Tolerance || Daddy's Home

Hard Beginnings

Family is tricky. Some have great families, others not so great with a missing parent or both. And some are dysfunctional that appear to have no ways of fixing.

Luckily for me that was not the case. For a while it was just me and my dad, Brad Whitaker. He may not be my biological father but he is the best thing I had since my parents gave me away.

Adjusting to Brad wasn't hard at all. My parents handed me off when I was young, Brad adopted me, and sure we had our ups and downs, but nothing too major.

It was a small family but one nonetheless.

That is until Sara Mayron— a recently divorce mom that came along with two kids.

At first I was excited to finally have siblings and a mom. Then that excitement quickly faded.

You see, Sara doesn't exactly know how to act around me.

Greeting me right at the door Sara stood smiling, "Hey, Emilia, what's up? How's school? Any boyfriends? I'm more of a cool mom so if anything you can talk to me."

Not having any news to tell her I smiled waking past her. She was quick to follow, rambling on about her time in school, all the way to my room. Sara stood outside my door with a strained smile. From inside my room I simply watched her speak. She has some good stories but nothing I could say to add on. My schools life is definitely more boring than hers. Eventually she left holding her hands together, fiddling with her fingers.

I think me being a teenager throws her off because at other times she's more...

   "Oh, my gosh. I seriously can't with you. It's like walking on eggshells when you come into the room. Please just talk once in a while." She groaned throwing down her rag she used to clean to the kitchen.

I simply watched not sure how to answer back to her. Not wanting to add to her anger I continued to quietly eat my cereal. Sara huffed and walked out the kitchen.

I appreciate her patience with me, I do, and I have nothing against her. It's just, well, I don't speak much in general. Perhaps that's something I should tell her before the poor women believes I hate her.

Then there is Megan and Dylan. They're cool, I guess. We have quite an age gap that really makes me feel like a babysitter more than a sister.

I can't really complain. Not when my dad has the worse end of it. He's just some guy in their house to them.

While having breakfast dad happily made his step-kids lunches. He went on and on about a dream he had and what it could mean. That's when Dylan walked in.

   "Hey, Dylan! Good morning." Dad greeted, with a bright smile.

Dylan simply walked past him saying, "Whatever."

The usual.

Dad always shrugs it off as him being a bad morning person. Later came his sister, Megan, with a drawing in hand. Fun fact: she's been drawing these family picture with my dad dead and me not even there.

A bit harsh in my opinion.

   "Good morning, Mr. Whitaker. Good morning, Emilia." Megan said.

I nodded giving her a small wave taking another spoonful of non-sugar cereal— all thanks to my dad for the healthy breakfast.

   "Good morning, Megan." Dad said in a soft voice. He adores these children. It's a bittersweet thing to witness.

   "Can you put this on the fridge?" She asked handing him a yellowish paper.

Dad took it examining the new drawing. "Well, sure. Did you do another drawing of our family?"

Megan hummed going over to dad's kneeled side and explaining her drawing.

   "... and standing all alone is Emilia. And, over here, far far away is you."

Dad glanced up with a yet another smile. This was the first time Megan drew me in one. It's real sweet and a huge upgrade. This is great progress.

   "Oh? And am I wearing a baseball cap?"

   "That's the knife in you're head 'cause I was killing you in the eye."

   "Lovely." I commented. If I ever done that dad would've sent me to therapy.

Megan grinned. Another win for me that is the first time she direct a smile at me, a small one but it's a smile.

   "Oh, I see. Well, I love how you drew my hair." Dad complimented.

   "That's poop."

   "Well, it's well-drawn. And I'm guessing it's dog poop?"

   "That's homeless man poop." She answered from the kitchen table.

Dad flipped the paper to fully show me the oh so wonderful drawing. I took it looking over the figures representing the family.

   "She's creative I'll give her that." I said, letting out a chuckle handing back the paper.

   "I love it." Dad said momentarily placing the paper on the counter and walking with two plates holding Megan and Dylan's breakfast. Dad motioned for me to move from the kitchen counter to the table.

   "And nothing's wrong with that."

Taking my bowl I took a seat in front of Dylan. The glass plates clattering with the wooden table as he served breakfast. A lazy thank you came from both digging in. Dad went back to the kitchen only to come back with the cereal box in hand. I'm a two-to-three pours of cereal type of gal. One serving just never hits the spot.

"Can I have some?"

I looked up to see the big doe eyes on Megan staring at the cereal. I looked at her plates and passed over the box handing her a new bowl and spoon.

Nothing like greens to make a kid feel excited for school. I swear even when having raised a kid dad doesn't know much. No kid happily eats their vegetables especially in morning before school.

Having that in thought I grabbed another bowl and spoon for Dylan. The boy thanked me taking the plate out of my hand. He definitely was awake now rathe than when he was playing around with the piece of asparagus.

As I made my way back to my seat Sara walked down the stairs.

I pursed my lips into an awkward smile waving at her. She smiled saying an out of breath, "good morning," before focusing back on dad.

Either way, we're trying to adjust. All of us. 

With time things will smooth out I just know it.