1950
Photograph #2: The Beach
Fletcher was awoken by the sound of a car honking on the street outside. It was the only downside to having the window open overnight; the morning traffic. It was nice to have the window open for once though. He usually kept it closed, having the air conditioning unit in the living room move the air through the house instead.
Usually, he couldn't leave the window open overnight. His house was right next to the street and very close to Downtown Toontown, specifically the bars and night clubs. The proximity to those is why he chose this house to begin with. A few years ago, he would be spending all night at the bars until they shut down. Being so close, he could simply stagger back home, not having to worry about paying for a taxi, getting busted for driving drunk, or hassling with the trolley. But at this point in time, he almost regretted being so close. All the drunkards, party-goers, and clubbers walked along the road back to wherever they lived. They were always loud, cursing, and talking about rather vulgar topics that shouldn't be overheard by a three-year old. It was for that reason the window was always closed overnight.
Glancing down to his side, he could see that his daughter was still asleep. She was cuddled up next to him, thumb in her mouth, and clutching her plush. He couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle looking at the raggedy thing. She saw it last year when they were at a store and wanted to have it. She explained, as best as a two-year-old could, that it looked like his character, Br'er Fox. He didn't think it looked anything like him, but didn't bother to tell her that. She had decided to name it Bri. Because she thought it looked like his character, she wanted to name it after him as well. Except it sounded more like Briar instead of Br'er. And at two, she couldn't pronounce that right either.
She was the reason why the bedroom window was open. At about 3:30 in the morning, she had woken him up by crying. When he went to check on her, she was upset about having had an accident. She was currently in the middle of being potty-trained and she still had her ups and downs. When she was awake, she was great about it; she'd let him know when she had to go and was good about doing what she needed to do. She still needed help, but for the most part, everything was good. Nighttime was a completely different story, however. She almost always seemed to have an accident overnight. He'd tried everything he could think of to help her with it; no more drinks after six o' clock and even waking her up periodically in the night to use the bathroom. The latter only lasted a few days, however. Neither of them were getting enough sleep, causing her to be cranky the next day and him having trouble focusing at work.
He took off her nightgown and undergarments and threw them in the washer with her sheets and blankets, thankful that automatic machines were starting to pop up. He had cleaned her off in the tub quickly, still upset, and put her into clean clothes. Too tired to try to put her back to bed, he let her sleep in his bed. He noticed the time, noting that most of the party-goers usually went through about 2 and opened the window to allow the cool California breeze to blow through. He made a mental note to ask Riley what he could do the next time he went into work; he just finished the same experience with his own daughter not too long ago.
He turned to look at the clock on the nightstand; 9:27. Well, at least he got to sleep in a little later than he thought. Quietly getting out of bed, he rummaged through his dresser and pulled out his swimsuit; a dark blue pair of trunks and a plaid light blue shirt. Today, after being asked every time they went by it, he was taking Farryn to the beach. He was always hesitant to take her, afraid that something would happen. But after thinking it over, he finally decided to take her. She had no idea they were going and would be ecstatic once she found out.
He hopped in the shower and quickly took a five-minute rinse. Once he became famous, he would take extremely long showers. He would shampoo and wash twice, ensuring that every inch of fur was soft, shiny, and clean. After all, there were many women pining after him; he had to look his very best to impress them. However, that changed once he became a father. He learned VERY quickly that taking anything longer than five minutes was not possible with a baby. When he finished, he checked on her and went downstairs to the kitchen to prepare lunch.
Lunch was going to be small; he planned on eating dinner on the actual pier. He made two sandwiches; a ham and cheddar one for him and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, with no crust, for her. Two small bags of chips and a cookie each finished off lunch. He put a juice pack in for her and several bottles of water. It was supposed to be hot today and he didn't want either of them to become dehydrated. It had happened to him once when he drank too much liquor. Ended up in the hospital after passing out. It wasn't a fun experience and he'd rather not go through it again.
While he was finishing packing, his ears picked up the soft sound of shuffling across the floor. When he turned towards the sound, his mouth turned upwards into a soft smile. Farryn was up and had made her way down to the kitchen, gripping the arm of her doll and tiredly rubbing her eyes.
"Well, Good Morning munchkin!"
She didn't say anything, instead continuing to rub her eyes before she ran up to him and began to cling onto his legs. It was a habit he was trying to break her of. She is very shy, probably from him trying to keep her out of the spotlight, and usually clings to him whenever anyone talks to her. She was starting to become a little more open since she learned how to talk, but she still had her moments. He picked her up and she immediately buried her face into his shoulder.
"What's wrong, kiddo? Why are you so clingy this morning?" He heard her mumble into his shirt, not catching what she said.
"I can't hear what you say when you do that." She turned her face towards him and looked at him with sad eyes.
"You mad."
"I'm mad? I'm not mad. Why would you think that?"
"Mad last night."
"I wasn't mad. I was just….tired." He sighed. He really WASN'T mad; he was just frustrated. She was trying but it was starting to take a toll on both of them and he was just about at wits end trying to figure out what to do. He tried not to show his frustration, but sometimes it slipped out when he was tired. Readjusting his arms, he held her so that she now had to look at him.
"Look. It was just an accident wasn't it?" She nodded her head slowly, unsure where this was going. "I'm not mad. I know you're not meaning to do it. I'm just tired. You did wake me at three, after all." She looked down again, thinking that she would get in trouble for that.
"Still love me?" She asked looking back up at him. What a silly thing to ask. She asked him that almost every time she did something wrong. Almost like she was afraid that he would one day stop loving her.
"Of course I do! If I didn't, you think I would do this?" He asked, before leaning towards her and giving her lots of kisses all over. This caused her to start laughing and she hugged him tightly. He stopped his 'attack' and watched as she slowed down her giggling.
"Daddy, what's that for?" She asked, lifting her head up. He followed the direction of her finger and saw that she was pointing at the picnic basket. "Are we going somewhere?"
"We are, honey! You know how you're always asking about the beach?" Her eyes immediately lit up and a large smile spread across her small face.
"We really going?"
"Sure are!" He winced slightly when she started squealing with joy in his ear and began to bounce in his arms.
"Come on Daddy! We gotta go to beach!" He chuckled at her delight and put her back down, as he was struggling to hold her with her wiggling so much. He grabbed her arm when she started to run out of the kitchen.
"Hold on a second, kiddo. Don't you want to eat breakfast?"
"No. Wanna go to beach!"
"Are you sure? It's going to be awhile before we eat."
"Yes! Wanna go now!"
"Alright alright! Go get your swimsuit and I'll be there in a minute to help you."
She didn't say anything as she sped out of the kitchen as fast as her little legs would allow her. He shook his head, laughing quietly, and grabbed a couple of granola bars. He knew that within a few minutes she would be saying that she was hungry; as so was the life of having a toddler. He tossed them in the basket along with a package of cigarettes, his lighter, and his camera, a square, bulky box, before going upstairs to help her get ready.
~XXXX~
Packing the granola bars? A good idea. Taking the bus? Not one of my best.
Toontown, much like Los Angeles, had all kinds of transportation available. There were the trolleys, busses, streetcars, taxis, Red Cars, and soon there was going to be new freeways not only in Southern California, but all across the country as well. And yet, Fletcher had the brilliant idea to take the longest mode of transportation there was.
He hated dealing with taxis and while she loved riding all the streetcars and trolleys, he didn't really like having to change lines so many times, especially once they left Toontown. Either of those options would've been faster than the bus though. He'd decided on the bus because there was a direct line from Toontown over to Santa Monica pier, figuring it would be less of a hassle.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
For starters, by the time the bus arrived at their stop, it was almost completely full with passengers. Apparently, they all had the same idea as him about going to the beach. He hated making her stand on the bus; she was too little to really hold on to the railings and she would start to complain pretty quickly about her legs hurting. Holding her while standing wasn't much better. She was big enough now that he couldn't hold her with one arm for the entire one hour ride.
There also weren't many options for sitting. Most of the seats were taken, leaving single seats open. He thought about trying to use his celebrity status to get someone to up and offer them a second seat, but thought better of it. The toons on this particular bus didn't seem all too interested in who he was and he would rather not get into a fight with his daughter right there.
Which was why he was now squished between two rather large toons while Farryn sat in his lap, looking at all the interesting characters around her. It didn't help that every time the bus jerked to a stop, the one on his right would ram into his shoulder.
Because so many people were going to the beach, it meant that the bus would have to stop at every single stop between their home and Santa Monica beach. Out of all the beaches in the L.A area, why did everyone want to go to the same one? Santa Monica wouldn't have been his first choice. He remembered how glamorous the pier used to be back when he was young in the 1930s. The old coaster had long since been torn down and the dance hall had been shuttered. Both humans and toons started going to the various other options, such as Long Beach and Malibu. However, a brand new arcade had just opened at the pier and he figured that she would enjoy that.
When they had barely stepped onto the bus, she said she was hungry. Glad he thought to bring them, he offered her a granola bar. Apparently she didn't want granola; she wanted pancakes. He made things worse when he told her that if she wanted pancakes, she should've said something before they left the house. This caused her to start throwing a tantrum, loud enough to be heard over the noises of the bus and causing some passengers to watch them. Ignoring them, he promised they could get ice cream later if she ate the bar now. As soon as she heard the 'magic words', she stopped crying and ate the granola without any further disruptions. Sometimes he wondered if she only did that just to get what she wanted.
About halfway through the hour trip, the toon on his right had gotten off and he almost sighed in relief; his shoulder was starting to hurt from being hit so many times. Another toon, a tall human woman, came and sat in the empty seat next to him. He put on his best charming smile, lifting his sunglasses as he did so. He might be a father now, but that didn't stop him from flirting with a pretty lady. She smiled at him, before she suddenly frowned and curled her lip. The sudden change in demeanor startled him until he felt Ryn cling to him. He glanced down and saw that this woman had pulled her arm away, as if she just touched something absolutely repulsive. He narrowed his eyes in response, put his arms around Farryn, and turned to look towards the front. He didn't care how good someone looked; no one treated his daughter as if she was a disgusting being.
Of course, he knew there would be issues the moment he took her in. The moment she showed up at his door, only hours old, he knew everything would change. Despite being a celebrity, he didn't exactly have the best reputation. After his only film was released, he very quickly earned a reputation as being an alcoholic, drug-addicted, womanizing 'has-been.' He had gotten sent to jail numerous times, mostly for running his mouth and fighting others. And to make matters worse, he received a letter from the studio telling him to, essentially 'get his act together' or he would be without a job. He had been struggling trying to find another studio to work for but they wouldn't touch someone with his reputation.
It was around this time that she had shown up on his doorstep with a note and birth certificate pinned to the blanket. The letter explained that her mother was an old girlfriend of his; the two had a quick reunion when she had been visiting L.A after moving away once the two broke up after high school. The talks very quickly moved to flirting, before ending with an intimate lovemaking session. She had left in the morning without saying a word. This letter expanded on that; she was already married. She discovered she was pregnant and managed to keep it hidden until her husband left 'for business'. Wanting to avoid word getting around in their city, she came back to L.A to have the child and gave her to him. Her letter only asked of him one thing; that he kept her identity a secret.
Thus, the problematic, addicted has-been was now a single parent. He ended up getting help for his issues, allowing him to keep his job, but being constantly in the spotlight, word got around VERY quickly about this child. Society was fickle; any and every one was expected to be married before having children. It's how it always had been. An unwed mother was a taboo and disgraced. However, single mothers still outnumbered single fathers by a long shot. Even with how many people there were in the Los Angeles Metropolitan Area, he stuck out like a sore thumb. And since he never said who her mother was, rumors spread like crazy about which of his past trysts was the mother. This didn't help matters in the slightest.
Some of the Toontown residents were always willing to tell him what they thought of that. He didn't care if anyone said anything to him; he'd been dealing with gossip and scandals for years. It was all a part of being famous, after all. But all bets were off if anyone dared to say anything about her. He remembered once a very drunk and angry cat-like Toon called her a 'little bastard shit' with such venom and hatred in his voice that it caused her to cry. It took at least two others to hold him back when he tried to knock the drunkard out.
Thankfully, not everyone was like that. Most of the humans seemed more sympathetic; for what reason, he wasn't exactly sure, but he was grateful anyways. Their neighbor, Mrs. O'Hare, was a very kind and sweet panda widow. She always said how cute a child she was and always brought over homemade treats for their birthdays. She even gladly watches her when he has to go to work, spoiling her just as she would her own grandchildren. His co-workers also didn't seem to have any qualms about her. She'd hung around their children before and got along well with them.
"Daddy?"
He shook his head to clear his thoughts and glanced down upon hearing her call him and pulling on his shirt.
"Are we there, Daddy?"
Lifting his head back up, he looked at the windows opposite them. He managed to catch a glimpse of the nearest street sign; Broadway. They were almost to their stop and then they would have about a 10 minute walk to the pier. He looked back down at Ryn and smiled.
"Yes, pumpkin. We are."
She squealed loudly in delight causing the passengers to look at them again. He shushed her and told her that there were other people around. She needed to use her 'indoor voice' when they were around others. Otherwise, they wouldn't like her for being so noisy.
"It's a little too late for that, buddy. Damn kid has already had two outbursts now." He heard someone mumble under their breath. Shooting the unlucky passenger, a human toon, a glare, he said nothing as he turned back to his daughter who was now trying to get a look out the windows behind them. The bus started to slow and he quickly pulled her back down as it jerked to a stop. The last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment was a bloody nose.
Grabbing their things and her hand, he quickly stood up from the seat, hurrying to get off the bus before everyone else started leaving. He put his sunglasses back on and looked around at the various buildings; a bike rental, various bars and places to eat, and multiple charities. He wasn't paying attention and about fell over when she started pulling him towards the street, eager to get to the beach. He jerked her back when she tried to cross the street while cars were still zooming by.
"Farryn. You can't cross the street until the sign changes to stop." He said while giving her a stern look. She looked down slightly, her large straw hat gently flopping over her face. He sighed, and got down to her level, pushing the hat back up over her eyes. Grabbing her chin, he gently made her look at him.
"Honey, look. The cars don't stop until the sign tells them to stop. They are going fast enough that if one hit you, you could get seriously hurt and I don't know what I'd do if that happened."
"Sorry Daddy," she said sadly, eyes drifting downwards. She really didn't like getting in trouble. He sighed again, but smiled softly at her. He had a pretty short temper on him, but he could never find it in him to stay mad at her for long.
"It's alright, Sweetheart. Just promise me that you'll wait for the sign to change, ok?"
She looked up at him and nodded, hat flopping backwards off her head. He let out a chuckle and fixed it, before standing up and holding her hand again. The light turned red and they began to cross the street with the throng of people all headed to Santa Monica Beach. Glancing at the various individuals, it was fairly easy to tell who was a local and who was a tourist.
Most of the toons were local. The City of Toontown itself was fairly new, only having opened up in the late 1930s after cartoons started to become popular and new characters started popping up almost every day around Los Angeles. Not every toon was drawn of course; in fact a good majority of them, himself included, were born naturally. What decided that, he wasn't exactly sure. It was just the way of the world. Needing a place to keep the 'crazy' toons from causing harm to humans, Toontown was built near North Los Angeles, keeping it in close proximity with both Hollywood and Burbank where most Toons worked. While it wasn't exactly law that they had to live there, most chose to do so. They had more services strictly for Toons that humans didn't have. As long as they followed the laws of the human world and didn't cause any harm, they were welcome to travel anywhere.
Once the original Toontown proved successful, several others began to pop up around other prominent cities in the country; New York, San Diego, Chicago, San Francisco, and Philadelphia just to name a few. He'd even heard rumors that there were plans to open up several others across the ocean.
The tourists were fairly easy to spot. They stopped at practically every corner to take a picture of something with their big bulky cameras. Didn't matter if it was a building, a celebrity, a random person, or even a plant. They would take a picture of it. Sometimes they would come up to him, ask if they could have a picture or autograph. He had never turned anyone down for one. It wasn't that he was nice or anything. He just liked to feel important. How many other individuals, toon or human, could say that they signed a silly paper with their name for someone who was excited to receive it? He was better about them now, something he attributed to having the kid in his life; it had mellowed him out some. He did, however, draw the line at anyone taking pictures of her. It was bad enough the press were always hounding her and asking her questions she didn't understand; he really didn't want complete and utter strangers taking pictures of his daughter to share with their families back home.
Walking along Ocean Avenue, they passed the park that was nestled in between the ocean and the street. There were people everywhere. Some were having picnics on the grass beneath one of the many shaded areas, others walking, jogging or riding bikes on the pathways and, of course, the tourists taking pictures. After a short walk, they had finally made it to the pier, being greeted by the still new, neon blue sign that hung over the walkway. As expected for a Sunday, it was busy. Even the walkway to get to the actual beach was packed. So much in fact, that he picked her up, not wanting to lose her in the crowd.
"Daddy, look! Beach!"
"Yes, I see it. We're almost there." They were passing the various shops, carts, and cafes that lined the pier. Just past the first few shops was a set of stairs that took them down to the sand and a trail made of planks that took them out towards the middle of the beach. When they finally made it to the sandy dunes, he put down and grabbed her hand again, where she immediately started to pull him along. She dragged him all the way up near the shore, saying that was where she wanted to sit. Of course she did.
If he was lucky, she would wear herself out enough that she would actually sleep through the night for once.
~XXXX~
Not bad. Not bad at all.
Fletcher smiled and raised his sunglasses as a female wolf toon walked by with her human friend, giggling as they looked at him. One of the positives of being at the beach; the bathing suits. He couldn't help but notice that this year's style seemed to be polka dots, if the countless number of spots that had walked by him were any indication. Once they were out of sight, he pulled the glasses back down and laid back on his elbows, smiling as he watched his daughter play in the sand.
They had already been at the pier for roughly two hours and he was the one who was starting to wear down. Almost as soon as he got camp set up, she said she was hungry. Luckily for him, she was more receptive to the sandwich and chips than the granola she had earlier. When he'd barely finished his own lunch, she pulled on his shirt, trying to drag him into the water with her. Being that she couldn't swim yet, she was content on simply sitting in the surf and splashing in the water.
He was currently taking a break and taking an occasional drag on his smoke. He didn't want her in the water if he wasn't going to be with her. She could get dragged out to the ocean, pulled under, or even attacked by a shark. Which was why she was now sitting in the sand and building a sand castle. Or attempting to. It looked more like a small pile rather than a castle.
"Excuse me, sir?"
Upon hearing a voice, he glanced up and saw a female coyote standing next to him. She too, was wearing a polka dot suit, yellow in color. At least it looked good on her. She had a small smile, a notch in her left ear, and rather large sunglasses on and was holding a pad of paper and pen. He put on his best smile, hoping she was a fan and not simply a tourist asking for directions.
"Are you Fletcher Fox?"
"Indeed I am, Miss. Would you like an autograph?"
"Oh yes please. That would be great." Standing up from the towel, he took the pen and paper and scribbled his name on it before handing it back to her.
"There you are Miss-"
"Monica."
"Monica. Say, have we met before? You seem awfully familiar." He'd met so many people over the years he had hard time remembering who was who. But there was something about her. He could've sworn he'd seen her before. Maybe it was the notch.
"Well I would hope so. We used to be friends for quite a while!" she said with a smile. He squinted his eyes and looked her up and down. He still couldn't quite put a finger on if he'd seen her before. She said they had been 'friends'; he apparently had a lot of so-called 'old friends' that he simply didn't remember. Of course, every single one of them wasn't actually a friend. They were just using him to get a shot in Hollywood.
"You mean you don't remember having races to the Acme Factory at the end of the street? Or playing in the street with the other neighborhood kids?"
He looked at her again. He was slowly starting to remember now. He remembered a little coyote girl with a notch in her ear and a few years younger than him living next door to his childhood home. She used to play baseball and tag with the others in the street, seeing who could climb the local oak tree the fastest, and racing to the drug store at the corner. He remembered how she used to have crushes on every boy in the neighborhood, rotating through them each week. They all thought she was rather plain in appearance when they were young. Looks like she grew up pretty good.
"You know, now that you mention it, I do remember that. Sure has been awhile hasn't it. What brings you back to Los Angeles?" He remembered her and her family moving out sometime towards the beginning of high school. The Great Depression was still happening, and if he remembered correctly, her father lost his business and they moved up north to be closer to family.
"My little sister lives down here and is getting married. My husband and I are in the wedding party, but he's off with the boys doing who knows what," she said with a chuckle.
And she's married. Damn. Don't want to deal with that again.
"I remember how you always said you'd make it in Hollywood. Looks like you finally did, huh."
"Well, sort of. Depends on what you mean exactly," he said while rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah, I know about most of that from the paper. You were front page news almost daily, you know. It looks like you've got your act together now, though. What caused that?"
"Well…"
"Do you see castle Daddy?" Both the adults glanced down towards his leg where Farryn was pulling on the bottom of his shirt, trying to get his attention. He saw Monica smile down at her before looking back up at him.
"So you're a dad now, huh? I didn't know you were married."
"Uh, that's because I'm not," he said, cringing slightly and rubbing the back of his head again. If she was like most everyone else, she would immediately detest him, simply because he hadn't followed the traditional values when it came to family. He saw her smile falter and an eyebrow raise, but it was hard to tell what exactly she was thinking with the sunglasses on. "It's a long story."
Both of her eyebrows rose slightly and she looked back down at the little girl, who was now aware that she was being talked about. To his surprise, the coyote smiled and knelt down to be at eye level with the toddler, who immediately clung to his leg.
"Well hello there sweetie!"
When she didn't respond, he decided to push her along.
"Can you say hi?" She turned her head out and ever so slowly, waved her hand.
"Little shy, huh." She said, looking back up at him.
"We're working on it." Still smiling, she turned back to the little girl.
"What's your name?" She didn't say anything, preferring to just stare with large, worried eyes and her arms still gripping his leg.
"Can you tell her your name?" She shook her head, burying her face into his shorts. Seeing that she wasn't going to talk now, he spoke up instead. "Her name's Farryn. Ryn for short."
"Well, Farryn, I like your name! How old are you?" She said nothing, face still buried in his shorts and her grip just as tight as before.
"Come on, Rynnie. You can tell her how old you are," She looked up at him when he said this, unsure if she should tell this stranger or not. "Go on."
Farryn looked back at the woman in front of her and slowly raised three fingers, while still leaning against her fathers' leg.
"You're three? My goodness, you're a big girl then," the coyote said to her before standing up and addressing him again. "Cute kid. Guess I'd better get going. I have to meet my sister on the pier for dinner. Nice seeing you again!"
She waved as she began walking towards the pier. He waved back and happened to glance down at the basket he brought. Sitting just underneath the open lid, was his camera, a Polaroid 95. He had completely forgotten about it. He'd brought it with him so he could take pictures and add them to the small collection beginning to form on the fridge.
His daughter wasn't too fond of getting her picture taken, something he attributed to trying to keep her away from the flashes and photographs of the press. She was better about it, however, if someone else was with her.
"Wait, Monica. Before you go, you think you can do me a favor?" He called to her. She turned back towards him, eyebrow raised in confusion.
"What kind of favor?" She asked, uncertainty in her voice.
"Can you take a picture of us?" He asked, picking up the camera and holding it out to her.
"Oh, well sure!" She said as she walked back over to him and took the camera from his hand.
"Come here you!" He exclaimed loudly and picked up Farryn, causing her to squeal happily and giggle as he kissed her face. She hugged him tightly, still laughing, as he carried her out to the water.
"We goin' swimming again?" She asked between her giggles, turning her head to look at him.
"No, honey, we're gonna get our picture taken!" Her little face scrunched up in anger at this.
"Don't like pictures, Daddy."
"I know you don't. But I'm gonna be in this one with you!"
"Really?"
"Really really. Now, can you look at the camera and say 'Cheese!'?" He asked while pointing towards where the coyote was standing on land and aiming the camera at them. She nodded enthusiastically, squeezed his neck with her arms, and put on a big smile.
"Cheese!" She said loudly as the camera flashed.
~XXXX~
Thank God she's asleep. Thought I was gonna have to deal with a hyperactive toddler the whole way back.
Fletcher let out a content sigh and laid his head back against the cool window of the bus. They had spent about another hour at the beach after his old friend left before heading to the pier to eat dinner and check out the arcade. As they were walking along, trying to figure out where to eat, she pointed out a small stand near Muscle Beach. It was a hot dog on a stick. Wasn't quite what he was thinking for dinner, but she wanted one, so he figured why not. Plus, it was relatively cheap. They could each get a dog, a lemonade, and share some fries.
After spending some time at the arcade, wherein she simply watched as he showed her how to play the different games they had, they began to head back to the bus stop. Along the way, she spotted an ice cream stand and said that she wanted ice cream. He told her no; she didn't need any ice cream. This set her off and she began to throw another tantrum, exclaiming through her tears that he promised her ice cream if she ate her granola bar.
Well, damn. He was hoping she would've forgotten that. He hadn't had a chance to see a doctor yet, but he was fairly certain that he was lactose intolerant. Before she showed up, he wasn't much of a milk drinker. Thought it tasted weird. But she loved milk and ice cream and always wanted him to get some with her. And whenever he did eat any dairy, he usually ended up in the bathroom for a while, feeling sick to his stomach. Since they were away from home, he didn't want to have to worry about that. He explained that she could have some, but he wouldn't get any. She started crying harder, saying she wanted to have ice cream with her daddy. He was finally able to calm her down when he said he'd get some when they were leaving and eat it on the way home.
During the walk to the stop, she was hyped up on the sugar from the sweets and was waving to everything, living or not, and talking to him nonstop about every little thing. She kept pulling him every time she saw something up ahead she wanted to see. At one point when he wasn't paying attention, she pulled his arm enough that he spilled some of the cone on his shirt. He was going to lecture her, but she was still far too hyper to even listen to him. When they finally made it to their stop, she was still excited and bouncing on her heels. He was afraid he was going to have to deal with trying to keep her under control the entire ride home.
Unlike their ride in the morning, this bus was nowhere near as full. He took her to the back where there were less people so she wouldn't be bothersome. After about five minutes, she finally crashed. She had crawled into his seat, laid her head against his chest, and promptly fell asleep. He put his arm on her and began scratching her back, while she drooled on his already soiled shirt.
The bus filled up as it went along its route and it was a relatively quiet trip back. Every once in a while, a fellow passenger would have a conversation with him, but for the most part is was pretty silent. After the hours' trip, they arrived at their stop. He picked her up with one arm and the basket in the other and walked off the bus and in the direction towards their house. When he finally made it back, exhausted and feeling gross from everything on his shirt, he let out a sigh again.
He was going to have to wake her, something that was always a joy, and give her a bath and put her to bed. Then he needed to take a shower and probably get sick from the ice cream and get ready for bed and clean out the basket and-
He glanced down at the basket and noticed the camera again. Sitting just underneath it, was a new black and white photo. Setting it down, he picked up the picture and looked at it. It was the one from earlier; he was standing in the surf, sunglasses over his eyes, smiling widely, and holding her tightly, while she smiled just as brightly, her oversized straw hat falling to one side, and squeezing his neck. It wasn't a perfect picture, although nothing was he supposed, but he thought it described their life perfectly; chaotic, uncertain, tiresome, and just the two of them.
Adjusting his hold on her, he walked to the kitchen and placed the picture against the fridge and gently placed a magnet on it. Stepping back, he smiled slightly and admired the ever growing collection of pictures on the fridge. He had pictures from almost every occasion; first steps, first birthday, holidays and ones that were simply them spending time together, just like today.
She might not like getting her picture taken, but he certainly loved the memories that came from them.