This was the first time since the funeral that Palmer had returned to the house. Standing in the kitchen with her mother, while she piled through plastic container of food after plastic container of food from the fridge to the counter, Palmer couldn't help but feel good about being here. Life at school had felt rough these last few weeks, and she was happy to be around her mom again.
"Where the hell did all this food come from?" Palmer asked as she sipped her tea. "Neighbors, friends, accquaintances. These people come out of the woodwork when someone dies and bestow a litany of meals upon you. I was thinking of just reheating a lot of it and having a sort of open table of food we could pick at all night," Regina said, plopping yet another container on the counter. "Okay," Palmer said, shrugging, "that sounds like a good idea." "You okay honey?" "I'm alright. Yeah. I've been jogging with a friend at school lately, and that's been a nice change of pace," Palmer said, "how about you and Dodie?" "She's been...reclusive. I don't know. I've been writing things down in a journal at night and that seems to help, but Dodie doesn't seem to want to talk or have anything to do with me," Regina said, "I just...I wish I could reach her the way your father could. I don't know why they had such a close relationship, but I wish I could get to that same point." "It's gonna take some time, but I'm sure she'll come around," Palmer said as she sat at the table and watched her mother open each tupperware. "Maybe," Regina said, "...this looks atrocious. If you can't cook, at least have the decency to give me take out for god sakes. My husband just died. Haven't I suffered enough?" Palmer laughed, almost spitting her drink out, which made her mom smile. Palmer had always found her mother funny, but ever since her father had died, she'd found her mother even funnier, almost like she'd been holding back in his presence or something. Whatever the case was, Palmer was enjoying it. *** Dodie and Nona were sitting on the swings at the local park, with Nona's parents sitting nearby, both reading a magazine together as the girls played. "You've never had a sleepover?" Nona asked, "I mean...I guess I haven't either, but still. I could come spend the night at your house! We could watch movies and play games and stuff." "I don't know, I don't know if my mom wants people around right now," Dodie said, swinging gently, "but she is trying to get rid of all the food people gave us at the wake, so maybe she would appreciate having someone else there to help eat it." "Is it good food?" "I don't know," Dodie said. "Why did people give you food?" Nona asked. "I...don't know," Dodie said, furrowing her brow, now confused. Why had people given them food, and in such mass quantities? Oh well, made things easier on her mom. Regina hadn't had to cook an actual dinner for weeks. They either ordered food somewhere or ate leftovers from what was brought to the wake. "I don't think tonight is a good night, but maybe tomorrow night? At your house?" Dodie asked, and Nona smiled. "Okay!" The girls continued to swing in silence as the cool fall air breezed by them. Now all Dodie could think about was the mountains and mountains and food that had been brought and left in their kitchen. Why did people bring so much food? It didn't make any sense to her. And why did her mother feel so obligated to use it all? Not all of it was even that good. Maybe she'd ask her at dinner. *** "What even is this?" Palmer asked, opening a lid ever so slightly and then making a hideous face at the repellent smell that seeped out of the container as she gently pushed it away from her across the table. "I think they thought it was lemon chicken," Regina said, making Palmer chuckle again. "I'm not a very religious person," Palmer said, "but that thing is an outright sin." Regina laughed and sat down at the table with Palmer. She opened up a container and she sounded relieved upon seeing what appeared to be spaghetti inside. No way to screw that up, she figured. So she took a fork and start eating. The front door opened, and Dodie waddled inside, unzipping her jacket as she waved goodbye out the door to Nona in her parents car. Dodie seated herself at the table with her mother and sister and looked at the container of lemon chicken. "What is this?" she asked, pulling it towards her, lifting the lid. "Don't open it," Palmer said. "Oh my god," Dodie mumbled as she made the same disgusted face and pushed the container away once again. "I told you," Palmer said, the girls laughing. "Mom, why did people give us so much food?" Dodie asked. "Well, they see it as making my life easier. They bring food because they think it'll help. I've just lost my husband, you girls just lost your father. The last thing anyone wants to do is cook, right? They feel like this eases our lives somewhat. But...it really doesn't. If anything it just complicates things, because now I have half a pile of tupperware full of disgusting home cooked garbage that I can't eat, but feel too guilty to throw away. The only thing that would make things easier would..." Regina paused for a moment, clearly trying not to cry in front of her daughters. Palmer and Dodie glanced at one another, concerned. "The only thing that would make things easier would be to have your father back," Regina finished, "to have things just be like they were. But that isn't life. Life is messy and awful and terribly sad. But at least you girls are here. Not just to give me emotional support, but also to help me eat all this crap." Palmer and Dodie cracked up, and then dug in. *** "What is this?" Anita asked as she slid the container from the fridge in the dorm and opened the corner of the lid, then made a face and shoved it back into the fridge. "I wanna say it's a science experiment, but I'm also leaning towards an act against God," Palmer said, making Anita laugh as she wiped the stench away from her face. "Girl, you ain't kiddin'," she said as she walked over to the table and sat down with her. Palmer offered to take some of the food off her mothers hands by taking it back to the dorm with her. This way it wouldn't go to waste, and she'd have meals to eat each day. Anita pushed her bangs from her eyes and looked at Palmer. "So, I was gonna go out with some friends from another college tonight," Anita said, checking her nails as she chewed on them absent mindedly, "and I thought you might wanna come. We're gonna go to a really nice restaurant, plus one of the guys is someone I think you'd really like." "That's nice of you, but I don't think so," Palmer said, "I think I'd prefer to eat what I brought back." "Seriously?" Anita asked, "you'd rather eat The Dinner From The Black Lagoon than have a four star meal?" "Yes," Palmer said, chuckling and nodding, "yes I would. I can't explain it but...it's like...ever since my dad died, I've been both trying to distance myself from him while getting as close to him as possible, if that makes sense? Eating this food, unholy as it may be, makes it feel like he's still here, kind of. It's hard to explain." Anita nodded and patted her on the arm. She knew she didn't need to explain anything, and she knew Anita wouldn't ask any further. That was the thing she truly appreciated about their friendship, was how much the other one just understood. Anita got herself ready, said goodbye and headed out. While Palmer studied, she ate one of the containers - a chicken cheese dish - and kept studying until Arthur suddenly showed up to the dorm. He let himself in and sat down at the table, looking at the food. "What in god's name are you eating?" he asked. "Trust me, god's got nothin' to do with it," she replied, mouth half full. *** Dodie was thrilled the following evening when she went to Nona's for a sleepover, and she wasn't forced to eat leftovers. Her parents made a meal together, featuring a roast and potatoes and broccoli, and it was the best thing Dodie had remembered eating in what felt like months. After dinner, the girls sat in the entertainment room under a pillow fort and ate ice cream sandwiches while watching The Little Mermaid. "Your parents like to do things together," Dodie finally said quietly. "Mhm," Nona replied, nodding, "they like doing things as a team." "I don't think my mom and dad were ever like that," Dodie said, "I mean, they loved eachother, but...but I never saw them do anything together. Gardening, maybe, but that's it." "...what's it like to not have a dad?" Nona asked, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't-" "It's okay," Dodie said, "um...it's weird. I feel...less safe. Having a daddy made me feel safe, and now that he's not around, the world feels scarier. I know my mom takes good care of us, and she'd do anything to protect us, but...I really miss him." "I would be so unhappy if my dad died," Nona whispered, looking at her remaining ice cream sandwich, "I'm sorry that happened to you." "It's okay," Dodie said, "I mean...it's not okay, but you know. Thanks. Sorry I'm not very good at being friends with someone. I've never really had any besides my sister and my parents." Nona smiled. "Well, we'll get better at it together then!" she said. Ice cream sandwiches, real friendship and no awful leftovers. What a good night this turned out to be. *** Palmer and Arthur laid on the couch together, watching an old black and white movie on mute, while they ate out of the containers Palmer had brought back. "This is not the devils work," Arthur said while chewing, "the devil may be evil but even he wouldn't do this to people." "Heh," Palmer said, "well, if it helps, I gave you the worst possible one because I didn't want it myself." "Glad to be of service. So what are you doing in on a weekend?" Arthur asked. "I don't know," Palmer replied, shrugging, "Anita asked if I wanted to go out with her and some friends, she wanted to introduce me to some guy, but honestly I just...I don't really like socializing. I like things the way they are, just you and me, and sometimes her, and awful awful food." "Maybe it's grief," Arthur said, "Sometimes when someone close to someone dies, the surviving person deals with grief by detaching themselves from everything else. Isolating. They're scared to lose anyone else, so they figure they'll just go through life on their own." "But I'm not on my own, I have you two," Palmer said. "Sure, but...Palmer we're in college and neither one of us is living like it," Arthur said, "What if I went with you? Do you just not wanna be paired up with some weird dude?" "Mostly," Palmer said, "...I guess it'd be okay. We're about out of food here anyway now." "Thank the lord for that," Arthur said under his breath, "Well, get your jacket on and let's go meet Anita and her friends. We need to start behaving like college kids. No more sitting around by ourselves anymore." "I thought you liked sitting around with just me for company," Palmer said, sitting up as Arthur stood and started to pull on his jacket. "I do, sure, but aren't you the least bit curious what it is other college kids do?" he asked. "Not particularly," she replied, standing up and taking their containers to the kitchen, filling them with water and leaving them to soak in the sink; she leaned on the counter and sighed, "I appreciate it, Arthur, I really do, but I don't wanna be around anyone else right now. I like how things are. I'm not, I guess, happy or whatever, but...I'm as comfortable as one can be given my particular circumstances." Arthur approached her as she started to sniffle and wipe her eyes on her sweater sleeve. "...I'm here, I'll stay with you," he said, opening his arms as she fell into his chest, hugging eachother. Palmer was so appreciative of Arthur's friendship, and she rarely thanked him for it. She felt guilty. But she knew that, if the situation were reversed, she'd be there for him too. She knew she had friends she could depend on, and she knew Dodie had made a friend at school, but she felt bad for their mother... ...how did she handle being all alone after so many years of matrimony? *** "I do feel sad," Regina said as she sat on her bed that night, wine glass in hand as she looked at photos of her husband, "I do, I'm not heartless, but I'm also grateful. We'd been growing apart, we both knew it, and neither one of us wanted to admit it. Something was going to have to change. I think we were sticking it out so Dodie could have a good home life, and we were still friends, but the romance was gone. He was someone else entirely." The man sitting on the bed across from her ran his hands through his thick chocolate brown hair and sipped from his wine glass. He was at least ten years younger than her, and worked at the local grocery store. "I'm glad you could come over, this is the first night I've been actually alone in years," Regina said. "No problem," Adam said, "And I brought you some groceries, to replace all that atrocious garbage in your fridge. Those people should be ashamed of themselves." "This isn't weird, right?" Regina asked, "I'm...I am so not used to this." "Naw, it's not weird," Adam said, "I mean, the whole situation is a little weird, sure, but that's just because that's what death is like, it's weird and it makes things weird, but...hey...what you're doing, what we're doing, ain't weird." Regina smiled as the candlelight danced across her face. She'd never considered being with anyone other than her husband, but she was thankful for a fresh start of sorts. She leaned in and kissed Adam, who happily kissed her back, as she pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, taking his wine glass and setting them both on the floor beside the bed. "You sure you're cool with this?" he asked again. "Yeah, I'm cool with it, you just can't be here when my daughter comes home tomorrow," she whispered, "now shut up." And with that she put out the candlelight.
0 Comments
Dodie was sitting in her bedroom on her bed, trying to do her homework, but she was finding she was having a harder and harder time even getting started. Essay homework was never her strong suit, and in this case specifically she just wasn't exactly sure what to put down. The door to the room opened and her mother peered in, making Dodie look up at her.
"Hey Doodlebug," Regina said, "still doing homework?" "I didn't used to have to do essays," Dodie whined. "I know, things were easier in lower grades, but that's all part of growing up," Regina said, smiling as she entered and sat down on the bed beside her daughter. "Maybe I should rethink this whole growing up thing," Dodie mumbled, making her mother laugh. "Well, do you need some help? What's the essay question?" Regina asked. "I'm supposed to write about the person I most admire," Dodie said, "but I can't think of how to do it." "Having a hard time picking someone?" Regina asked, and Dodie shook her head, her braids swinging. "No, I know who I'm choosing, I just don't know how to explain why," Dodie said. *** Palmer was lying on the couch in her dorm, her legs across Anita's chest as she laid upside down, her head hanging off the couch, smoking a joint. Anita handed Palmer the joint, but she politely declined, shaking her head and shoveling chips from the bag they were sharing into her mouth. "Don't they drug test the kids doing sports?" Palmer asked. "Do I look like I care?" Anita asked. "Fair enough." "Do you not smoke?" Anita asked. "I tried it once in high school, it just wasn't for me," Palmer said, "though, now with my dad gone...maybe I could use something to take the edge of." "Don't get into drugs just because you're in grief," Anita said, exhaling smoke, "there's definitely pros to it, but don't do it just to escape something. I do it because it relaxes me, because god damn dude, being an athlete is stressful as hell and I need some kind of release that isn't sex or eating." Palmer chuckled as the phone rang and she swung her legs off Anita and hopped up off the couch. She strolled across the room and answered the phone. "Hello?" she asked. "Hi," Dodie said, "Can I ask for help?" "Of course, I mean, with as much as I can, considering I'm not there," Palmer said, "What do you need help with?" "...I need help writing an essay," Dodie said. As if college wasn't working Palmer hard enough, now she had to do 3rd grade essays to boot. *** Palmer had never very well done in elementary school, especially when it came to writing. She'd always struggled, partially because she'd been diagnosed with dyslexia, but she also just didn't enjoy putting her thoughts down on paper. She preferred to sift through them internally, like her mother did. She could recall one particular homework assignment from 5th grade where she was supposed to write down what she'd most like to do when she grew up, and how, since she couldn't think of anything interesting, she just wrote that she'd prefer not to grow up. Suddenly counselors and teachers alike were worried to death about her. She was pulled from class for an hour a week and made to talk to the school psychologist, simply to ensure that she wasn't suicidal or anything like that. Palmer most certainly wasn't suicidal, she just lacked an imagination, and couldn't see the merit of deciding on a career when she was in 5th grade, especially since she'd likely switch her interest in careers only a year or so later. Kids rarely follow through on their plans from childhood. She was surprised, actually, when she got to college and found herself enjoying doing essay work, but it didn't shock her one bit that Dodie was having the same trouble she'd had. Or, at least, she assumed she was. As it turned out, Dodie loved writing, and she'd already picked a subject on which to cover. She just needed information. *** "What'd you talk to your sister about?" Regina asked that night at dinner, and Dodie shrugged. "I don't know. School stuff," she said casually, scooping peas onto her fork and eating them. "Was she able to help you with your essay?" Regina asked, cutting into her fish. "Yeah," Dodie said, "...she told me that she wasn't very good at writing when she was my age. She said that she didn't like it, and that it was hard for her but then dad helped her and she got a lot better and started enjoying it." "That's true," Regina said, biting into her fish, "but her father showed her that with a little bit of effort, she can create worlds where she feels comfortable and happy when she isn't in reality. Sort of an escape, I guess. Your father loved writing, and he was excellent at it. I was always annoyed with him that he never did it professionally." "...did Palmer leave any of her writing here that I can see?" Dodie asked, and Regina smiled, shaking her head. "I'm sure she wouldn't want you to see any of it. I'm sure a lot of it's either extremely personal or extremely embarrassing," Regina said. Dodie frowned. All she wanted to do was see what her sister was capable of, what she'd managed to learn from their father. No matter, she didn't need their mothers permission. She'd find her sisters writing that night after mom had gone to bed. Dodie was sneakier than anyone ever could've anticipated. That evening, after her mother had fallen asleep, Dodie climbed out of bed and, with her little frog flashlight, snuck upstairs to her sisters room. She opened the door silently, crept inside and quietly shut the door behind her. She then started looking around her sisters room, though making sure to put everything back where it was so her mom wouldn't become suspicious, and finally found a series of ringbound pads of paper. She opened them up, sat down and wrapped her sisters sweatshirt around her, and started reading. "Dad likes Dodie more than me. I should be happy, because Dodie is great, but I can't help but feel annoyed. I'm more annoyed at dad than her, obviously, because he should know how to talk to me, but he doesn't. He seems to only know how to be around small kids. I'm glad Dodie has our fathers attention, but I feel so alone. I don't really have any friends, and none of the boys I like seem to like me, so my only friends are mom when she's not working, and, of course, my sister. I sometimes wish she was an only child, because I feel like I'm just wasted space." Dodie shut the book and immediately felt bad. She didn't wanna read anymore. She'd never known her sister felt so alone, and suddenly she felt guilty, as if she'd stolen their dad away from her. Now he was gone, Palmer was at college, and Dodie understood what being alone really felt like. She put all the journals back, exited the room and went back to her bed. As she climbed back in, she turned on her bedside lamp and started writing her essay. She'd do for Palmer what their father couldn't. *** Palmer woke up the following morning and rolled over on the couch, seeing Anita lying on the floor still asleep beside the couch, the bag of chips over her eyes. Palmer chuckled to herself, then groaned as she climbed off the couch and stumbled to the bathroom. She'd never really had a friend that was a girl before, so this "bonding" thing was new to her, but she was beginning to like it. As she adjusted the mirror attached to the medicine cabinet and started doing some cleanup on her makeup and hair, she felt a sense of...belonging. This was new to her, and it sort of scared her, but she knew it was a good thing. She had to learn to have friends who were her peers and not her family. She sighed, pulled her eyeliner from the jar and started applying as Anita bumbled her way into the bathroom and dropped her panties, sitting on the toilet to pee, not even seeming to care that Palmer was there. "Do you not have class?" Anita asked groggily. "In about an hour," Palmer said, "No practice?" "Not today, no," Anita said, "I may just snooze on your couch all day if that's cool. I could use the rest." "My dorm is your dorm," Palmer said happily, "there's plenty of snacks and stuff in the little kitchenette. I've got frozen waffles, poptarts, whatever. Help yourself." "Cool, thanks," Anita said. Palmer gathered her things, and left to meet Arthur in the cafeteria. When she arrived, she found Arthur sitting by himself, and he happily looked up to greet her when she seated herself across from him. She smiled back as she plopped her backpack on the table in front of her. "Your hair looks nice and curly today," she said. "Thanks, I'm doing this new thing called showering," he said, "It's kinda legit, apparently people have been doing it for centuries." Palmer laughed as she pulled out her course work for the upcoming class and started to look over it, just to make sure she'd done it right and she was happy with it. After a few minutes, she sighed and let the paper fall flat on the table as she looked back at Arthur again. "...do you think I'm weird?" she asked. "Yeah but it's why I like you," he replied. "I've never had friends really, especially not friends who are girls, and now this track girl and I are hanging out all the time and it's...it's really nice. I feel good being a part of a feminine friendship. None of the girls at my old schools ever liked me. Actually, most people, regardless of gender, never seemed to like me much. My dad didn't even seem all that invested in me, really." "Well, she likes you, I like you, your sister likes you obviously," Arthur said, "and dads are always more often than not gonna let you down. My dad is alright, but sometimes he can be a real jerk because I don't particularly adhere to his generations idea of manhood. Look at me, I'm wearing courderoy slacks and a sweatervest. Do I look like I care about sports?" Palmer laughed again. She did enjoy having Arthur around to bounce things off of, this was true. "...thanks for being weird with me," she said with a slight grin. "Anytime, pardner," he replied. *** "The person I most admire is my sister," Dodie said, standing in front of the class that morning, reading her paper, "...she's the coolest person I've ever known. She does whatever she wants and she doesn't let others tell her how to feel. She's at college now, and I wanna go to college someday because she did and she says it's cool. When our dad died, she came home and spent time with me to make sure I was okay, because she really cares about me." Dodie waited a second, wiped her nose on her sleeve, then continued. "My sister thinks our dad didn't like her much, and we learned I was my dads favorite, but I don't think that's fair. Parents shouldn't have favorites, and my sister is way cooler than I am. She's my favorite. She's strong, and smart and she does whatever she wants to do no matter what anyone thinks about it. She's always there to talk to me and help me, and she's a really kind and caring person. This is why my sister if the person I admire most, because even if she wasn't my sister, she's just a good human being, and I feel lucky to know her. I hope one day I can be even half as cool as she is." Dodie waited for the teacher to give her the nod, letting her know she could go back to her seat. As she headed back to her chair, she noticed the girl sitting at the desk beside her. She had short orange red hair and soft almond eyes. Dodie sat down and the girl leaned towards her, whispering. "I liked your essay," she said. "Thanks," Dodie said. "I'm Nona," the girl said, "you're lucky, I always wanted a sister, but my parents broke up." "I'm sorry," Dodie said, trying to ignore her. "...anyway, I liked your essay and your sister sounds cool. Sorry your dad died," Nona said. "...thank you." A moment passed as the next student got up and headed to the front of the class to read their essay, then Nona leaned in again. "Do you wanna come over to my house this afternoon and play a game?" she asked, and after a moment, Dodie nodded. "Okay, that sounds fun," she said. As it turns out, nothing forces the Hurks girls to meet new people like the loss of those they already knew. *** Palmer could remember sitting on the swingset in the backyard, watching her father play with Dodie when Dodie was only a few years old. She could remember being angry, being frustrated, feeling bad for being those things. She wanted to scream and hit him, but she never once wanted to hurt her sister. She loved her sister. This memory seemed to permeate Palmer's brain the entire day, and she found she was having a fairly difficult time getting through her classes without daydreaming. Once the day was done, and Palmer wound up back in her dorm, she found Anita sitting still on the couch, eating a bowl of dry cereal. Palmer shut the door to the dorm behind her and stood there as tears began rolling down her face and Anita immediately got up, put her bowl down and put her arms around her friend. "Whoa, what happened? You have a bad day?" she asked. "...I think I hated my dad," Palmer said through her sobs. "...it's okay," Anita said softly, patting her friend on the back, "everyone hates their parents at some point." Palmer stayed and sobbed on her friends shoulder for a good 15 minutes or so. She'd never once contemplated that she'd outright hated her father, but now that the realization was sinking in, she felt even more gross about their relationship than before. At least when someone was alive and you were mad at them, there was the potential to fix it, but once they're gone... ...now she was taking his death personally, like he'd taken away the only chance they'd ever have to repair their relationship, a relationship he likely didn't even know was as broken as she assumed it was. Now she was mad at him for dying for an entirely different reason. While Dodie had a snack and played board games at her new friends house that afternoon, Palmer spent her day crying on her new friend on the couch. But both were grateful to have a girl friend to be with. Sometimes the most healing thing for women, they'd both discovered, were other women. Especially when men let them down so bad. Palmer was sitting on the grass, watching nearby students practicing Tennis, while she ate a package of Graham Crackers. She couldn't stop thinking about her father, which a school therapist had told her was understandable, considering the recent events. They'd told her, "when someone dies, we often spend a lot more time thinking about them than we did while they were still with us", and Palmer admitted that, yeah, when he was still here, she had rarely thought about him. She heard the sound of shoes approaching her, and looked to her right to see Anita seating herself, eating nachos from a cardboard container clearly from a food truck.
"Watcha doin'?" she asked. "Watching people play Tennis," Palmer said. "Everything okay?" "...I don't know," Palmer said, "I was at my moms house this past weekend, to help her with some stuff regarding my dad, and I learned that my sister was his favorite. It's been messing with me ever since. What's worse is how it wasn't even all that surprising. I mean, he rarely came to anything I did, extracurricular based, and after a certain age we just didn't speak much at all. I never really understood why, and I just sorta banked on the idea that we'd have time to sort that all out. Never occurred to me that that might not in fact be a possibility." Anita nodded and scooped more nachos in her mouth, chewed, then looked at the Tennis players and then back at Palmer. She reached over and put a hand on her leg, smiling. "What happened?" she asked, "At your moms? Tell me about it." Palmer returned the smile, and sighed. "Alright," she said. *** The previous weekend, Palmer had gone back down to her mothers to help her deal with some paperwork and other things regarding their fathers death. Dodie stayed in her bedroom the whole time, which Palmer didn't mind, considering she wouldn't have time to spend with her anyway, as her mother was keeping her busy. As they sifted through box after box of paperwork - wills, deeds, medical records and more - Palmer came across a small beige photo album. "What is this?" she asked, slowly opening it. "It's a photo album," Regina said. "Well, obviously," Palmer said, making her mom chuckle as she added, "I just mean why haven't I ever seen it? It's not familiar in the slightest." "Parents are allowed to keep some private things, aren't they?" Regina asked as she opened up a small envelope and started reading through the letter inside. "What if it's...porn?" Palmer asked, and her mom threw her head back and cackled. "I highly doubt it's porn, but if it is, then I apologize for subjecting you to your fathers taste in adult materials," Regina said, making Palmer laugh a little. It was nice, just the two of them, trying to make the mood lighter when dealing with such an upsetting situation. Despite the possibility of discovering her deceased dads whacking material, Palmer opened the photo album anyway. "Oh," she said, "it's just pictures of us." "I told you it wouldn't be porn. Nobody puts porn in a photo album," Regina replied. "Some people are classy," Palmer stated as she started to slowly flip through the pages, "...these are not photos I've ever seen, I don't think. These must have been his personal favorites or something. I remember when these were taken, I've just never seen them." The photos ranged from vacation shots to shots from around the house to a handful of birthday shots, but there was one that caught Palmer's attention above all the rest, and that was the last photo in the album. It was of Dodie, and she was dressed as a dinosaur for Halloween. She looked to be about 4, and it was an extremely cute image. She had a plastic pumpkin pail grasped in her costumed hand, and she was standing on their back patio. But it wasn't the photo that caught Palmer's attention, no, it was the scrawled hand written words beside it that did. She recognized it as her fathers handwriting immediately. "My favorite." And Palmer felt herself shrivel up a little inside. She already had enough of a complex about her relationship with her father - and thus her inherent worth and value as a person because of it - but now...this just added fuel to the fires of insecurity. *** "That's it? It just said 'my favorite'?" Anita asked, the both of them now lying on their backs on the grass. "Yeah. I always had a sneaking suspicion, and it wasn't so much a suspicion as it was a blatant certainty, but...seeing it spelled out, literally, like that...it just kinda hurt. My dad and I used to be close when I was little, but I don't know what happened. As I got older, he seemed to have no interest in me, and instead focused primarily on my sister. It was almost like he only liked us when we were little girls." "Most men, even fathers, don't know how to deal with adolescent women," Anita said, "when my mom told my dad that I had my first period, he just shrugged and said 'well, these things happen'." Palmer laughed, she couldn't help it, and she appreciated having Anita around to raise her spirits. "I'm just saying," Anita continued, "I wouldn't take it personally." "My sister is his favorite and I'm supposed to not take that personally?" Palmer asked. "Sounds stupid when you say it, but sure," Anita replied, making Palmer smile. Maybe Anita was right. Maybe she shouldn't take it personally. After all, after a while, she had even stopped trying to put in any effort to have a relationship with him. It wasn't like they never spoke, or they argued, or had any kind of bad relationship. They were friendly with one another, they hugged, they did talk. But it felt more like a relative she didn't see very often than a father she should know very well. Either way, Palmer knew she had to get her mind off it. What she didn't know, however, was that Dodie couldn't get her mind off it. *** "Palmer says I was dads favorite," Dodie said the morning after Palmer had left to go back to college. She was sitting in the living room, eating cereal and watching an educational show. Regina was getting her lunch ready for school in the kitchen, but upon hearing this, she stopped and immediately joined Dodie in the living room. "She did what now?" "She says I was dads favorite," Dodie repeated, "she said she found a photo book and it said I was dads favorite in it." "You know, I'm starting to wish you two were the kind of sisters who couldn't stand one another," Regina mumbled, sitting down on the couch, "...does that bother you? Knowing that you were his favorite?" "Why was I his favorite?" "...Palmer reminded him of his sister," Regina said, "He and his sister did not get along, and you may have noticed she didn't show up for the services. I think it just...made him uncomfortable. He felt bad about it, if that means anything. He'd tell me constantly how he'd wish he could be closer with her, and how he could be a better dad to her, but he was never really able to overcome that sisterly connection. You, on the other hand, reminded him of me. He loved me, so he adored you." "...but Palmer's good," Dodie said, "I like her." "Well yes, and he did love her, she was his daughter too, but...Dodie, adults are stupid. I'm not gonna be cliche and say 'oh adulthood is complicated' because it isn't and relationships aren't complex or anything. It's actually all very simple, but people tend to overthink and overanalyze things. He loved her. Especially when she was your age, he loved her to death. A lot of people assume their parents play favorites, if they have siblings. Your father was just...more open about it, I guess." Regina stood up and headed back into the kitchen to finish preparing Dodie's lunchbox. Dodie finished eating and watched her show in silence, thinking about her father, and about her sister. What had been so bad about her fathers sister that he couldn't stand being around his own daughter, just because they were somewhat alike? She didn't understand. "Here you go," Regina said as she came back into the living room, lunchbox in hand, "put that in your bookbag." Dodie should've felt happy about being a favorite, but instead she felt ashamed, like she was somehow taking their father away from Palmer in an entirely different way. She tucked the lunchbox into her bookbag and then clipped it shut. Maybe a good day at school would take her mind off the situation, but she doubted it. She thought about their father all the time. *** "Well, for what it's worth, I'm not my fathers favorite," Arthur said. Arthur, Anita and Palmer were all seated in the cafeteria, having ordered in a pizza. They had procured a little table in the corner, far enough away to drive any potential interest in their food off. Anita reached for yet another slice and took a bite as Arthur wiped his mouth on a napkin and shrugged. "Which is somehow even more depressing, as I don't even have siblings," Arthur said, making Anita almost choke on her food. "Damn dude, that is sad," she mumbled, making Palmer laugh a little. "I just feel like he never knew me and he never seemed all that interested in knowing me," Palmer said, "like...like he was somehow ashamed of me or something. Like I did something at some early age to put him off of me entirely for the rest of his life." "Even if you did, which I doubt, I'm certain it wasn't intentional," Anita said. "Yeah, kids are not responsible for their parents shortcomings," Arthur said. Just then a guy in a sweater and tan slacks walked up to the table and tapped Palmer on the shoulder. She looked up at him. "Yeah?" she asked, pushing pizza crust in her mouth. "You have a phone call," he said. Palmer got up and followed him to the nearby phone, then watched as he walked away. She picked up the phone and lifted the receiver to her face. "Hello?" she asked. "I don't think I'm dads favorite," Dodie said. "Oh yeah?" Palmer asked, smirking, happy to hear from her little sister, "and what makes you say that?" "Because if I were dads favorite, he wouldn't have hid that away," Dodie said, "He would've made it really obvious, right? He wouldn't have hidden it in a box somewhere that nobody could find or see." "I don't know, maybe he did it so it wouldn't hurt my feelings," Palmer said, "I'm not about to try and understand dad now. We never understood eachother before." "...well, even if I was his favorite, you're my favorite, so it all evens out," Dodie said, and Palmer felt her heart swell. She had to try hard to keep herself from crying right there in the cafeteria. After the sisters said their goodbyes, Palmer instead left and headed out into the hall, allowing herself to cry a little there. When she was done, she came back inside, rejoined her friends, and continued eating her pizza. At least she was a favorite to someone. *** The thing is...Regina knew the truth. Her husband loved both his daughters, and he may have openly called Dodie his favorite, but she also knew that, secretly, he adored Palmer. Even if she reminded him of his estranged sister, he still adored her. He'd always loved his sister, and having Palmer was sort of like having his sister back. It was tough, sure, but it was also wonderful. The trouble was...he didn't know how to handle her. And as she got older, as she became more of her own woman and not so much daddy's little girl, he began to see the person she would be, and while proud, he was, again, unsure of how to approach her. Lying in bed the night Palmer left again for school, Regina flipped through the little photo album by herself, smiling at all the wonderful memories captured within in, and when she came to the back of the book - the photo of Dodie during Halloween - she pulled that photo off the page and revealed the photo underneath it. Something Palmer somehow hadn't noticed. The photo underneath was of her husbands sister, also during Halloween, when they were kids. She was dressed as a pirate, and that was the photo that the phrasing had originally belonged to. Regina sighed and set the book back down on the bedside table, shut her lamp off and rested her head on her pillow. "Fuck," she mumbled, "...what a mess family is." |