5
Murphy
Kyle and I kiss my mom goodbye and head to the airport. We arrive on time and find our seats on the plane.
“Fun, girl! We’re going to have so much fun.”
“Okay, okay, settle down. This is not a vacation.”
“Oh yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just always wanted to go to New Orleans. While you’re busy with your dad, I might go see some sights.”
Knowing he means partying, I say, “You mean like Bourbon Street and some parades since of course it’s Mardi Gras, right?”
“Only if you don’t need me, but if you do, I’ll stay with you. Whatever you need.”
“Go have fun, don’t worry about me, I barely know the man.”
Kyle doesn’t respond; he just closes his eyes and tries to get some rest. I, on the other hand, am anything but relaxed. My mind drifts back to a time when I was younger, waiting for my father to come for a visit.
“Mom, when is daddy coming?”
“He’ll be here, Murphy, don’t worry.”
I stomp my feet as I storm away from my mother to go sit on the sofa to watch cartoons. Wiping my tears away, my mind wonders why my dad’s not here, not only today, but every day? Why can’t he love me enough to stay? I see other girls with their daddies, and all I want is to be one of them. I even want to be one of the girls who only sees their fathers on the weekends.
I must have fallen asleep in my new pretty pink dress because my father wakes me up by kissing my cheek.
“Daddy!” I scream from excitement, throwing myself on him. “I’ve missed you so much, Daddy, where have you been?”
“Working, baby girl. You know that Daddy has to work. How has my girl been?”
“I’m better now that you’re here. What did you bring me, Daddy?”
Daddy and Mama laugh. “Now that’s my girl. Come see everything that I brought you.”
Every time Daddy comes, he brings me so many things. I love it, but I wish he wouldn’t have to go away to buy me things. This time, he brings me the biggest dollhouse I’ve ever seen and two giant stuffed animals; one’s a tiger, and the other is a giraffe. Then he holds a small box behind his back.
“Pick a hand, baby girl. If you pick the right one, you get the prize.”
I stand still, trying to decide which hand to pick. Finally, I pick the right hand – and bingo, I was right, but then Daddy raises his other hand, showing me another small box.
“You win, baby. Open the one you picked first, and then you can have the other one.”
I sit down and open the pretty wrapping, then I lift the top of the box; it’s a pearl necklace. I look up to my dad because it’s beautiful, but it’s for a grown-up, not me, it’s so long.
“I see that face. Let me tell you about this necklace. It was your grandmother’s, my mom. She used to always wear it and told me to give it to the girl who captures my heart. That’s you, baby girl. You are the only girl to hold my heart in your little hands. We’re going to give it to your mama so she can hold it for you till you’re old enough to wear it, okay? But don’t be sad, baby, Daddy got you something in your size.”
He hands me the other box, and again I tear the pretty wrapping and lift the top of the jewelry box. It’s a beautiful pearl bracelet.
“I love it, Daddy, so much.”
I hug him tight, then he helps me put it on while my mom scolds him.
“Murphy, you’re spoiling her.”
“Nonsense! My baby girl is eight years old today, and she needs a little jewelry.”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“Are you two ready for supper? I made reservations at our favorite restaurant, and I pre-ordered your birthday cake.”
“Let’s go, Daddy, let’s go!”
We had so much fun that night, eating and behaving like a family. I never wanted it to end.
However, the next morning I wake up to find him already sneaking off.
Moving my small legs as fast as I can, I run to him. “Daddy, please don’t go, please.” I start crying, begging him to stay.
“Listen, baby girl, you know Daddy can’t stay. I’ll come back and bring you some more presents.”
“I don’t want your presents! I want you to stay!”
“I know, I wish I could, but I can’t. I have to work. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I scream out, “NO!” I let him go and rip the pearl bracelet from my wrist. I watch as the pearls fly, all landing, bouncing on the floor everywhere. Then I run out of the room to my bedroom.
A few minutes later, my mom comes into my bedroom and tries to console me. I push her away, yelling at her.
“Why can’t you make him stay?”
“Baby, it doesn’t work that way.”
“Why, because he doesn’t love you? He loves me. Make him love you, Mom, make him. It’s all your fault he won’t stay!”
My mom starts crying, which makes me feel even worse.
“Don’t cry, Mama. I’m sorry.” I wrap my small arms around her neck. “Mama, I’m sorry, please don’t cry.”
“Mama’s sorry, baby. You know Daddy really does love you. I wish I could make him stay for you, but I can’t.”
We both cry together until we fall back to sleep in my princess bed.
My thoughts come back to reality as I wipe a single tear from my cheek. I haven’t shed a tear for my memories of my father in a long time. I always found a way to blame my mother for his absence, but it wasn’t ever her fault, and it took me years to figure that out. My visits with my father remained that way until they stopped altogether.