𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘; bryson tiller

𝟏; 𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖

BRYSON PACED BACK and forth with his phone to his ear in the living room of his Sherman Oaks home, infuriated. It was a few minutes after 5 o'clock and Bryson has been greeted by his daughter's mother's voicemail for a sixth time. It was her mother's scheduled weekend for this month and once again, for the third weekend in a row, she's been a no show. His palm clenched into a fist around his phone just as he presses the red button. He reoccupies his space on the plush sofa in defeat, surrounded by scrapped pieces of paper written with thoughts and verses. Bryson has been preparing and working on his on the release and second studio album after a two-year hiatus, but he hasn't had much enthusiasm beyond the four songs he's already written.

Being a single parent and an up and coming artist in a city that wasn't his hometown was a lot to handle in many ways. Both were his full time jobs, but he enjoyed being a father more than the perks that came with fame, attention, and fortune. Time was moving slowly as Bryson found himself checking his phone every 30 seconds in hopes that he'd be receiving a phone call or text message any minute now. Bryson's daughter, Harley, sat near his feet with her Coraline doll in her lap while watching some of her favorite cartoons.

"Daddy, where's mommy?" she turns to ask.

Bryson hated this. He responds, "She'll be on her way soon, boo."

"Okay, daddy," she smiles. Harley returns her attention back to the television as she rocks back and forth with a little smile.

Harley enjoyed being with her mother just as much as she enjoyed being with her father, but he wanted her to know her mother more. Harley's mother and Bryson parted ways two years ago, leaving him the sole responsibility to care for their one-year-old daughter by his lonesome. Harley's mother wasn't the most honest nor faithful woman, therefore she preferred to do other things with other people. Bryson rests his head on the back end of the sofa as he take a hopeful glance at his phone's screen. He sighs before attempting to call Harley's mother again. There was no answer.

"Fuck," he mumbles to himself.

Harley was far too young to understand what her mother and father were going through, but how can he explain to his three-year-old daughter that her mother has abandoned her? Bryson places his phone face down along the armrest of the sofa as he picks Harley up to sit her on his lap. Her eyes remained on the television as she rests her head on her father's chest.

"Boo, I don't think mommy's coming today," Bryson informs with the deepest regret.

"Is mommy at work again?"

"Y-Yes, she is."

"Oh. That's okay, daddy. We can wait for mommy to come next time."

There was a pinch of sadness in her tone, but she remained hopeful as much as a three-year-old child can be. Harley's bedtime was soon approaching. She had a full day of baking with her new toy kitchen and playing dress up over tea parties. Harley yawns as she buries her head in her hands. She didn't bother to uncover her face as Bryson carries her to her bedroom. He places her in the center of her bed, surrounded by a dozen of her stuffed animals.

"What's the matter, Har?" Bryson asks as he tucks her into bed for the evening. He attempts to turn her sadness and face covering into a game of peekaboo only to notice her silently crying.

She sniffles, "I miss m-mommy, but she's doesn't misses us back."

"That's not true, boo. Mama loves and misses you too." He continues, "Everything's going to be okay. I promise."

As a father, Bryson didn't enjoy seeing his child being disappointed by her mother. It was a tug at his heartstrings. These things were never easy for Bryson since he's still in the new-parent phase. Bryson just needed a sign.