LJ Idol: Week 2
November 13, 1993
How it could have gone:
The little girl smiles at her father, lying in the semi-darkness of his bedroom. His eyes look back at her, a little less tired than this morning, and he smiles as she sticks her tongue out at him, colored blue from the lollipop she had earlier. She giggles as she turns around and runs down the stairs to meet her friend. Nothing feels different to her. This day seemingly like every other day since her dad came home from the hospital.
Later, when her mother picks her up at her friend’s place, still nothing has changed.
Again, she runs down a flight of stairs, this time into her mum’s arms. They walk home hand in hand and the little girl tells her excitedly about the games they played, the witches’ soup they made, and the Lego castle they built. Her mother smiles at her, the tiredness around her eyes a little less prominent for just a moment as they laugh together. They have dinner, just the two of them, before they go upstairs to say goodnight to the little girl’s dad. He is dozing when she sneaks her head through the door and so she quietly walks towards the bed, not wanting to wake him.
When she presses a kiss to his forehead he stirs and opens his eyes. He lifts the blanket just a fraction and she slides in next to him, careful not to press too close and hurt him. His hands card through her hair as she tells him the same stories she just told her mum. The Lego castle isn’t even half finished when his hand stills and he falls asleep again. She stays, watching him sleep until her mother comes in to bring her to bed.
In the door the mother stops, looking between her daughter and her husband, a small smile on her face because they made it through another day. All three of them.
How it did go:
The little girl smiles at her father, lying in the semi-darkness of his bedroom. His eyes look back at her, more tired than this morning, but he smiles as she sticks her tongue out at him, colored blue from the lollipop she had earlier. She giggles as she turns around and runs down the stairs to meet her friend. Nothing feels different to her. This day seemingly like every other day since her dad came home from the hospital.
Later, when her mother picks her up at her friend’s place, everything has changed.
She stops half way down the stairs when she sees the look on her mother’s face. The last steps are taken slowly, cautiously. Her mum starts to cry when she gets all the way down, carefully built composure breaking and the little girl flings herself into her mother’s arms and holds on tight around her neck as her mum presses her close, shaking.
They walk home hand in hand in silence, both of them trying not to cry, to hold it together until they reach the safety and comfort of their house. Later that night, they sit curled up on the couch in the semi darkness of a single lamp. The girl’s head rests on her mother’s shoulder, face hidden in the side of her neck. The mother’s soothing hands drawing circles on her daughter’s back do nothing to calm either of them, their sobs loud in the quiet, too empty house.
Papa is dead.
Three words that change everything.
How it could have gone:
The little girl smiles at her father, lying in the semi-darkness of his bedroom. His eyes look back at her, a little less tired than this morning, and he smiles as she sticks her tongue out at him, colored blue from the lollipop she had earlier. She giggles as she turns around and runs down the stairs to meet her friend. Nothing feels different to her. This day seemingly like every other day since her dad came home from the hospital.
Later, when her mother picks her up at her friend’s place, still nothing has changed.
Again, she runs down a flight of stairs, this time into her mum’s arms. They walk home hand in hand and the little girl tells her excitedly about the games they played, the witches’ soup they made, and the Lego castle they built. Her mother smiles at her, the tiredness around her eyes a little less prominent for just a moment as they laugh together. They have dinner, just the two of them, before they go upstairs to say goodnight to the little girl’s dad. He is dozing when she sneaks her head through the door and so she quietly walks towards the bed, not wanting to wake him.
When she presses a kiss to his forehead he stirs and opens his eyes. He lifts the blanket just a fraction and she slides in next to him, careful not to press too close and hurt him. His hands card through her hair as she tells him the same stories she just told her mum. The Lego castle isn’t even half finished when his hand stills and he falls asleep again. She stays, watching him sleep until her mother comes in to bring her to bed.
In the door the mother stops, looking between her daughter and her husband, a small smile on her face because they made it through another day. All three of them.
How it did go:
The little girl smiles at her father, lying in the semi-darkness of his bedroom. His eyes look back at her, more tired than this morning, but he smiles as she sticks her tongue out at him, colored blue from the lollipop she had earlier. She giggles as she turns around and runs down the stairs to meet her friend. Nothing feels different to her. This day seemingly like every other day since her dad came home from the hospital.
Later, when her mother picks her up at her friend’s place, everything has changed.
She stops half way down the stairs when she sees the look on her mother’s face. The last steps are taken slowly, cautiously. Her mum starts to cry when she gets all the way down, carefully built composure breaking and the little girl flings herself into her mother’s arms and holds on tight around her neck as her mum presses her close, shaking.
They walk home hand in hand in silence, both of them trying not to cry, to hold it together until they reach the safety and comfort of their house. Later that night, they sit curled up on the couch in the semi darkness of a single lamp. The girl’s head rests on her mother’s shoulder, face hidden in the side of her neck. The mother’s soothing hands drawing circles on her daughter’s back do nothing to calm either of them, their sobs loud in the quiet, too empty house.
Papa is dead.
Three words that change everything.