An Afternoon With Daddy
Disclaimer: I don't own RENT...yadda, yadda...
He sat with his little girl on the floor; she was his one song glory and much more. April Judith Davis had her father's eyes and her mother's smile. Roger adored his little girl especially moments like these.
Her back was pressed to his chest as his guitar blocked her from really going anywhere. His fingers working on the strings to create a soft and lulling melody, but April knew that she wasn't tired. Almost purposely, she struck the side of the guitar with her open palm, telling him to pay attention to her.
'What's wrong, April-baby? Don't like the song?' he asked, his voice full of warmth and love for her.
April shook her head and made way to stand up, but her father's strong arms prevented her from going anywhere. She turned around and clung onto him and in her small voice she whined, 'Up!'
When Roger didn't comply right away, April stuck out her lower lip in a pout and said again a little more whiney, 'Up!'
With a smile he put the guitar down and scooped April in his arms, playfully acting like a monster and attacking her, causing her to squeal in the game and thrash a little. His arms held her close, tickling her belly as she now giggled, trying her best to wriggle away.
'You can't get away that easily!' Roger exclaimed as she got out of his arms and started to run with wobbly steps. Her father followed on his hands and knees, making silly monster sounds for effect. Suddenly entrapping her again in his arms and planting a kiss on her cheek.
'Noo!' she squealed, trying to get out again, but failing. It was a game to both of them, a silly one, but a game that they both played constantly.
'No?' he asked, kissing her cheek and holding her close.
'Go!' she whined and reached out her hands trying now to get a ball that she saw. Then she cried louder, 'GOOO!'
'Go where?'
She didn't say anything, but reached for the ball and made a little whining sound. April wriggled again, trying hard to get the ball, letting out a happy squeak when Roger rolled it over to her, but he didn't let go of his daughter. Now, she didn't mind, she happily held the ball and focused on that. Slowly she rolled it and it went too far for her, and she cried. Roger again gave it back to her.
April stopped fussing and Roger, sat behind her watching her play. His little girl, something he never thought he'd have. And there she was in front of him, with her chocolate brown curls in pigtails and her fair skin glowing in the afternoon sun. Her green eyes always glimmered the same way Roger's did. And just like Roger she got bored or frustrated with things easily.
When she was bored with the ball, she got up and walked around, looking for something interesting to play with. She knew where her toys were and where everything she's not supposed to get into was kept. April loved to paint, no matter what she was doing if paints were brought out, she'd stop and paint. She also knew where the paints were kept.
Sneaking into the little cabinet under the sink, April found Maureen's paints. Using a glass to look into, April painted and instead of using paper she painted herself. She smudged some red over her cheeks and lips, blue above her eyes. Feeling satisfied with her paint job, April got up and went back to her father.
She patted his back, 'Daddy, look!'
Roger, who had been busy picking up after April hadn't noticed where she had gone. Turning around, he looked and saw an awfully messy child. 'April-baby, what did you do to your face?'
'Pwetty! Apwil pwetty!' she exclaimed feeling proud of herself. Her smile faded as she saw that her father wasn't too happy with the face paint. 'Apwil pwetty?'
'You're pretty without that stuff on your face, come on. Let's wash it off before Mommy gets home and yells at me,' he said softly, trying not to make her cry. That was the last thing he ever wanted to do.
'Daddy twouble?' she asked.
'Nah, not if Mommy doesn't know,' there was a smile in his voice as he picked up April and brought her into the bathroom and sat her on the edge of the tub. Roger took a towel and wet it before he gently washed the paint off his daughter's face. She sat there looking sad and ready to cry, her hard work at looking pretty went down the drain and she sniffled. 'Come on, baby, don't cry. Daddy's not mad.'
April nodded, but sniffled still and she remained that way until after all the paint was washed off her face. Even after his little girl was sullen, Roger attempted to make her feel better by singing, but she didn't smile.
'Do you want ice cream?' he asked, hoping that her favourite sweet would cheer her up, but April shook her head gloomily. 'How about an Ice Cream Sunday with lots of chocolate chips and sprinkles?'
That at least got her to look at him. 'Weally?'
'Yes, really, I promise, if you give me a smile, ok? Just one smile and the Ice Cream Sunday's yours,' he said. That got her to try to smile. 'Aw come on, April, do I have to tickle you?'
April shook her head, crossed her arms and pouted a pout that would rival her mother, 'No tickle!'
'Then smile…and think of the ice cream…and if you give me a big smile, we'll have more after dinner.'
'Pwomise?'
'Yeah, I promise.'
And there was that smile that Roger wanted. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, 'See I knew there was a smile in you. Now let's have that ice cream.'