France's Daughter // Hetalia

Chapter Nine- Crying Too Much Makes My Eyes Hurt

Charlotte (Charlie, Lottie)

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"P-Papa?", I whisper, my eyes wide in disbelief. 

There he is- but he looks so different. My Papa, the one always obsessed with looks, always keeping up in the latest fashion, is dressed in a tattered sweater, with disheveled hair combating mine in terms of slovenliness. His beard has grown a bit, a five o-clock shadow over lining his sharp stubble. He hasn't shaved in a while. His eyes are lined with black shadows- he's so tired.. but a sparkle of hope gleams in his iris when we make eye contact. I look away quickly, and realize there's no recovering from what I just spilled to Matthew. 

"You missed me?", Papa asks weakly, taking a step forwards.

Silence.

"Matthew there's a new, uh, dog.. kennel.. do you wanna go check it-"

"Yes please."

The two quickly scramble out the door, and the slam they leave behind leaves me and Papa alone, for the first time in a whole year. I knew I missed him, but not this much. It wasn't until I saw those blue eyes that I was brought back to my childhood.. when everything was so much simpler. I miss his guidance.. I miss him breathing down my neck, I miss going to the cafe with him.

"Why are you here?", I ask, not letting my walls crumble just yet. "You kicked me out..."

"Oui, and I regret it, ma cherie.."

I stare at him, and sit down on the couch. I don't know what to say. He notices, and starts to take lead on the conversation. I remember he taught me how to, when he was explaining how to be a good hostess, but right now, every lesson leaves me bewildered.

"I missed you too..", He smiles, sitting down next to me. "I've thought about you every single day since you left."

"Then why didn't you call?", I turn to him, scooting only an inch away. "I waited for your call, I expected your call every single day."

He pauses, and I think I caught him, but I realize that he just needed time to hold back tears.

"I thought you hated me. I thought you never wanted to hear my voice again."

I bite my lip, and stand up, heading towards the kitchen. He follows me with my eyes, and I come back out with a box of Cheeze-itz. I throw them towards him, and he catches with ease. He's always had good reflexes. 

"Eat them. It's good comfort food."

Normally, he'd snap at me. Tell me not to order him around, that comfort food is awful for you, and that he'd never subject his body to such garbage. But today, he opens the box, and takes a handful, stuffing them in his mouth. 

"Papa, Bryce left me..", I say quietly, sitting down next to him again. "He wanted to have sex. He got so impatient and after two years just.. left. Just like that."

He looks at me, and says with a half-full mouth, "Over the phone, huh?"

I nod, biting my trembling lip. I gently tap both cheeks with my palms to keep from sobbing. I don't want to seem sensitive around Papa. I want him to see how much I've matured and grown without him.

"Mon cherie, come here", he sets the box to the side, holding out his arms.

I accept the gesture, hugging him tightly and taking in his all too familiar scent- Wine and roses. Even at a young age, I learned to associate liquor and flowers with Papa. I haven't been held in his arms in too long- far too long.

"Je t'aime", he whispers in my ear, holding onto me tighter than before. 

I take in a sharp breath, finally letting the tears I've been holding back soak his shirt. He doesn't seem to mind though. As I sob, he stroked my hair, whispers sweet nothings into my ear, kisses the top of my head.. I never want to part from him again. I never want to leave Papa.

"Je t'aime", I finally whisper back, through shaky breaths. "Je suis désolé.."

I feel him nod, and I mentally thank him for not replying. If I heard his voice right now, I'm not sure I'd ever stop crying. 

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Later... 7pm, France (Francis)

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Just as England said. Only two days after Charlotte's departure did I start agonizing over every little thing. I even cleaned out the attic, looking through all of Charlotte's baby photos and bottles and clothes. She used to be so tiny and delicate.. I even went through her room. I knew I shouldn't have, but seeing all the dresses she left behind and all the gifts I and the others got her made me so emotional. I never moved any of her stuff. It's still the same as it was a year ago.. maybe a bit dusty. 

I forgive her, for everything, but I can never forgive myself. I pushed her to become this perfect woman, but I never considered her feelings. I always thought that if I raised her right, she'd never have doubts about herself. I never would have imagined she run off with a pimp and abandon everything I ever taught her. But, if it weren't for my excessive demands and stressful teachings, she wouldn't have searched for freedom in the arms of an asshole. 

After she left, I did some reminiscing about Joan. Well, at England's request (who has started living with me to compensate for Charlie's absence), I searched into Charlotte's origins. Her real parents live only five miles away from my house, and as much as I hoped they were negligent and horrible people, they're actually very successful and have two kids of their own, born eight years after Charlotte was. I guess they just weren't ready for a child yet.. Just why wouldn't they go to a foster home?

Well, after doing some more digging, and uncovering hundreds of documents and papers, I found something that changed my whole world view.

Charlotte and Joan have no blood correlation. 

They're not related at all! I had no idea- After all these years, I always thought it was the will of Joan's ghost for me to take Charlotte in. I never once considered the possibility of just being there at the right place and the right time. Sixteen years ago, if I had known she wasn't one of Joan's descendants, I would have dropped her off at a home. I wouldn't have taken her in.. but when I found out, I wasn't at all angry or disappointed.

 Hell, I was relieved. 

And now, I feel so happy. With her in my arms, Everything is okay. I just want her back home. I want her back, so, so bad..

How am I going to let her go in two years..?