Chapter 7 - Dad's Watch at Midnight
That night he didn't send me to bed right away. He sat on the floor outside my doorway with his back against the wall, his legs stretched out into the hallway where the light from my bookcase made his gray pants look lighter than they were.
I watched him from my bed. I was still in my puff-sleeve dress and my bow had slipped a little to the side. The silver frame was on my pillow next to me, face up so Mom could see. Jenna was downstairs. I could hear her filling the dishwasher, quiet, like she didn't want to interrupt.
My dad kept turning his left wrist over. He had his silver watch on and his wedding band caught the warm light every time he moved. He wasn't checking the time. He just kept looking at it like he'd forgotten why he was wearing it.
I remembered that watch. He'd worn it when Mom was in the hospital. I remembered the band too, because Mom had one that matched. Hers wasn't on her hand anymore. It was in his drawer.
He finally looked over at me and saw I was awake.
"You still up, bug?" he said. His voice was low.
I nodded. I didn't pick up the frame yet. I just held the blanket.
He pushed himself up and came to sit on the edge of my bed. The mattress dipped. He smelled like coffee and laundry detergent. He put his hands on his knees and his band made a soft tap against his watch.
"I need to tell you something right, okay?" he said. "About Mom."
I pulled the frame a little closer. The glass was cool against my hand.
He took a breath. I could see it, slow, his shoulders rising.
"Mom died a few months ago, Sofia," he said. He said it plain, not like a story. "She was really sick. The doctors couldn't fix it. She isn't coming back to live here."
I didn't cry right away. I just stared at the white bookcase with the teddy bears. The bunny with the blue ears was tipped over.
"She's not my mommy," I said, quiet. I meant Jenna.
"I know," he said quickly. "Jenna's not your mommy. She knows that too. I brought her here because I was lonely and I didn't want us to be sad alone. I think I did that too fast."
His thumb went to his wedding band and spun it once. He didn't take it off.
"I kept this on because I still love your mom," he said. "And this watch was hers once. She gave it to me so I'd be on time picking you up from daycare. I look at them and I still think about her."
I looked down at the silver frame in my hands. Mom and me in it. She was smiling so I could see her teeth.
"Mommy said it so she can still see me," I whispered.
He nodded. His eyes got wet but he didn't wipe them right away.
"She did say that," he said. "You remember that day on the bed before she went to the hospital? She gave you this picture and said that?"
I nodded.
"What I think she meant," he said, careful, his voice catching a little, "is that when you hold it, you can remember her and feel close to her. Not that she's watching you like a camera. But that she loved you so much she wanted you to have a way to keep her with you when you missed her."
I held the frame up with both hands. My arms were getting tired.
"Can she still see me if I hold it?" I asked.
May you like
He didn't answer right away. He just looked at me, his mouth a little open, breathing slow. The dim light made his stubble look darker. He put his hand gently over mine on the frame, not taking it, just covering it.
He paused a long time before he spoke, and in that pause I could hear Jenna's footsteps stop at the bottom of the stairs, like she was waiting to see if we needed her.
