Chapter 55 Daisy - Moral Support
DAISY Moral Support
I was just getting Maisy down and bustling around my apartment, popping popcorn, pulling out wineglasses, and organizing boxes of peanut butter M&M’s on the counter.
Laura and Carmen had invited me to a movie, but, when I didn’t have anyone to watch Maisy, they decided to just come over here to watch one.
At the soft knock on the door, I looked over at the microwave.
It was only seven o’clock, and they weren’t supposed to arrive until eight.
My heart jumped all the way into my throat.
As I cautiously opened the door, I let myself imagine, hope, pray…
but as I opened it, I saw another man, one I wasn’t expecting. “Dad!”
“Clara,” he said, grinning.
As in Clara Barton, famous nurse, founder of the American Red Cross.
I wanted to hug him, but he was holding a huge box.
“Come in, come in!”
He set the box down on the ottoman that served as a coffee table in front of my TV. Then he turned and wrapped me in a hug, saying, “Wow! Look what you’ve done with the place!”
“Well, I had some good help,” I said, gesturing for him to sit on the couch. “What can I get you? I’m so glad you’re here! Are you spending the night?”
He shook his head and took my hands, pulling me over to sit beside him. “I, um…”
My heart raced. Was he sick? Was there an emergency? Because my dad didn’t drive an hour and a half tonight for an impromptu visit.
“Well, sweetie, your mom called me.”
My eyes widened. “And you answered?”
He laughed. “Well, mainly I answered because she called the shop, and you know we don’t have that newfangled caller ID.”
I had to stifle my laugh. Technology from the nineties was not newfangled. But this was a part of my dad’s charm.
“Look, she was very upset about your finding out she had never adopted you, and she felt like…” He trailed off, looking down at his hands, which he was rubbing together, a telltale nervous trait.
I put my hand on his. I hated to see him as anything but the strong, capable man who had raised me, who was sure of himself and could fix anything with those hands. He looked up at me. “She thought I needed to take responsibility for my part in this.”
That thudding heart again. “Your part?”
“Look, honey, I’m not a very exciting guy. I know that. But I love you, and I loved Julie, and when she left, all my biggest fears were confirmed. I wasn’t enough to make someone stay.”
“Dad, believe me, exciting is not what a woman should look for in a husband. You have all the traits of a perfect husband and father.”
He smiled at me sadly. “Well, honey, not perfect.” He sighed.
“Look, when she left, I made it very clear that she wouldn’t be involved anymore.
I told myself that a clean break was best for you, that you didn’t need an adulterer as your example, that you didn’t need her flitting in and out of your life when it was convenient for her.
I told myself that, by keeping her away, I was giving you stability. ”
I had to wipe tears from my eyes, remembering how much it had hurt all those years to be away from her.
She was just gone. I got that postcard, the week after she left, the one with the Cape Carolina return address that I kept underneath my bed.
I had read it so many times I had it memorized: I love you, my girl.
And it won’t be long until we are together again.
Whatever happens, don’t forget how special you are. Love, Mom.
It was the only goodbye I ever got, and it was a paltry one.
“But see,” Dad continued, “when I look back on it now, I wonder if maybe I wasn’t protecting myself too, if maybe I wasn’t punishing her. If she didn’t want me, she couldn’t have you either.”
I tried to summon some anger toward him, but all I could see was a strong man before me, broken.
All I could see was a man who had never cooked but learned to make banana nut bread because it was his daughter’s favorite breakfast, who learned to iron skirts for cheerleading competitions, who took me prom dress shopping and oohed and aahed over every choice, who sat at the kitchen table when he was exhausted to help me with calculus and college applications.
I couldn’t be mad at him because he had been hurt too.
And I knew with everything inside of me that he had done his best, just like I was doing now.
So I just nodded and squeezed his hands. “It’s okay, Dad,” I whispered. “You did great. You gave me this whole stable, wonderful childhood, and I know it was hard for you. You did your best. We all do.”
We all do. I did. And I knew, lately, my best had been pretty bad. But, even so, that’s what I was doing. My best.
He put his hand on the box and patted it. “You might feel differently when you know about this.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“After you got that postcard from your mom, you were sad and despondent for days. So, from then on, whatever she sent, I just put in the box.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to throw it all away, but I couldn’t quite do it. So, it’s all yours.”
With that, he stood up.
“Where are you going? You can’t spend the night?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got to get back to the shop. You know that. But maybe I can peek at Maisy before I do?”
I nodded and gestured for him to follow me. The night-light by her crib illuminated her sweet sleeping face, and I was completely overwhelmed by my love for her. Dad smiled down at her and squeezed my arm. We tiptoed out of the room, and I closed the door softly.
“She’s just beautiful,” he said.
I nodded. “She is. I wish I could keep her.”
He nodded too but didn’t ask any more questions. He hugged me. “Daisy,” he said, calling me by my real name, which was somewhat unsettling. “Anything I did, I did because I love you so much. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whispered. “Text me when you get home.”
“Will do.”
I sat in front of the box for a long moment after he shut the door. And then, finally, I made myself open it and remove the first parcel inside. I opened the bubble envelope, and then the card, which read:
I can’t believe my daughter is sixteen—and I know she is sweet! In my heart, I’m celebrating with you and eating a strawberry champagne cake we made together in your honor. Drive safe out there on those roads. Maybe come see your old mom sometime? I love you so much. xoxo Mom
Below it, she put her phone number and address. I unwrapped tissue paper to find a monogrammed silver key chain, inside a small blue felt bag that had kept it from tarnishing. On the back was engraved: Happy sweet 16! Love, Mom. I got up, grabbed my keys off the hook, and put them on the key chain.
I selected the next package.
Dearest Daisy, Do you remember how we used to make ice cream together?
I thought you needed an ice cream maker to keep you cool this summer!
Can you believe you’re going to be eighteen in only a few weeks?
I can’t. I had just turned nineteen the first time I met you.
Wow! Time flies. Make some ice cream. Think of me.
Never, ever smoke, but you should buy a pack of cigarettes to celebrate, you know, just because you can.
That’s what the five bucks is for. And always, always vote.
You have a big, beautiful voice, and it should be heard!
I love you. I wish I was with you blowing out your candles.
But I’m always carrying you in my heart! xo Mom
I was wiping tears I didn’t know had fallen when I heard a voice say, “Knock, knock!” followed by the door opening. I scrambled up, wiping my eyes again, and gathering wrapping paper to put back in the box.
Carmen entered, looking uncharacteristically worried. “What’s the matter?” Laura filed in behind her and hugged me. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head. “Yes. I’m good! Let’s watch the movie. I’m so excited!” Really, I thought I might catch fire if I didn’t see what else was in that box.
“No, ma’am,” Carmen said. “What is all this stuff?”
I sighed and flopped down on the couch. “It is, apparently, gifts my mom sent me that my dad never gave me.”
“What?” Carmen asked. “You’re kidding me.”
“I just can’t believe Julie is your mom,” Laura said.
I scrunched my nose. “Well, kind of. Evidently, she never actually adopted me. So, things are hazier.”
Carmen gasped. “That makes so much sense! So, that’s why she couldn’t have custody of you.”
I nodded.
“She didn’t seem like the kind to totally abandon her own child,” Laura said.
I pointed to the box. “Yeah. She definitely made an effort to reach out. I feel like I probably owe her an apology.”
I got up. “Hey, I have wine! And snacks!”
“I’ll get those,” Carmen said. “You keep looking through your box.”
Laura nodded. “We’ll be here for moral support.”
“But the movie?” I asked weakly.
“Oh, honey,” Carmen said. “This is juicier than any movie.”
I was grateful for my friends while I waded through these remnants of a past that I felt had somehow passed me by.
I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure what to believe.
But one thing was for sure: Julie hadn’t absconded into the night and forgotten about me. And that, at least, was a huge relief.