𝐕𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐔𝐑 {𝟏𝟖+}

III

"Paris, for a few weeks." My dad informed me, folding his clothes and placing them in his suitcase, which he had barely unpacked two weeks earlier. Being a construction manager, he was often away for long stretches of time, and I hadn't been fond of his job during my childhood, since it hadn't allowed me to see him every day, without counting Skype. I had, however, appreciated his numerous gifts and treats, and I'd always cherished our moments spent together for, no matter how brief, they'd always been magical.

I nodded, sitting on the edge of his bed and watching him pack. I'd seen him do that so many times that my mind automatically associated the act of packing with my father. As soon as I would hear or read that word, Joaquin Reyes would pop into my head, bent over one of his suitcases with a concentrated frown plastered on his face. "Now I wish I would've taken some time off from studying to come to visit you more." I muttered, the corners of my lips turning downwards in dismay. At least it hadn't been for nothing: I'd aced my exams.

He glanced at me and shook his head. "No, mi corazón. You did what you had to do, and I couldn't be more proud of you. Besides, I will be taking some time off at the end of the summer, and I'll still see you when I'll get back. Sounds good?" He smiled brightly, his brown eyes filled with love and pride, and he stepped away from his task to give me a hug.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and hugged him back tightly, pressing my cheek against his chest and listening to his regular heartbeat. Moments like this reminded me of how much I resented my mom's decision to get a divorce, since it drastically cut down the already limited time we could spend together. It wasn't fair. "Sounds great. When are you leaving?"

"First thing in the morning." He answered, kissing me on the top of my head before detaching and walking back to his closet, picking out a couple of pajama sets and setting them down on the bed, where he was piling up his sleepwear and underwear. "Tell you what, we'll order some Chinese food and we'll eat over a movie of your choice before I drop you off, okay? It's not the restaurant dinner I had in mind, but it's something." Dad conceded, sending me an apologetic look. He probably still failed to realize that what mattered to me was his love and attention, not the materialistic things he could offer me. "Anyway, how's your mom?"

I sighed and shrugged, bringing my legs up and sitting criss-cross applesauce. I couldn't get that damn saying out of my head. "She's okay. She dyed her hair black again. To be honest, I was kinda tired of that red." I admitted, something I never would've dared to do in front of her. Red had been her go-to color since the divorce, and I had the feeling that it held some significance to her. Maybe now that she'd gone back to black, she was also ready to see her mistake and fix it.

"She's always looked good no matter what." Was his response, which came from a place of love. Despite being divorced for three years, he still carried her in his heart. And wallet, right next to a picture of me. "Although I do prefer her with her natural hair, so I'm with you on this one. You know, the first time I saw her, she had this luscious mane of black hair styled in big waves and her lips were painted red. She was singing at this bar I usually avoided. In fact, it was my first time going there, I preferred another spot, but ever since that night, I started going there all the time, hoping that she'd notice me." He recounted, eyes shining dreamily as he relived one of the occurrences that changed his life.