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“Hey, Christina, what did you get for number seven on the algebra test?” Plaisy said as they were walking out of the school.
“Judas! Number ten also had the same answer,” Christina replied, going down the steps.
“Ugh, I knew I should’ve stuck with that!”
There, Art recklessly pulled up to the entrance of the school, hitting one of the signs.
“Looks like my ride’s here!” Christina waved at Plaisy.
“Bye, Christina!”
“Hi, Daddy!” She opened the door and was surprised by the number of shot glasses that fell out of the car.
“Good evening, sweetie!” Art said with a slight slurred tone. “Don’t worry about those glasses, we can buy new ones once we reached the supermarket.”
“Oh, that’s nice! Nothing like spending time with my old man after school!” Christina closed the door and immediately put her seat belt on.
As Art stepped on the gas, he reached in the glove department to pull out a notebook and pen.
“Here, write the items down for me,” he handed them to Christina.
“Oh, I figured you already had them written down.”
“Well, it’s hard to focus on a mere list when you’re working endlessly at a well-paying job that requires your undivided attention.”
Art then glanced at Christina with a questioning look.
“Are you implying that your father is lazy? All because I was too busy to write down some words?”
“No, no, no, not at all!” She gulped and clicked the pen. “What is it that we need?”
“Your mother is making meatloaf and she’s only missing a few ingredients: garlic, onions, and eggs.”
“Garlic… onions… and eggs!”
“Obviously, I need to buy more shot glasses for my vodka collection, alongside buying new pillowcases for my side of the bedroom.”
“Shot glasses and pillowcases…”
“Anything you need?”
“Just more sanitary pads at the moment,” Christina wrote the final item down.
“I just bought some for your mother…” Art rolled his eyes. “Do you know how humiliating it is to go up to the male cashier with a box of those things?”
“I’m sorry, Daddy, the first couple of days of it is pretty brutal. I can’t help it.”
“Not as brutal as the constant complaining I have to hear from you two every time it happens.”
A sudden wave of guilt overcame Christina, she couldn’t help but to rub the back of her neck out of embarrassment. She didn’t mean to make her father feel bad – well, worse. He was right: a man’s happiness at stake was way worse than cramps that she and Poppit could easily walk off if they prayed hard enough.
Why did I say that? She thought as she clicked the pen again and looked out the window with a more somber expression, waving at the pedestrians that they passed by. I didn’t even know he felt that way… me and Mom should’ve been more considerate.
Art, on the other hand, looked over to her and sighed in frustration – he always hated when she did that. It meant that she wasn’t going to pay attention for what he had to say and just wanted to go home. Not to mention, if any of the townspeople caught a glance at her upset behavior, they would’ve thought that he was a bad father, and he would’ve been damned if they had that mindset since it was far from the truth.
“Look, Christina, I didn’t mean to make you upset,” he started. “It just gets tiring, you know? Having to spend double every time you guys are on your cycles, dealing with the constant moaning and groaning due to the satanic cramps, and worse of all…”
He then placed his right hand on her cheek and softly pinched it.
“I have to see my little princess in pain.”
It took a few seconds, but Christina finally looked at him with a more sympathetic smile, which in return, made him smile back.
“I’m sorry for worrying you,” she said, sitting back up in her seat.
“No, no, it’s just female nature,” Art then honked on the horn to make a dog in the road go away. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
After that conversation, it was mostly silence for a solid minute, with Christina humming a random melody she created on the spot.
Art caught on to what that meant too: she always did that when she wanted to ease an atmosphere’s tension.
See, people can’t tell me that I’m not a great father, he thought as his smile still remained. I know what my daughter does when she’s down and do my best to make her feel better.
It was still going to be several more minutes until they reached the supermarket, so he figured it was a good opportunity to strike another conversation.
“So, my co-worker told me he’s having marital problems with his wife for the past few days now,” he started.
“Mr. Tych?” Christina asked. “I thought him and his wife resolved their differences and decided not to get a divorce.”
“Oh no, this is Mr. Paintison I’m talking about.”
“Oh, it’s been a minute since I heard about him. What’s going on this time?”
“Bed issues: apparently, he’s upset that his wife hasn’t been ‘giving him any action,’ and I guess he was thinking about getting a divorce because of it.”
“Does he want another child? Oh-!” Christina held on to the door when Art made a sharp left turn.
“Doesn’t sound like it,” he then made a right turn. “Which is why I told him to just get separate beds, so he won’t feel tempted into having sex with her outside of procreation. But I understand where he’s coming from: when I first met your mother at Principal Fauxer’s reception, she was a very beautiful woman, I had no choice but to approach her.”
“Aww! Wait… ‘was’?”
“Well, it’s only natural for a woman to lose her beauty as she gets older. Now, granted, you probably won’t notice it, but us men have a knack for spotting it once she turns twenty-five.”
“Oh, geez…” Christina worryingly touched her face.
“Ah, you still got fourteen years left to enjoy it, sweetheart!” Art patted her shoulder. “Plenty of time, in my opinion!”
“Yeah, you’re right! So, do you think Mr. Paintison is going to go through with it?”
“Honestly, probably not. If he needs any ‘action,’ he can easily use a sock and his right hand – problem solved.”
As Art chuckled, Christina gave him a confused look but shrugged it off.
“You see, I really enjoy having conversations like that with you,” he candidly said.
“I know, right? Makes me feel so mature!”
“You are mature for your age; that’s one of the benefits of having me as your role model! You should be proud.”
“I am proud,” Christina smiled wide again. “I always appreciate it! Oh-!”
“We’re here!” Art stepped on the brakes to the supermarket’s parking lot. “Remember, the slower we get these items, the slower I have to get back to the house.”
“Yes sir!” Christina unbuckled her seat belt and the two exited out the car.