Getting used to something has its disadvantages.
I wasn't so sure how to approach my father as I exited Felicity's room that night.
He and I were exceptionally close, and we rarely found ourselves upset with each other.
The only time I reckoned he got upset with me was during my 11th birthday.
My sister brought out a nicely baked chocolate cake she made for me as she and my dad sang me a happy birthday song. I sat on one of the chairs of our round dining table wearing a huge grin on my face.
I blew the candle out after making a wish, and we all ate what my father made: a large pan of lasagna, a bowl of spaghetti, large bottles of soda, and my favorite vanilla ice cream.
It wasn't a sad birthday despite me having it celebrated with only two people. Besides, they were my family and they were the best company I could have.
I made my way outside with Felicity carrying some huge plates filled with assorted food on each. We gave one of the plates for each of our neighbors who lived on either side of us.
Across the street, I spotted a wandering old man with a potato sack wrapped around its body as a means of clothing, carrying nothing but a stick he used to balance himself up. I could have sworn I just saw Dobby the House Elf, but he was a real live person.
His watery pale blue eyes stared up at me and I felt bad for the old man. I ran for the house, took a small plate and filled it with some lasagna and spaghetti. I also brought him a bottle of water I pulled out from the fridge.
I ran back outside hoping that the man didn't leave his post, and right I was, on the house from across the road, the old man sat by a grey wooden fence.
My foot rubbed the surface of the asphalt until I was in front of the old man. The weather was cloudy and there was barely sunlight but he still squinted as he looked up at me, a small pale kid with thin jet-black hair hidden under a baseball cap, holding out food for him.
The man's small and wrinkled lips moved as it formed a small smile. His eyes were on the verge of tears, and he accepted my offer gratefully.
We didn't speak to each other as I could have not known how to make a conversation with a lost old man who just suddenly wandered off into the streets of the village.
I went back inside and thought about the old man's clothing. My heart goes out to the old beggars and I couldn't bear the fact that one of them was here wearing an old fucking potato sack.
So I rushed to my dad's room, ruffled at his clothes in a closet and pulled out some of his old shirts that were still wearable. I took out some of his old jersey shorts as well. They were a bit worn out but they still looked okay. I placed the items in a plastic bag that I took from the kitchen and rushed back outside, handing it to the man.
Felicity called out to me and I had to run back. My dad was still in the kitchen eating away on his second plate of food, and we joined him with desserts.
Later that evening, my dad caught the sight of a messy room that I had left and I totally forgot about it. He asked Felicity and I about it and I admitted the truth.
I got reprimanded for what I did, and I probably deserved it because I didn't even ask permission. He got really upset with me and made me clean up the pile.
That night he talked to me and apologized, but I knew he didn't have to because I disarranged his neat wardrobe without proper excuse. He told me, though, that maybe the sudden anger and punishment he gave was a result from the feelings he still had after he and my mother separated two years ago, and I understood that completely.
He gave me a big hug after that.
Now that I'm 20 years old, it felt a whole lot different from when I was young and ignorant but I knew all I had to do was talk to him.
That weird gurgling feeling in my gut made it a bit difficult for me to move my feet.
My dad popped out of the kitchen with a glass of whiskey in his hands and he settled himself outside in the front porch, noticing not a strand of hair from me.
"Here goes nothing." I muttered to myself.
I peeped out from the screen door that stood in front of the wooden one and I cleared my throat.
My father looked towards me and gave me a weak smile. I stepped out and sat on the same chair where this small fuss began.
My dad took a swig from his glass and I pursed my lips and the corners lifted, giving him an awkward smile.
"How have you been?" I was shocked how high my voice got.
"I've been good." He nodded. "And you? How was school?"
"School was okay. The usual." I shrugged awkwardly.
"Fair enough." He took another swig.
I looked around anxiously. "Um, Felicity came home early." I spilled.
He looked at me plainly. "She called me at work earlier. Said she wasn't feeling well."
He pursed his lips and I think I knew what that really meant.
I nodded. "Looked like it. She's sleeping in my room at the moment."
"How is she?" I saw concern in his eyes.
"She'll be okay" was all that I could think of as a reply.
He just nodded, accepting my word.
He hadn't known about what happened in her room, and I'll keep that to myself and to my sister.
I tapped a hand on my lap for about a minute of awkward silence plus the sound of glass landing softly on wood before I blurted out the words "I'm sorry."
My dad was as startled as I was.
"Um, I'm sorry, dad." I repeated nervously. "About yesterday."
I looked down on my feet. My cheeks felt hot.
I heard him took a sip from his glass and placed it back on the table, and I felt him looking at me. "You didn't do anything wrong. Why are you sorry?" He laughed.
I looked at him, puzzled. I didn't know what to say.
He grinned. "I know you think you must have made me upset, but it wasn't your fault."
He looked at me but I still had nothing to say, so he continued.
"It was a bit shallow as an excuse to be upset with you, and I swear it really wasn't." He gave me a reassuring look. I kept listening. "And I'm sorry to have made you feel like it was your fault. It's just..."
He sighed deeply.
"Earlier that day I had a fight with your sister." He looked at me expecting some sort of reaction, but I already knew they had because it was the reason that woke me up that day. As not to be rude to him though, I nodded, letting him know I was listening intently.
He carried on.
"It wasn't really a fight. Just more of like a small argument." He shrugged his shoulders. "She told me about what happened between her and Bryce, and you know how much I never liked the guy for your sister. What he did just proved how much of an ass— I mean, how terrible he is as a person. I just let your sister decide for herself because she was happy with him, and I didn't want to ruin her life just because I didn't like the guy. I care about your sister and so I gave him the benefit of the doubt." He pursed his lips.
"Oh" was the only thing that came out of my mouth.
"Has she told you yet?"
"No. Not yet."
"Well I'll leave her to tell you that. It's not my business to share." He looked at me again and then back at the lawn just in front. "I was just so worried about your sister that I couldn't help but scream at her. I had a fit, you see. I told her I wanted to go to the man's house and I'll deal with him myself, but she stopped me and told me to leave it alone. I just couldn't."
He gave a laugh that was half hearted. "I was just being a protective father. But as I sat here, I began to realize how much of a mess that would have caused and I wouldn't want that for her and for our family." He took the last swig and sighed. "The anger still lingered in me for awhile, turned into sadness, then you came and sat there where you are right now. I was hoping we would have went somewhere fun so I could take my mind off of it, but then you had plans."
I looked away, feeling the guilt rise up in me.
"Hey, look here." At his request, I did. "I told you, it wasn't your fault that I got a bit upset. It was the feeling I still had in me and it was immature that I had to let it out on you too." He gave me a small and embarrassed smile.
I looked at him with my brows scrunched in worry.
"Pathetic of me."
I was still speechless, but I was listening.
There was silence that lapsed for only a few minutes.
"I'm growing old." He suddenly blurted out. "And so are you two."
I manifested a look that says 'confused and also a bit curious' as to where his statement was leading, and he continued.
"I guess I just wasn't used to the fact that you're all growing up, you know? Two young ladies of my blood with the freedom to fall in love, get hurt, and make decisions for themselves. Two of my beautiful young ladies with big dreams, pending life experiences and a future to make and I was here thinking only about myself and how I feel. It was selfish of me to feel that way and also making you feel that way because I was in my downest moment and I expected a bit too much from you because you're my pal, and my bestest friend in the whole world and God on high knows that. I just got a bit emotional but the reality is, I just wanted the company of my baby girl again." He looked at me, his eyes brimming with tears. "I miss you, buddy."
That was it.
I choked on my own sobs as I jumped across the small table and hugged my dad. I felt him hug me tighter as his shoulders shook.
Right there, in the moment I had with my dad on our front porch, I understood.
I also began to understand how it must feel like to grow old alone, with two kids who are growing up and making something out of their precious years, while some of those years are without you.
Sure he had work to keep him busy, but as living, breathing beings, we can't deny ourselves the reality that living the rest of your life with the people you cared about most was the ultimate life satisfaction.
I felt how my dad felt like I was an extension. It was the utter most saddest thing a human being could ever feel alive, and at that moment I realized I never want my dad to feel like that ever again.
"Promise me?" He croaked.
I pulled away to look at him, his face stained with tears and he smelled like whiskey.
"Promise me that no matter how old you get, you'll always be daddy's little girl. My little, baby girl."
Tears streamed endlessly from my eyes and I managed to breathed out "Promise" and hugged him with all my might.
"I love you daddy."
"I love you buddy."
We both laughed in between sobs, pulled away from the hug and wiped away our tears. I was on top of the table on my belly and I realized that the whiskey glass fell and got shattered on the floor.
"Never mind that." My dad said, laughing. "Now get off the table and let's have some dinner. I've brought roasted chicken!"
I hopped off excitedly from the table, and went back inside with my father. I woke Felicity up as gentle as I can and she agreed to have dinner with us. Her eyes were still swollen, but she looked better than earlier.
My dad gave her a hug and a kiss on the top of her head, not asking about her eyes because he knew fully well what had happened.
We left the sadness behind that night and we feasted on a delicious, whole roasted chicken.
My heart felt warmer.