Chapter 49: XXII. The Video-2

His eyes were light, like I thought. A beautiful, bright blue. His dark hair was a remnant of the late 90s, early 2000s, floppy era, but it suited him. When he smiled, it was so big that it made his eyes crinkle. He smiled big at me. "I'm just a bit of a pervert, but only for her," he informed the camera, well me, holding up his thumb and index finger to show me the tiny amount. "Your Mommy is so damn pretty it ought to be illegal." He sighed and looked down at me with a mesmerised expression. "Where to start, angel?" he asked. "I'm not very articulate. Is that the word? Mommy's the smart one. I really hope you're smart like her. If you get my brains, college won't be much fun." He looked up at the camera again, looked up at me again. "I wanted to make this video because I want to remember every second of this time with you. Remember how I'm feeling right now, though I don't think I'll ever forget how much I fucking love you. Shit!" he cried. "I've got to get a handle on my cursing. Mommy will probably hit me with her car if your first word is "fuck"," he laughed. I laughed, too. "Fuck it," he continued. "I'll figure out how you bleep out the cursing like they do on TV. Do you know how goddamn cute you are? I never thought I'd hear the end of Robert harping on about how gorgeous his daughter, Cecelia, is, but my daughter is the fucking cutest. No competition," he bragged. "Tell you what, I'm going to get you into those Baby Gap commercials. Those kids are fucking trolls compared to you." He looked upon me with such love that I got the air stuck in my throat. "Okay," he continued, "so I wanted to make this video for you, too." He looked back up at me. "I want this video to sit on the shelf next to Mommy's Tom Cruise movies," he rolled his eyes, "Fucking Jerry Maguire, kid, I swear. "You had me at hello," and she's crying. Somehow me telling her she had me at mustard stain on her shirt doesn't work the same magic." He laughed again. "Anyway, I'm getting side-tracked. I want this video to be where you can grab it every time you hate me. "When you're pissed off at me for grounding you for staying out past curfew with your boyfriend. Or for when we're fighting because I fucking know the jerk isn't good enough for you. Or for when you're not talking to me after I've criticised your shitty driving after a lesson. Or for when I catch you sneaking one of my beers. Or for when I catch you cursing after you've heard it from me. Or for when you get a bad grade. But let's face it, you can blame Mommy for that one. She'll be on you for your grades." He grinned. "This video is for you to watch every time you hate me, to remind you that I love you. "I thought becoming a dad would be the scariest thing in the world. But it isn't. You are my child, my flesh and blood, and loving you is like breathing to me." Exhaling, he looked down at me again, playing with my fingers with his index finger. "You're so sweet and innocent, Saraphine. You bring me a kind of joy that I didn't know I could feel. I love you so much that I'm scared I'll fuck it up." He shook his head. "I will fuck it up," he corrected himself. "I will fuck it up so many times, Saraphine," he said, looking back at the camera. "But don't you ever doubt that you are so damn loved. Mommy and I love you as big as the world. "So, if you're watching this, and you're fifteen or something, and you're pissed at me for cracking it at you for mouthing off at Mommy or dating that dipshit I know you'll be dating because like mother, like daughter," he winked, gesturing to himself, "first, take it easy on your old man. I'll be old then. My temper will probably be shorter. Second, know that I fucking love you, angel, and everything that I do, or have done, or will do, will be for you and Mommy. "I will love you every damn day of my life. I am counting every one of my blessings for you, and I am so grateful that I've got a while before I've got to buy you a prom dress, or get you a car, or walk you down the aisle and give you away at your wedding." He seemed to pale a bit. "Shit," he said to me in the bassinet. "Stay little, okay? Do you know what goes through a guy's head at prom? Because I fucking do. And we fucking did it. Now way in hell you're fucking doing that." And for the first time in my life I was embarrassed by my parents. And then his expression changed to that of disgust. "Oh, Jesus, Saraphine. What is she feeding you, expired Mexican food?" he cried, blocking his nose. "I think you just diarrhoea-d on your new romper. How do I turn this thing off?" He came up to the camera, and I could see the pattern on his shirt as he tried to find the off switch. "Amanda, how do I –" and the screen cut to black. I closed my laptop and wiped my eyes with my sleeve. I laid down and stretched out my legs. God, how I wished things were different. I wished that Mom had never left. I wished that Dad was still alive. I wished, I wished, I wished. But, to use my Dad's words, my Mom fucked up. I was watching that video while feeling all sorts towards my Mom, and it did give me some perspective. But it also gave me something else. It gave me my dad. He had been gone nearly as long as I had been alive, but I had him in a sense. I had his words. I certainly had a sense of his personality. I had a vision of what he and Mom had been like together when things had been good. And I had a clear vision of how it would have been to grow up with him. I picked up my phone and dialled Shea. He answered on the first ring. "Sara?" he sounded concerned. "Hey." You could tell in my voice that I had been crying. He was immediately alarmed. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" "Yeah," I answered, actually surprised. "I'm okay. I'm the most okay I've been in a while." I rolled onto my side, facing my other nightstand, and I saw that Mom had made another addition. It was the same hospital picture that had been in Karen Braverman's scrapbook, but it was framed in beautiful, white wood. I smiled. "What did you do today?" I asked.