As I set the timer so the Christmas tree will come on the moment it’s dark enough, I hear the door open. “Daddy!” I squeal. I run out of the living room and down the short hallway to the front door. He laughs at my enthusiasm as I throw my arms around him and say, “You’re home! You’re home!”
“Well,” he says, “How long has it been since you moved in?”
“Um… I think five months.”
“Just about,” he replies. “And you still jump up and run to me whenever I get home.”
I giggle and say, “And I will even after I’ve lived here for five years.”
He kisses me and says, “Get your shoes on, little girl. I think I’m going to take you to dinner.”
I nod eagerly and run out of the hallway but then I run my back. I grab his hand and say, “I want to show you something first, Daddy!”
I pull him along. He chuckles as I do and when we get to the living room, I shout, “Ta daaaaaah!”
He stops chuckling and says, “You put up the tree. Very nice, little girl.” It doesn’t seem like he thinks it’s very nice.
I say, “Don’t you like it, Daddy?”
“It’s beautiful, little girl,” he says. He pulls me close and kisses me. “I’m just very, very, very hungry and if we don’t hurry, I’m afraid I might have to eat you up!”
I giggle and say, “I’ll go get my shoes on, Daddy!” I wiggle away from him and run to the shoe rack by the door. I run back and slip my tennis shoes on and then leap up. “It’s new super speed record! The crowd goes wild!” I make a sound like applause and he smiles but something still seems off. “Are you sure you’re okay, Daddy?” I ask.
“I’m fine, beautiful little girl. Let’s go.”
I’m not convinced but I get up and run over to him and grab his hand. We leave the house and soon we’re in the car. There’s a radio commercial about a Spanish restaurant and he says, “That’s where I thought I’d take you, little girl.”
“Oooh! I’ve never had Spanish food, Daddy!” I say, “I mean, unless it’s like Mexican food.”
“Nope,” he says. “It’s different. A little like Italian and French but…” He shakes his head and says, “Not really. It’s European but you’ll see when we get there.”
“Okay, Daddy!” I say. The commercial ends and I sit up straight when I hear the song that starts.
I’m just about to sing along when he reaches forward and turns off the radio. “Man,” he says. “Already? It’s not even December yet.” It’s November 30th but I don’t think I should mention it.
“We don’t have to listen to Christmas music, Daddy,” I say.
He sighs and says, “Thank you, little girl.”
“Daddy?” I ask.
“Yeah?”
“Is there anything I can do?”
He sighs again and then puts his hand on my thigh. “I’m sorry I seem grumpy little girl.” He laughs and makes a monster voice. “Daddy gets grumpy when he’s hungry!”
I giggle and feel a lot better. He still seems distant as we eat dinner and I grow more and more concerned. After about five times of me asking about it, he finally tells me to stop asking. I obey him but I’m really troubled by it. The rest of dinner is awkward and when we leave, even though I ate a full meal, I still can’t tell what Spanish food is like. All I can tell is that my Daddy is hurting and he won’t tell me why.
When we get home, I ask, “Will you start a fire in the fireplace for me, Daddy?”
“Fine,” he says.
I sit down on the couch and my mind gets away from me. It doesn’t take long before I’m certain he’s upset because he’s about to break up with me. I watch his load logs on the grade and then put balled up newspapers under them along with some smaller pieces of wood. I watch as he lights the paper and then adds more little pieces of wood before he’s confident the big logs are ignited.