Memories of our initial meeting surfaced. “The first time I met your mommy, she had long hair. I was naughty and every time I saw her, I’d pull on her ponytail when she refused to talk to me.”
She covered her quick gasp. “You were a bad daddy?”
Laughing, I tweaked her chin. “When you fall in love one day, you’ll understand.”
“Yuck. I’m not falling in love if boys are going to pull my hair. The ones in my class are gross.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Okay.” I grinned, glad that I still had years to go before I had to worry about my daughter losing her heart. “About two weeks later, your mommy cut her hair and I was angry.”
“But you didn’t know her.”
“Well,” I paused. “Not really and she didn’t want to be friends.” I chuckled at the memory of following her after school every day with my motorcycle. She’d walk with her friends, her cheeks always rosy when I threw mischievous comments her way. Then she cut her hair and I saw red. Our first kiss hadn’t gone down gently. I took without asking.
“Daddy?” Neha shook my jaw bringing me out of the memories with an impatient snort. “Then what happened.”
“I asked her why she cut her hair to look like a boy and she called me stupid, saying it was called a Pixie cut. Then I kissed her and told her she’d be my pixie for the rest of her life.”
Neha giggled. “Can I cut my hair like mommy?”
“If you want to.” I tugged lightly on her braided hair. “But you’ll have to see how short it is first before you decide.” I kissed the top of her head, knowing she loved her long, black hair. She sat for hours in front of the mirror playing dress-up and making various hairstyles. I had to judge every one of them when I was home. Lord help me if I didn’t like one of them, she’d pout for days.
She turned and stared at my laptop screen. “Why are you looking at mommy’s photos?”
All the tickling had caused tendrils to escape her braid. Loosening her tie, I finger-brushed her hair and braided it again “Just remembering mommy today.”
She looked up at me. “Do you miss her?”
“Lots.”
“Sometimes I wish she hadn’t gone away.” She stared at me, her expression wistful.
“Me too, Pixie.” As she snuggled against my chest, I kissed the top of her head, growing confident by the minute that the woman I’d seen at the restaurant, was my wife. Even though the question ‘how’ remained at the forefront, I intended to find out the truth. Closing the folder, I made up my mind to go back. It was the only way I’d know for sure. “I’m going away for a couple of days.”
“Will you be back soon?”
I pushed her bangs back from her eyes. “Of course, baby. There’s just some work I need to get done.” I kissed her brow.
“Can you read me a story, please?”
“Sure.” Scooping her up into my arms, I headed upstairs. “...and they lived happily ever after,” I finished the story thirty minutes later with a quick tickle.
She giggled, pushing my hands away. “Daddy?” she spluttered between laughter.
“Yes.”
“Do fairytales come true?”
I sat back on my knees and stared at her. This morning, my answer would’ve been a simple no. Now, I didn’t know what to believe about the way the universe worked. Whether fairytales came true or not I couldn’t say but I hoped so, for the sake of my kids. “Fairytales don’t come true but nothing stops you from creating your own.”
“How?”
I shrugged. “Believe in what you want, work toward it and you’ll achieve it.”
“What if I want a fairytale to come true for someone else?” She fidgeted with the ears of her bunny.
“Like who?”
“You.” Her eyes met mine, brilliant with laughter.
