Sunday, May 28, 2017. Daily Brit Wit.
A period of two weeks.
“Anthony folds the charcoal trousers and places them atop the pile on his bed. He ignores the little girl, pouting and petulant and deviously cherubic, on the opposite end of his suitcase. As he returns to the closet and opened drawers, Anthony keeps his daughter in peripheral vision, anticipating her sabotaging his packing.
The deceitfully adorable little girl on his bed sighs and Anthony purses his lips to hide a smile. He waits her out by grabbing three dress shirts and two tee-shirts.
‘How long are you to be gone, Da?’ She inquires, the fifth time since breakfast and the twelfth in thirty-six hours.
‘A fortnight, Zo. I have a conference in New Zealand that Da really can’t afford to miss.’ He explains to her as patiently as he can.
The little girl, Zoey, groans at the response and based on what Anthony hears with his back toward her, Zoey throws herself backward onto the mattress. ‘Why can’t I go to New Zealand, too?!’
‘You’ve got school, love.’ He grabs a second pair of leather shoes and returns to the bed. And finds Zoey sprawled over his pillow, arm across her eyes and hand clutching his opened suitcase.
For a moment, Anthony allows the doubt he’s ignored for the last week to creep into his conscious and contemplates if leaving Zoey is the best choice. They’ve barely been separated for more than two days since the accident, how will both survive a two week separation? He dumps the items he’s holding haphazardly inside the luggage and opens his arms for his little girl. Zoey flies toward him and latches on.”
*For the next installment of my Fortnight mini series, please check out: Sennight.