Page 36 of Kneeling for Them
“Why not?You looked excited for a second.”
“I can’t wear…this,” she says, plucking at her work clothes.
“Well, that brings me to your Valentine’s Day gift.”
“You got me agift?”
I can’t tell if she’s happy or angry or what, but she’s my girl and fuck if I’m not going to spoil her.
“Yes, I got you a gift,” I say, lowering my voice to show her I mean business.“It’s a dress.And you will wear it and you will fucking like it, little girl.”
Laughing, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek.“Thank you, Daddy.”
“You haven’t even seen it yet,” I say, frowning.
“If you picked it out, I know I’ll like it.”
Now I’m feeling bad for getting all dominant about the dress.“Seriously, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to wear it.We can go pick something out together and go to Vice another night.”
“Come on, Daddy, show me the dress already,” she says.
I help her into the car and watch, breath held, while she pulls the top off of the box.The shimmering, light pink and black dress glows in the car’s interior light.It’s girlie, but still grown-up.I’d thought it would be perfect for Ella, but I’ve been nervous she won’t like it.
My fears were for nothing, though, because Ella squeals in delight, her eyes shining.“Kingston, it’s perfect!”
“There are a few pairs of shoes for you to try on, to see which ones work,” I say, opening a large shopping bag stuffed with boxes.“You can keep them all, or send any back that you don’t like.”
“I don’t deserve all of this,” she says, but I’m relieved to notice her feelings of inadequacy are no longer preventing her from accepting these small kindnesses.
She starts pulling open boxes and trying on shoes, and she finds her favorite pair.
“Hmm,” she says, mischief in her voice.“There’s no changing room in this car.”
“No, there’s not,” I say.“Do you think I’m going to be a gentleman and turn around while you get naked?”
“I fucking hope not,” she says.
“Language, little girl.”
She just laughs.
We’re going to have so much fucking fun tonight.
Sebastian
Kingston has texted me yet again.I ignore the message, again.In front of me is a vodka tonic, a shot of tequila, and a pint of IPA.
So far, I haven’t touched even one of them.
I’m not at Kitty Cat Karaoke.I tried, and nobody seemed to notice me or care I was around…or maybe I just wasn’t giving a fuck.But when I tried to order alcohol, Rick shook his head at the server and came over to talk to me.
Fuck his concern.I stood up and walked out of the building.And now I’m at this dive, and I have three glasses in front of me.They should be tempting, right?But I don’t care one way or the other.
When alcoholics at the AA meetings talk about their addiction, they make it sound all-consuming.They want to turn to alcohol in times of sadness, in times of shock, in times of anger or other strong emotions—even positive ones like happiness and contentment.
It’s never been like that for me.Right now, I just want a drink because let’s be fucking honest, I’m hoping to self-destruct.
The bartender has walked past several times, but she looks so bored, she barely spares me or my drinks a glance.
