Then Now Always

Chapter 2

THEN

Daisy

"I'M SORRY, KIDDO. I didn't know it was going to be this run down," my dad sighs. In the last few months, it feels like he's aged a decade. Not yet forty, but the signs of aging already mark his features. Gray strands weave through his hairline, wrinkles trace smile smiles, and his eyes carry a weight that contradicts his years.

"It's okay. I mean it's not too bad," I reassure him, eyeing the run-down cottage with broken windows and peeled green paint on the front door. It could be worse. We could be homeless. Or worse still, still living with my mom.

"I'll get this fixed up," he promises, yet there's no mistaking the tinge of sadness in his voice.

Something to keep in mind about my dad is that he's a man of his word, no matter what. When he promised to take me to the zoo on my fifth birthday, it's all I was looking forward to for weeks in advance. So when I woke up in the early hours of the morning of my birthday to find my mom crashing into walls and singing at the top of her lungs, I just knew that my birthday probably wasn't going to happen the way I'd imagined it, with the three of us feeding giraffes.

My mom was having one of her moments as dad liked to call them back then, because what else do you tell your five-year-old about their mom who was a resounding alcoholic?

My dad ushered me back to bed, tucked me in, kissed me on the forehead and went to deal with my mom like he did every other time. When I woke up a few hours later, it was raining. And it wasn't the pitter patter you could just ignore and hope it would dwindle away in an hour or so.

It was pouring. Sheets of rain cascaded down, hiding our driveway from view.

"We're going to the zoo! We're going to the zoo." I ran out into the living room where I found my mom passed out on her side on the upholstered olive sofa.

"Ugh, shh," she groaned, pulling a square pillow and dragged it over her head, her matted brown hair falling like a dark curtain around her face.

My dad was in the kitchen, his jaw set tightly, but when he saw me, he painted a massive smile on his face, walked over to me and scooped me up in his arms showering me with kisses on my head. "Happy Birthday, Pumpkin."

He smelled like sweet pancakes and pine needles—a weird combination if I think about it now. Yet, back then, it seemed right. Just the way it was supposed to be.

"Do you want to have breakfast first or open your presents?" he asked even though he already knew what my answer would be.

"Presents!"

He set me down and pulled out a box wrapped in bubblegum pink wrapping paper with a glittery gold bow, probably bigger than my head. My eyes grew wide, and I grinned, scrunching up my face.

I didn't bother carefully opening the present, I tore the paper open wildly. And there it was. A giant painting easel—just like the one my dad had in his painting room. Alongside the easel, there was a giant pack with acrylic paints ranging with different colors from brights to darks, metallics and glitters.

"Wow. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I can't wait to paint with you!" I clung to my dad's waist and then rushed over to mom even though she hadn't even wished me a happy birthday yet, but that didn't matter because this was already the best day ever. I got the present that I wanted for the longest time and we were going to go to the zoo.

"Thank you so much, mom. This is the best present ever!" I cuddled up to her even though she smelled like cigarettes and dried up vomit. I was used to it though, she smelled like that on most mornings, but by the time it was evening and the sun settled, she had showered and washed her hair.