Mafia Guard Loves the Daughter

3.5

3.5

Parent Singularity

Rami

I always had this dream when I was young; I wanted to be the best daughter. I didn’t care much about the husband part, because all I had was my father. It was always just him and I. He'd pick me up from school and we didn’t have a car, so he'd walk to my school, and I would stand on the curb waiting for him, pretending that we did have one.

Because he loves cars.

We didn’t mind the names they called us. The R word suddenly became something pitiable, but my father didn’t want to deny the fact that we had a home out there, and it was no longer safe for any of us to stay.

We would walk, hand in hand. Conscious of the difference between this place and the one we ran away from. I don’t remember much of that place. I was so young when we were forced to find shelter. But father would always remind me of the heat, the palm trees swaying in the sand, and the sweet figs that drip from your chin.

Many of them were too fantastical. But most of them were meaningful to my father as he told stories in our language, laying it out with his hands and his words as he did so. He never became sad or despondent of what we had to go through. He never made it obvious to me that he was suffering.

Even when he had nightmares and chills. Even when he grew old, and I had to leave for college, and he was all alone in our apartment. He never said anything. My only saving grace was that our neighbors loved him as much as I did. They never truly left him alone, but I should have known. It won’t be the same.

I feel the emptiness of my home when the kids aren’t there. I just knew if they weren’t, even with one look and without having to go through their rooms. I just knew.

He met Ehryl once, which made me long for him to meet her even more. But it wasn’t safe.

Nothing seems to be safe now.

I held myself together as I stepped out of the house and into the light. The heat of the sun prickled my skin, but it wasn’t painful. It isn’t the same house that I grew up with, nor is it truly the same sun my whole family knew, but I remind myself it’s still the same sun.

When did I get so soft from the heat? I wonder.

My thoughts turned to what was only obvious. Instead of sagging with disappointment, I feel the longing in my bones. My chest constricted at the thought of him and age old memories I haven’t let myself remember for the longest time.

No, I softly chided myself. My hand over my heart as I willed it to calm down with my breathing. No, I stubbornly say to myself, harsher this time. Willful

Then I heard the crunch of familiar footsteps walking towards the driveway of the house, my body relaxing in response. She’s home.

The house became a home again.