Ricardo Vazquez padded through his house as if in search of something, or someone. He peered into the kitchen, surprising his cook, Manang Minda, at his early morning visit into her lair. She asked him if he needed anything. Did he want his breakfast now? Would he prefer oatmeal and a bowl of fresh fruit, or a bagel with her special tuna spread? "Oatmeal", he muttered absent-mindedly and left her to do her job. He padded through his dining room with its ten-seater mahogany table, into his spacious living room. The other night after dinner, Joey sat Indian-style on the soft rug, writing in her little notebook. She was always scribbling away. It was either that, or she was sketching on a large pad. Ricardo would stand aside and quietly watch his daughter, not daring to disturb her and ruin the moment. From the day she appeared unannounced at his office, exactly nine days ago, he had been in a constant state of awe and disbelief at his sudden good fortune. All his millions in the bank were worth nothing compared to that moment when he hugged his daughter and she hugged him back. It was only the third time in his adult life, not counting the teary-eyed moments, when he shed copious tears. The first two times were when two of the most important women in his life, namely his then-wife and his only daughter, left him. Now, one of them was back home and he vowed never to give her a reason to walk away from him again.
The sound of birds chirping distracted him. He stepped quietly through the living room and peeked into the adjoining verandah. There he spotted her, sitting motionless on a lounge chair, her notebook cradled in her lap, while engaged in a staring game with a little brown bird scrounging for food in the well-kept garden fronting the verandah. Ricardo took another step forward which sent the little bird and his companions flying away to safety. Joey turned her head, sensing that she wasn't alone. She smiled at the sight of her dad and rose to her feet to give him a peck on the cheek.
"Breakfast, Pa?", Joey offered. Ricardo nodded and Joey promptly disappeared into the house. He stared with curiosity at Joey's notebook, left lying on the chair. But he dared not touch it. Seconds later, Joey came marching out with Manang Minda in tow, bearing trays of breakfast goodies.
"Don't you have work today?", Ricardo asked his daughter while she set a bowl of oatmeal and fresh fruit on the small table between them. She poured brewed coffee into two cups and settled down into her chair with her bowl of cereal.
"Just papers to fix.", Joey replied. "Ninang Sol found a buyer for her house and studio."
"What will you do once it's sold?"
"I'm helping my best friend with her online business."
"We could use some help in our Creative Dep."
"You have a Creative Department?" Joey looked up from her cereal to stare at her dad. Ricardo almost smiled at his daughter's look of surprise.
"It's small but necessary.", he explained. "We do have brochures. We need good artwork. And good write-ups."
"Okay.", Joey nodded nonchalantly.
Ricardo sipped his coffee, quietly studying his daughter. It was a huge relief and a pleasant surprise that they could chat so comfortably, as if they weren't coming from a long period of friction between them. Perhaps, all they really needed was time for reflection and for change. For his part, it was learning to accept that hers was a journey totally her own, that she would carve her own niche in the world on her terms, not his. He shot a glance at the notebook resting on the chair beside Joey. Then, "Why don't you read to me one of your works? I heard that you write very well."
"Who said?"
He shrugged. "A little birdie. Please?"
"Pa—", she started to protest.
