“What would you like to do today?” I asked.
Blithe stared at me with her icy blue eyes, but she didn’t answer me. Marlie and I had successfully moved all of her stuff in here while she was napping the other day, and then I listened in as Marlie explained to the little girl what was happening.
Marlie told Blithe that I was her father and that I wanted to spend some time with her, and that I was going to take really good care of her. I could still picture the fear in Blithe’s eyes as she drifted off to sleep in her mother’s arms, and the confusion written all over her features when she woke up and saw her mother was no longer there.
“Mommy?” Blithe asked.
It ached my heart that she wouldn’t let me in, but it killed my soul that she kept asking for Marlie.
“Mom’s gone for a little bit, but I promise you’ll be safe here,” I said.
“Is Mommy okay?” Blithe asked.
I wasn’t sure how to answer that. How much had Marlie talked Blithe through? Blithe knew her mother was sick, but I wasn’t sure if she knew just how serious it was.
In the whirlwind of moving her things in and trying to carve out a space for her in my cabin, it didn’t occur to me to get the finer details on that. I was too preoccupied with scanning the notebook she left me and organizing all the documents on Blithe. I hadn’t really taken the time to ask Marlie anything.
“Mommy’s not feeling very well,” I said. “So, I’m going to take care of you for now.”
“Until Mommy gets better?” Blithe asked.
Holy fuck, this was going to be much harder than I imagined.
“No matter what happens, you will always have me, okay?” I asked.
I watched Blithe lower her eyes into her lap as she played with the ruffles on her dress.
“Would you like to go to the playground?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Are you hungry? There’s a place in town that has great milkshakes.”
Again, Blithe just shook her head.
“Are you tired? Would you like a nap?”
The little sniffle that came from underneath the ringlet curls covering her face broke a part of me.
“Would you like me to leave you alone?” I asked.
Finally, I got her to nod.
I got up and grabbed one of her blankets. I found her stuffed rabbit, and then I reached for the stack of movies Marlie had left with me. They were all Blithe’s favorites.
“I’ve got your blanket and your rabbit.”
“Buddy,” she said.
“That his name?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, your blanket and Buddy,” I said.
“Thanks.”
She curled up on the couch with her blanket and tucked Buddy underneath her cheek. Then I pulled out a DVD with the name ‘Inspector Gadget’ written on it.
“You wanna watch this one?” I asked.
She shrugged. I stuck it in the player and got the show playing before I left her alone. I walked up into the loft I was clearing out for her bedroom and started rearranging everything. I shoved my mattress down the metal staircase to make room for the bed I had ordered for her.
I started putting together the three-drawer dresser I’d picked up in a store, hoping it would give her a place she felt she could store her things. I peeked over the loft railing every now and again to check on her, just to make sure she wasn’t in too much distress and alone.
I understood that she needed space, but I wasn’t going to allow my daughter to cry by herself.
Eventually, she fell asleep. I could hear her light snores coming from the couch, and the sound made me smile. I continued to organize her stuff, making the lofted part of my cabin as nice as I could. I had a corner for all her toys and a separate corner that housed her art desk.
I put her clothes in the dresser drawer after I finished putting it together. I even took her toiletries and arranged them in the bathroom so she could reach them.
I wanted to make this space as much hers as it was mine. I wanted it to be obvious that this was her home, too. I wanted her to know that her stuff was welcome so that she would know she was welcome here, too.
A shrill cry caught my attention, and I sprinted back into the living room.
“Blithe?” I asked. “Are you all right?”
The little girl was crying in her sleep. She cried out with her hands in the air. Her eyes were shut, and her body was mostly still, but she was obviously in distress. I sat on the edge of the couch and gathered her in my arms, holding her as she rode out her night terror. My tears rained down on her soft little cheeks as I pulled her into my chest.
Not knowing what else to do, I sang to her. “You are my daughter, my only daughter. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know, Blithe, how much I love you. Please don’t take my daughter away.”
I sang into her hair as she pushed against my body. My arms wrapped tightly around her, and I could feel her waking up. I sang her the song my mother always sang to me whenever I got upset at night, and whenever I battled my own nightmares and woke up frightened and alone.
Hearing my mother’s voice always brought me reassurance, and I hoped, eventually, I could do the same with my daughter. With Blithe.
“Mommy’s gone,” Blithe said as she cried into my chest. “Mommy’s not back.”
“I’m so sorry, Blithe,” I said as tears choked my throat. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”
“Mommy’s sick, and Mommy’s gone.”
So she did know about her mother’s condition.
“I promise you, I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of you,” I said.
“Why Mommy?” she asked.
I felt Blithe shift against my body as her cheek made its way to my shoulder. She laid her head down onto me and forced her forehead up underneath my cheek. I laid my skin gently upon hers as her legs locked around me, her arms holding onto my shirt as her breathing began to even out. I could feel her tears wetting my skin as she sniffled into my ear, tears a four-year-old should never cry because of a pain she should never understand.
“I don’t know, Blithe,” I said. “I don’t know why Mommy. But I do know why she brought you to me.”
“Why?” Blithe asked.
I looked down into the eyes of my little girl and saw her fear reflected back at me. I saw my bold features strewn across her face, accented by the gentle features of her mother. Like how her nose crinkled as she cried and how her cheeks reddened at the slightest exertion.
She might look like me, but she had the emotional disposition of her mother.
“Because your mother knew I could take care of you. Because your mother knew I could love you. I’m your daddy, Blithe, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure you have everything you need.”
Her head settled back onto my shoulder, and I leaned into the couch cushions. I figured she would scramble away from me and wrap herself up in her blanket, maybe dive for her stuffed bunny and go sit in another chair. I rubbed the back of my small, frail daughter, and instead of getting off me like I thought she would, she reached down for her blanket and pulled it over us both.
She nestled into me, and I looked down at her. Her eyes were glued to the television screen, but they quickly grew heavy again. I rubbed her back until she fell asleep. One hand was clutching my shirt while the other hand was clutching Buddy, and I stayed rooted to the couch so Blithe could take the restful nap she deserved.
Because she deserved better than what my father had given me.