It’s as if this is the forest I spent my childhood searching for. I used to sneak out of my foster homes during the night in a fit of wanderlust, hoping to find the place my father told me about. The fairytales of kings and queens, flying steeds, and of course, Carnegie—my life-long caterpillar friend who used to fill my dreams. He hasn’t come around since that night when I turned into a caterpillar as well. He’s been replaced by the corrosive memories of my past, and when I’m lucky enough, empty nights of blank space.
I find a spot up on a hill to perch myself. I sit and my pants dampen, seeping up the melted snow that soaks the earth beneath me, but I don’t care because I’m at peace. I fold my legs in front of me and look down on this house that for now, I imagine is my kingdom. And when I close my eyes and lie back on the sodden ground, I believe that the man hiding away in his office at the top of the castle is my prince.
I breathe in the essence of the innocent child-like dream, and I’m five years old all over again. Dressed in my princess gown, I see my father holding the bouquet of pink daisies. His face still a crystal perfect image in my mind. Although twenty-three years have passed, I’m still a little girl, and he’s still my handsome daddy who can fix anything with his hugs and kisses.
“You’re so beautiful,” his voice whispers through the wind, and my eyes flash open when I sit up.
My heart flutters at the realness of his voice, and then I hear it again.
“Where have you been, sweetheart?”
“Daddy?” My voice rings high in optimism through the breeze blowing through the trees above.
“It’s me.”
Looking around, I see no sign of anyone. I know this isn’t real, but I don’t care. I let whatever chemical my brain is spilling take me away, and I give into the illusion.
“I miss you,” I tell the wind that carries wishes coming true.
“I miss you too. More than you’ll ever know,” he says, and I smile at the way his voice warms my chest. “What are you doing out here in the cold?”
“Escaping.”
“Escaping what?”
“Everything,” I say. “Being out here and exploring transports me back to a place of happiness. Where evil doesn’t exist and innocence isn’t lost.”
“But what about down there?” I look down to the house as he continues, “Why can’t you find that inside those walls?”
“Because inside those walls lies the truth. And the truth is . . . evil does exist, and innocence is just a fable.”
“Life is whatever you want it to be, sweetheart.”
“I don’t believe that,” I tell him. “I don’t believe we are stronger than the forces of this world.”
“Maybe not, but I’d like to think of my little girl as someone who would fight for her fairytale.”
“I’ve fought my whole life, Daddy. I’m ready to throw in the towel and give up.”
“Who are you talking to?”
Turning my head, I see Declan standing off in the distance.
“I’m not crazy,” I instantly defend.
He begins walking towards me. “I didn’t say you were.”
But if I did what my soul is screaming for me to do, he would. Because right now, the emptiness that refills what my father just warmed makes me want to cry out at the top of my lungs for him to come back. It roils inside of me, panging on the strings of my heart, but I mask it for fear of completely breaking down.
Declan sits next to me, and I deflect, teasing, “You just might destroy those slacks, sitting in the slushy dirt with me.”
He looks at me, and his expression is hard to read, but it’s almost despondent.
When he doesn’t speak, I ask, “Why have you been hiding in your office?”
“Why have you been hiding out here?” he counters.
“I asked first.”
Taking a deep breath, he admits, “Honestly . . . It makes me nervous to be around you.”
“Why?”
He pulls his knees up and rests his arms over them as he explains, “Because I don’t know you. I feel like I know the character you played—I know Nina. She made me comfortable. But you . . . I don’t know you, and that makes me nervous.”
But before I can speak, he says, “Now it’s your turn to answer. Who were you talking to?”
Casting my eyes away from him, I reveal, “My dad,” and wait for his response, but what he says next surprises me.
“What did he have to say?”
Shifting my attention back to Declan, he looks sincere in wanting to know, so I give it to him. “He told me I need to be stronger.”
“Will you tell me about him?” he asks, and then smirks, adding, “The truth this time.”
“What I used to tell you about him, the way he comforted me, the way you two resemble each other, it was all true, Declan. The lie was the Kansas story. Truth is, we lived in Northbrook. He was a great dad. I never had to question his love for me because he gave it endlessly.” Thoughts from the past pile up, and I smile when I tell him, “The reason my favorite flower is the pink daisy, is because that’s what he would always buy me.”
My chest tugs when the memories fall from my eyes and roll down my cheeks.
“We used to have these tea parties. I’d dress up and he’d join me, pretending to eat the little plastic pastries.” I wipe my tears, saying, “I never asked about my mom. I never really thought about her because my dad was more than enough. I never felt like I was missing anything.”