Sooner or Later (Feat. 1D and 5SOS)

3. Like a Band-Aid

Emma rolled her eyes. “Wow, Mom, it’s like feminism never happened in this house. You know, you’re taking women back to the Dark Ages.”

Mrs. Walters’s right eyebrow twitched upwards. “Is that so?” she said. “Well, my little feminist scholar, go on and tell me when the women’s rights movement started, since you’re the expert on the subject.”

 “Uh ... 19 ... 81.”

“Yeah, right after MTV,” her mother mocked with a dry laugh. “You need to pay more attention in school, kiddo. Now, go talk to your father, and if he agrees, you can go.”

Downstairs, Mr. Walters was slouching around in a tattered t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. In truth, he was supposed to be drawing with his youngest daughter, but once his wife left the room, he just sat her down on the carpet with some markers and paper and told her to make something pretty. It wasn’t good parenting, he knew, but after a long day at work, he just wanted to sit back, relax, and watch some television. Besides, Lydia seemed to be having plenty of fun without him. 

“Daddy, look!” she said, proudly holding up her most recent masterpiece. “It’s a butterfry.”       

Mr. Walters briefly glanced in her general direction. “Yes, that’s very nice, sweetie.”

As soon as Emma walked in, Lydia rushed over to her and started jumping around like an excited young pup. “See my drawing? See my drawing? It’s a butterfry!”  

“You mean, butterfly.”  

“Yeah, a butterfry. Do you like it? Do you like it? Daddy likes it.”

“Well, Dad would like anything you draw because you’re so little and cute and ...” Just then, a brilliant idea struck her, bringing a smile to her face. “Hey, Liddy, you wanna do me a favor?”

She shrugged. “What is it?”

Beckoning Lydia to come close, Emma crouched down and whispered the instructions into her sister’s ear. “Got it?” she asked once she’d finished speaking. Lydia nodded her head eagerly, making Emma grin. “Okay, go tell Dad. And remember, think cute.” 

Smiling wide enough to make her dimples show, Lydia skipped over to her father and then hopped onto the couch beside him. “Daddy,” she said as she crawled onto his lap and took his face in her tiny hands, forcing him to look at her. “Daddy, Emma wants me to tell you something. It’s important.”

“What is it?” he murmured, straining his eyes to find the television screen.  

“Emma wants to ... to ... uhh ... sweep Heidi’s house.”

Mr. Walters nodded. “Okay, broom’s in the closet.”

“Okay,” Lydia replied and then she jumped off his lap and ran back to Emma with a victorious smile on her face. “He said the broom is in the closet, Emma.”

“Yeah, I heard him,” she grumbled back.

“What’s wrong?” Lydia asked.

“I didn’t say sweep the house, you dummy; I said—Oh, never mind. Just forget it. Go back to your drawing.”

“But I’m outta paper.”

Emma shrugged. “So improvise,” and then she gently pushed Lydia aside and approached her father much like a mouse would a cat. “Hey, Dad,” she said, wringing her hands, “can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Um, okay, so Heidi wants to know if I can sleep over at her house on Friday. I already asked Mom, and she said I could as long as you agreed to it, and I know you will because you’re such a cool dad and all ...”