Model Parent

Being married is the best thing that could have ever happened to me. When I proposed, when she said “I do”, it felt as if I were on cloud nine. We were young, in love, and all of that. I know I sound kind of cliche when I talk about my wife, but it's the truth. She’s a beautiful, intelligent, warm, and compassionate woman. 

She was always there for me throughout our college years. I was studying engineering, and she went into teachers' college. We ended up meeting at a party, and I remember feeling so awkward to approach her, but once we started talking to each other, we couldn’t stop.

She was also there for the bad times I’ve experienced, like when I flunked out in my third year. That also happened to be the year that we found out she became pregnant. Even though I was going through such a terrible time, it also happened to be the best time because I found out that I was going to be a father.

Emilia. I loved this woman. Her red lips, her soft melanated skin that glowed, her silky loose curls that framed her face just perfectly. She was carrying our baby, and I wanted to be there for her. I took initiative to begin to get my shit together. 

I took up classes in carpentry, completed the course, and even found a job in the field I trained in. She continued to pursue graduating teacher's college, all while nurturing and having our baby in the process. I encouraged her to finish school because I wanted her to see her thrive, and I did everything in my power to see to that while I was working. 

My parents agreed to take care of our newborn daughter, Baylee, on days when Emilia and I were unable to. They were more than delighted, eager to dote on their new granddaughter. As the gears of life continued to turn, we all made things work. She graduated while I saved up and penny-pinched as much as I could. I promised Emilia that we will buy our first home in a nice area to raise our family. Fifteen years later and we are living that promised reality that we worked hard for.

***

“Fifteen years later. I muttered under my breath, stroking the paintbrush in my hand along the side of my finished Chevy Nova ‘69. I could hear rock music surrounding my workspace, which just so happened to be my garage. I shake my head and adjust my glasses, trying to keep my hand and wrist steady as I paint. The vibration of the music shakes the coffee I’ve been sipping on to a tremble. I can’t work like this. 

I get up from my desk and walk inside the house, greeted by a frustrated expression on Emilia’s face. “Get your daughter before I do.” She grumbles sternly in frustration, and walks away from the staircase and out the door, closing it behind her. 

I go up the stairs to see that her door is wide open. Baylee is not only blasting her music but playing her guitar with it. She was lost in her own world for a moment before she noticed me standing in her doorway. She immediately turned the music down.

“Bay,” I greet her, “you know that these walls are thin. Could you please just keep it down? Your mom is trying to grade her student’s papers, and I just want to paint my model car.” I took my glasses off for a moment to adjust them.

“I just wanted to practice. I'm bored” she explains as she puts her guitar down on its stand. I feel empathy towards her.

“I’ve got an idea.” I lead as I sit down on her bed. She takes her phone out and begins to fiddle on it. Looks like texting, if I had to wager a guess. I hate it when she does this “How about we work on a project together, you and I? We could build a new model car or boat together. I’m almost finishing up with my chevy model, and I figured...” I trailed off my sentence as I realized she continued to keep her attention preoccupied, continuing to text. Her thumbs finally stop.

“Sorry dad, but maybe next time? I’m gonna go over to Heather’s house to practice over there with her.” She picks up her guitar once again and places it in her guitar case, zipping it up. “I might have dinner there, too.” She mentions, moving quickly. She grabs a scrunchie and takes a quick moment to put her long honey brown hair into a high ponytail, and then leaves before I can say anything else. 

Emilia walks into the room, shortly after Baylee left, and sits alongside me. She quietly leans her head on my shoulder, a gentle sigh escaping her. I lean my head against hers, my short chestnut brown hair touching with her gentle curls.

“How was your walk? Seems it helped you to cool down.” I question in a genuine manner, feeling her emotion in the air. 

“It was... calming.” She sighs. “I love her, but she drives me nuts. She seems to always listen to you.” She lifts up her head and looks at me with those beautiful eyes, and it makes me smile, and even chuckle a little bit. I see so much of Baylee in her.

“You two are so similar. Stubborn. With a bit of patience, she’ll come into her own... I hope.” 

Emilia rolls her eyes, stiffens her lip, and takes one of Baylee’s pillows, playfully hitting me with it as we both laugh. I allow myself to fall back on the bed and a sigh escapes me. “Honestly, I miss her when she was younger.” I reminisce out loud, as she lays down next to me. “All she wanted to do was spend time with me. ‘Daddy can we go to the park, daddy let’s play barbies, daddy’...” I trail off and sigh again. 

“I just miss it, spending time with her. I thought maybe putting a model car together would spark her interest. I thought it could be something we could both do together..” I take off my glasses, putting them off to the side, and put my arms around Emelia, bringing her closer to me.

“She’s getting older, Tom. Teenage girls are going to stray away from their fathers someday.” She places her hand on my chest, a solemn look on her face.

I pause for a moment. “I know. She used to be a daddy's girl though, remember? She would help with my models... I mean, they looked terrible after we finished putting them together, but those were the best memories.” I hold Emilia close, and she gently kisses me before sitting up. 

Without a word, she reaches for my hand, and I grab it, letting her pull me up. We both walk out of Baylee’s room, and I take a look back at the room, seeing it all different now. I feel a pang of sadness as I close the door behind me.

***

The weekend is finally here, and it’s my daughter’s fifteenth birthday. We got her a cake and her favourite ice cream and invited a few of her friends over to hang out in our den. Emilia bought her a new iPhone and a few gift cards to her favourite stores and I bought a model car for herself to put together. 

I knew deep down that it wasn’t the greatest gift for a teenage girl, but I made the decision to go with something sentimental this year. I want her to be able to look back on it one day and say “My dad and I put this together,” with pride, and even just the thought alone makes me smile. I even decided to buy her the car of her dreams; a pink Beetle, that I even had the cashier to gift wrap from the hobby store. 

Later on that night, Baylee blows out her candles, and Emilia starts to cut the cake for everyone as I rounded up some gifts to give to her. Baylee takes one of them and reads the card before tearing open the gift she received from Sam. I always saw Sam as a nice kid.

“Awe!” Baylee proclaims in joy and surprise. “Thanks, Sam!” Baylee holds up her brand new M.A.C makeup palette, smiling ear to ear. 

She reads another card. She never reads them out loud, she felt it was personal. She tears up, and goes over to Emilia, giving her a heartfelt hug. “Thanks, mom. I love you, too.”

Emilia holds her and kisses her forehead, then flashes her a soft smile. “Love you too, Bay”. 

Baylee opens Emilia’s gift, which reveals to be the newest rose gold iPhone on the market. “I love it! Thank you so much, mom” She proclaims, starry-eyed. She puts the brand new phone aside, going for the next gift. My gift. 

She opens the card and reads it, and my eyes follow hers as she smiles and laughs. I added a dad joke, I just couldn’t help myself. She looks up and over to me. “Dad, you’re such a sap.” She chuckles out.

“I mean every word I said in there.” I smile with pride. She opens my gift slowly, piece by piece revealing the box of her pink 2001 Beetle, and I watch her intently, gauging her reaction. I could tell that a look of disappointment grew across her face quickly. 

“Thanks, Dad.” she puts the gift to the side, quickly moving on. I sunk my head low, feeling her own disappointment in myself, but I continue to watch her opening the rest of her gifts. 

***

After the party, Baylee was upstairs, preoccupied with her phone, while Emilia and I cleaned the den. Emilia’s holding the garbage, as I gather empty coke and sprite cans. 

“I just felt that my gift was sentimental. I’d hoped she’d want to spend time with me again.” I told Emilia as we cleaned. 

“Maybe you should just talk to her? That could help.” She ties up the garbage bag. “Just explain what you told me. You miss spending time with her.” 

Her words resonate with me. “Alright, I will go talk to her”. I give her a kiss on the cheek and begin to take the stairs all the way to the third floor. I reminisce as I pass pictures on the walls, of us as a family. One was of me holding her on the slide at the park, and another with cake on her face for her first birthday. Another was of her and I put together a Ford Mustang, the glue was everywhere, but she was six at the time. She was such a happy kid. 

I walked toward her bedroom, her door open, and I leaned against the doorway. She looked over at me. “Yeah?” 

I anxiously put my hands in my pockets “Can we talk?” I asked, walking over to her bed to sit down. She swung around her computer chair, taking off her headphones. “I know you’re disappointed by my gift, but I just wanted to give you something that we can both do together. In a couple years, you’ll be off to college, and I just want to bond with you doing something that you used to like doing with me.” 

“Dad... you know what? Let's put it together right now.” She stated, getting up to grab the model car from her bookcase. 

I do my best to hide my surprise. “Sure, let’s go to the garage” I get up, following her out of her room.

***

In the garage, we set out the pieces together. I’m reading instructions and she follows my word. 

“So, you only want a little bit of glue, not that much... I’ll do it.” I take over. 

“Dad, I can do it if you’d let me try.” She proclaims. 

I give her back the glue and let her take over. I tell her to put the motor together, she starts by connecting the carburetor together, then the engine halves. She tries to put the cylinder head together and she gets frustrated. 

“These pieces aren’t right!” She yells. 

“Are you sure? Parts 209 and 210...” I muttered, looking at the instructions. I know she’s struggling, so I take over. “Here, I’ll do it.” I take the parts from her. 

“Whatever, I’m done anyways. You always take over!” She gets up and slams her stool in frustration. I put the pieces down and follow her. 

I find her in her room, lying face down on her bed. “Bay? I wasn’t taking over.” I protested. 

“I didn’t even want to do this stupid model with you because I knew you’d take over!” She sits up, tears forming. “I don’t even like models!”

“I just want to spend time with you!” I adjust my glasses. 

“No! It's something that you want to do. Never something that I want to do!” Baylee shouted, frustrated.

“Bay, I’m sorry... I...” I looked down at the open model box in my hand and sighed. I put it back on her shelf and left. 

Emilia was waiting by the stairs. “What’s wrong? I heard you guys.” She holds my hand, gripping it tight. 

“I think I... I didn’t realize I was so focused on what I wanted to do with her, not what she wanted to do with me. I just need to go for a drive.” I kissed her forehead and left. 

***

It’s raining. Harsh winds, huge droplets banging against my window. I leave my room, closing the door behind me, and go downstairs. I see my mom washing dishes so I offer to help. She hands me a towel along with a plate. 

“So, your father seemed upset.” she rinses the dish in her hand. 

“I just feel like he’s been pushing me to do something that I don’t want to. We tried to put it together, but he took over, like always.” I put the dried dish on the rack, and she hands me another. 

She turns off the water before responding. “He just wants to have something that you both do. You know how sentimental he can be.” 

“Well, why can’t we do something that I enjoy?” I protested. 

“Sweetheart,” she responds, putting away the last dish. “He just wants you to bond with him and have something to pass down.” Her cell phone rings and she picks it up. As she went into the living room, I followed. Her face is in complete shock as if she’d seen a spider, something that she is petrified of. It’s far worse than that. 

“We need to go to the hospital, right now!” She scrambles to grab our coats and throws one at me. 

***

My mom asked the nurse where my dad was. The nurse tells us to go to the emergency room on the fifth floor. Mom told me to stay in the waiting room, and then quickly left for the elevator. I found a chair to sit on. I watch the muted tv screen showing the news, and then look over to people waiting to see a doctor or nurse. 

I pulled out my old phone, looking through my pictures. Scrolling through, I saw a few of my dad and me. One of him and I riding our bikes. Us hugging at my talent show; my first time playing my guitar for an audience. Then, one of us in the garage, putting together our first model car. I was just six, the glue covering my hands. A tear drops down onto my phone. Mom calls for me, and I look up, trying to stifle my cry. She immediately holds me tight and cries into my shoulder. 

“Bay, sweetie, daddy was in a car accident. He had to be pulled out, no one died but he needs surgery.”

I feel my words caught in my chest. “Is he going to be okay?” 

“He has internal bleeding, but they’re gonna take care of that. They hope the surgery will be successful, but there could be complications.”

“Complications?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Mom pulled a tissue out of her purse to give me. She always knew what I needed. “He might not survive, Bay. They are doing the surgery now, we just have to wait.” My mom held my hand tight, and I wiped my tears. “I’ll take you home, you need some rest.” 

I nod. I have no words to say.

***

I walk into my room and sit down on my computer chair. I spin around, looking up at the ceiling. Thoughts keep crossing my mind, the things that I’ve said to him. Things that he’s said to me. Over and over. Tears escaped from my eyes, I can’t believe this could be the last time I sat with him, talk to him. I shouldn’t have called his hobby stupid, I should’ve been happy to spend time with him. 

I wiped my tears, but that was no good. I kept bawling. I look towards my shelf. Books, movies, and old CDs of mine lined up against my records. I also see where my dad put my birthday gift. All he wanted was to spend time with me putting this together. I want to be close to him again. 

I got up from my chair and grabbed the box. I head towards the garage, where he works best, and turn on the lights to see his desk, filled with paints and stains, shelves filled with cars and trains, and planes hanging from the ceiling. This is where he’s in his element, the need to be close to him strong. I sat down on his special cushioned stool and began putting together the model he bought me. Just like dad did.

The end