Tidings – Freya
One day, Freya would have blue hair like her mommy. She’d have pretty clothes and a daddy like all her friends.
A daddy who loved her. Mommie always told her that Daddy was a great prince who flew on dragons and lived in a castle far away.
Pursing her lips, Freya glanced at the baby dragon. This morning, after awakening Mommie, she’d run to the living room, straight to the Christmas tree. Cactus, elves, dragons, and birthday cakes decorated the fake cactus. Not only was today Christmas, but Freya’s birthday.
As she listened to her mommy weave stories about a man Freya didn’t remember, her eight-year-old brain tried to understand what she’d done wrong for him not to visit.
“I asked Santa and the Birthday Fairy to let Daddy visit me. I’ve been an extra good girl.”
Mommy hugged her. “You’re always a good girl.” She smelled like sunshine, even though she wore a pink shirt with a black heart on the pocket and a darker pink skirt.
“Then why hasn’t he visited me? I want a daddy like my friends.”
“I know, sweetheart,” she said gently. “Willie means well.”
“I do,” a voice said.
Freya and Mommie gasped and glanced toward the door. An overweight man with puffy cheeks stood in the doorway, wearing a long black dress.
“Marion?”
He stiffened. He wasn’t tall and he wore glasses like Freya.
“Sorry, Willie,” Mommie mumbled.
“I’m not Marion. I’m Mike—”
“Marion’s a girl’s name,” Freya said with a giggle, over her shock.
He turned his attention to her. “Hello, Freya.”
She waved. “Hello.”
“Do you remember me?”
Freya shook her head.
“She hasn’t seen you since she was three, Willie.”
“I’m your father. Marion Michael Wilkins.”
Freya’s eyes rounded. “Santa and the Birthday Fairy heard me,” she whispered in awe.
The man… Daddy …nodded.
Squealing, she jumped to her feet and flew into her father’s arms.
Laughter shook his belly. Just like Santa in the poem. Freya laughed harder. Her father wrapped his arms around her and she pressed her chin into his chest and smiled at him.
“You’re right about the name Marion, Cricket,” he said, bestowing her with a special nickname. “That’s why I hate it. Don’t ever repeat it. I only use it under extraordinary circumstances.”
She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she nodded, dropped her arms, and backed away. “Why are you in a dress? Did you bring your dragon?”
Daddy glanced at Mommie, then gave Freya a gentle smile. “It’s called a cassock.”
“Willie,” Mommie whispered.
He ignored her and walked out. A moment later, he returned, carrying a suitcase. He set it in front of Mommie. “For you and Freya, Christa.”
“But—”
“I’m leaving for good.” He dug in his pocket and took out a small card. He held it out to Mommie. “Call Sharper Banks tomorrow. He will help you to leave Las Vegas and relocate.”
“I don’t understand—”
He kissed Mommie’s cheek. “It isn’t for you to understand, my dear.” He returned to Freya and crouched down, swiping at the tears streaking her cheeks. “Behave for your mother. Always remember that I love you.”
Disappointed he wouldn’t take her for a dragon ride, she hugged him tightly. “Okay, Daddy.”
He stood again. “Your lives depend on your cooperation, Christa.”
“What have you done now ?”
Ignoring Mommie, Daddy patted Freya’s head and walked out. She never celebrated Christmas or her birthday again, even after her father reentered her life twelve years later.