I found my father busily typing away at his computer. Big surprise. Lately all he seemed to ever do was bury himself in his work
– his stories. My father is a wonderful writer, I just wish he spent more time in my life instead of his characters’. I made my best
attempt at a genuine smile, which I knew probably looked more like a frown to him.
“Hey, Daddy, what’ya working on?” He looked up briefly as if he had just noticed my presence.
“Oh, hello, Bess. What was it you wanted?” My stomach lurched and I had to check myself so I wouldn’t burst into tears. I missed my Dad.
“I asked what you were working on.”
“Oh. Well, it’s a new story.” As if I couldn’t figure that out on my own. “I’ve been studying the Myceneans recently; it’s a historical
fiction about life in those days.” I love ancient civilizations.
OH! OH, idea. And a great idea at that.
“Wow, Daddy. Want some help? I can answer any questions you have.” I was honestly excited, and I thought I sensed a little excitement in him
too. A smile; he cracked a smile. I missed my father’s smile – I can’t remember the last time he smiled.
“That would be great, Bess. Hey, I heard the phone ring earlier, anything that might have interested me?”
“Just Jason. I’m going to go to his house later tonight, if that’s alright?”
“Well, have you asked your mother?” He better not start this!
“Daddy!”
“What? I simply wondered what your mother thought.”
“No you weren’t. I am not going to start this with you.” I frowned at him to get my point across. “Can I go to
Jason’s, Daddy?” He sighed, understanding how I felt – or so I thought.
“Alright, Bess. Just remember to tell me – and your mother – when you leave.” I smiled and threw my arms around him.
“Thank you. I love you, Daddy.” I said as he returned my hug.
“I love you too, Bess.” We let go and I turned to leave. As I was shutting to door to his office I heard the typing begin again.
Mom smiled as she saw me come into the living room.
“What did Jason have to say?”
“Nothing special. Dad said I could go over to his house for a while later, is that alright with you?”
“Well, I guess so. Have you finished your homework yet?”
“See, that’s the problem—“ I tried curtailing the truth; I wanted to go to Jason’s, and I didn’t need her stopping me because of
some stupid homework assignment. “I need help on this one thing for World Studies.” She nodded, catching on. “We’re supposed to choose
a country to do a report – a project – on, and I can’t think of any that are interesting.”
“Really? I’m sure Greece, or Rome would be perfect for you.”
“Yah, but not in modern times. We have to research aspects of the culture, and government today – you know, tradition and politics.”
“Oh, I guess that might be boring in Greece.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So, what you’re trying to tell me is that going to Jason’s house is more important than school.” It was a statement, not a question.
I hated when she did this to me; she made me feel guilty for not being a complete bookworm.
“Mommy, of course that isn’t what I’m trying to say. I was just wondering,” a good eye batting here; a smile there, “if you could help
me find an interesting country to study?”
“Bess!”
“Yes, Mommy dearest?” I thought she’d claw my eyes out for that one.
“Bess, I’m not going to do your homework for you. I’ll sit down with you and look up some countries. You can go to Jason’s and we’ll
get on the computer when you get home.” What a wonderful Mom; I love my mom. “Oh, and Bess, don’t ever call me ‘Mommy dearest’ again!”
