Happy Wants a Hug

Chapter 5: The First Want

 Rebecca and Don silently put away the leftovers and loaded the dishwasher. Their kitchen reflected the rest of their house. Modern, put together, clean. Wooden boards held up white marble countertops and gray-black cabinets. The island that sat neatly in the center of the room had enough space to prepare two dinners at once. Everything inside the kitchen, as well as the rest of the house, was uniformly spaced, chosen to match the decor, and regularly cleaned.

 There was an awkwardness between them as the setting sun splashed the kitchen in a dimming red glow. An awkwardness not like what was normal. Rebecca occasionally glanced over at Don who did not return the gesture. He was hand washing the same cup he had been absent mindedly washing for the past ten minutes. Rebecca broke the silence.

 "She didn't mean it you know. She's just a kid. Kid's say horrible things they don't mean."

 "Yeah. Maybe. or maybe she did."

 There was silence again. Rebecca was unsure of what to say. Should she lie and say that there's no conceivable way that Lilly meant that horrible thing? She probably didn't, but there was no way to reach into Lilly's head and pluck out the truth. Just last week she heard a story on the news of a ten year old boy in Austin Texas that stabbed his mother thirty five times in the chest before cutting his little brothers legs off. All because his mom got his little brother the toy he wanted for Christmas. If that ten year old boy told his mom to go kill herself, would he have not meant it?

 Granted Lilly was no psychopath. That much Rebecca was fairly certain of. Sure, that episode of running herself into the mirror was strange, but surely it didn't mean anything further than that. Surely. Right?

 Don spoke, breaking Rebecca out of these worrisome thoughts, of which she was grateful.

 "Maybe I'm too hard on her." he said, staring out the kitchen window at the red setting sun, "Maybe I'm just simply wrong in my approach. I guess I really don't understand kids. I thought I did, thought I remembered how it was to be one. But. . .see my dad wouldn't even talk to me about it. If idda talked to him that way or if i was playing with dolls at twelve. He woulda just slapped some sense into me. Woulda brought out the belt and just start swinging. He called it spanking but the welts on my face and neck disagreed with the term. He was a rough man. My father. Strong, but rough. I coulda turned out like that you know. But I didn't."

 "There's no Wasn't As Big of an Asshole as I Could've Been award, Don. I'm glad you didn't turn out like your father. I know you have respect for the man but you know how much I hated that miserable old fuck."

 Don laughed, "Yeah, he wasn't too much of a fan of you either. The beatings I use to receive for sneaking out of the room to go see you. I wasn't even a teenager either, this was after the military. I was a goddamn grown man and he still had to have the final say in what I did."

 "He held on too hard." Rebecca said, suggesting a double meaning.

 "Yeah, maybe he did. I don't know though. This is different. I've never hit Lilly. I never would hit Lilly. I don't care if she goes out and hangs with friends or what not. I just want to make sure she's prepared for the hard road ahead. Life will kick you in the teeth if you're not prepared for it. and playing with dolls ain't gonna make you prepared."

 "Life isn't that rough, Don. Not for everyone."

 "I remember I use to be super big into movies. Did I ever tell you that? Every other Saturday some scary movie would pop on at eleven. Of course my father would never let me watch it so I would have to sneak it every time. Eventually, when I got old enough to watch things without permission, it became almost an obsession of mine. Especially war movies. That's what made me want to join the air force. War movies. Seeing Tom Hanks soaring threw the skies and thinking I want that to be me. Of course in real life most airmen barely even step foot in a plane. Certainly not a fast one like in the movies.