I fall asleep before my father could reach my room to tuck me in, though I awaken to his voice which I distinctly recognize. A dream? I squeeze my eyes shut before opening them slowly in disbelief. He sits at my bedside in my wooden chair; reading to his heart's content as if he were reading to a small child. Me.
Sitting up, I rub my eyes to watch as he reads none other than my favorite tale. He doesn't seem to notice that I have awaken, but keeps reading as if I were listening to every word the entire time.
…"I must not forget my friend, the emperor"
I finished the sentence before he could start it. I knew it right on cue, having heard it almost every night growing up. He smiles, not looking at me, but finishes the story as I repeat each finishing line in accordance.
"Good morning princess"
"Daddy, what's that?"
"It's to shave daddy's face"
"Why?"
"Because that's what daddy's do?"
"Oh…."
I was always so curious of my father's daily tasks. His weekly shaving always interested me as a child. I would always race to the bathroom with a chair and watch in the mirror, asking question after question as he just laughed and eventually answered. I almost cried once when I saw him bleed, though it was the smallest of cuts, blood on my father was unseen. I remember that day because he stopped and scooped me in his arms as my mother worried frantically. They both told me everything would be ok.
I still have a habit of watching him shave, though mainly my reason is that I need the bathroom as well. We have learned to compromise.
"What's this?"
"Father, its called mascara"
"Father? What happened to daddy?"
I shrug my shoulders, not meaning to be as rude but it felt right. I'm a teenager now, I shouldn't be calling him daddy, I do not intend to as an adult, therefore I have to start sometime. But looking back into the mirror was a sight that broke my heart into a million pieces. My father's broken heart. He continued quietly, not once looking at me, as if I weren't there. He left the bathroom as I finished putting on my makeup. I could hear the TV turn on and the volume increasing slowly. I knew I had hurt him, but I think it hurt me even worse. I threw down my makeup bag, and ran off to my room, lying across my bed as I drowned my tears onto my pillow.