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“Mum?”
Daisy set down her cup of now cold tea, eyes sluggishly coming to rest on Charlotte. She had grown a bit since her father left. She remembered that day far too vividly.
“What is it Charlie?”
“When do you think Dad will send us another letter?”
“Hm,”
She didn’t immediately reply, eyes shifting back to the amber swirl in that chipped, ceramic cup.
“I don’t know, but he did send us one last Sunday. I’m sure he’ll do it again when he isn’t fighting,”
“Fighting?”
Daisy chuckled a bit, a smile still resting on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Yes Charlie. Your dad is out fighting the Bacon soldiers.”
“Is it to keep us safe?”
“Mhm,”
“Is he safe?”
That question hit a little crack in Daisy’s already fragile soul. She smiled again, but it was just to reassure herself. She couldn’t break, not in front of Charlotte.
“Is he safe…”
She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“I hope he is.”
***
The couch seating felt too cold.
Most of every curtain was drawn, the only light being from the quiet television. It was only ever new public homicides anyway.
Charlotte lay asleep on her lap.
She gingerly reached for the remote, changing the channel to a cartoon Charlie liked watching; she didn’t want to hear anything grim right now.
She peered down at Charlie as she suppressed a yawn, gently sifting through her hair, scratching at her scalp.
She was her daughter.
Their daughter.
A growing ten year old whose father was away at war.
And she resented Guest for that.
A knock at the door echoed through the house, and Daisy’s adrenaline spiked. What if they had come for them? What if they were looking for Guest? Then they would beat her and take her Charlie away and—
The knock rang again, and Daisy swallowed her fears. She was strong, maybe strong enough to protect them both, but strong enough for Charlie.
She had to be.
She slowly rose from the sofa, her footsteps creaking against the floorboards. She caught the faint silhouette of a man whose posture seemed far too perfect not out of habit, but by force. She felt her breath hitch.
She slowly opened the door.
It was a man from the Robloxian Army.
“Hello Miss. I’ve come to deliver a letter for you. From the Guest soldier on the front lines.”
The painful tension in her shoulders immediately left her.
“Thank you,”
“Do you have anything you would like me to send?”
She paused, eyes flitting between the streets and the kitchen counter, and she sighed, slowly making her way to the kitchen to bring out the letter she and Charlie had made together on some obscure little evening where they could hear the sound of gunshot somewhere outside.
“Here you go sir, and thank you. Have a safe trip back.”
He smiled, and left just as quickly as his anxiety-inducing appearance.
Somewhere in the living room, Charlotte stirred on the couch, murmuring something unintelligible. The TV drawled on with its chipper tunes. The curtains were still closed over the window, hiding away the charm of the afternoon sun.
Daisy sat down beside Charlotte, firmly holding the letter in her hands, like if she let go it would slip away somehow.
Then she began to read.
***
“Hey mum?”
“Yes Charlie?”
“I–is it okay for me to cry? I know dad said to be strong but—” she sniffled and held back a sob “— I don’t think I can be strong right now…”
Daisy slowly lowered herself to Charlotte’s level, cupping her face and gently wiping the tears that had begun to roll down her cheek. She was just a kid. She didn’t deserve this. Neither of them did.
It felt like someone had taken a piece of Daisy and destroyed it.
“You don’t have to be strong all the time Charlie. Especially not now.”
“But dad said I have to,” she sniffled, “I don’t wanna disappoint him…”
Daisy chuckled a little as she picked her up. She felt so much heavier now, or maybe it was with the weight of everything combined.
“Your dad has always been proud of you. That’ll never change,”
“R–really?”
Daisy hugged her tighter, fingers resting in her hair as she carried her down the little street where they lived in a house with closed curtains and scattered letters on the ground from a man who had been pronounced dead.
“Your dad loved you, baby,” she whispered softly, “he loved you so much. He wouldn’t mind if you didn’t stay strong for a little bit.”
The rest of the way was silent.
But Daisy was holding back tears.
***
Work, dishes, unsolved grief.
Now a glimmering sunset that seemed too pretty to be fair.
Daisy sat on the veranda edge, feet buried in the dying grass. Charlie was in the sandbox, face bathed in the last rays of sun. She sat idly fiddling with a structure she was making, hands and feet muddy.
Their daughter was almost eleven.
And he wasn’t here.
The faint scent of dinner wafted through the air as Daisy rose from her seating area. It was getting late now. Stars twinkled somewhere far off in the sky. The sun finally died down, then it was gone. Only the red horizon remained.
“Hey Charlie, how about we go back inside?”
“M’kay,”
She didn’t look up until Daisy called her again, but instead of moving she went still.
“C’mon Charlie. It’s getting late. Why’d you—”
She bumped into something that was very much not an inanimate object.
She swallowed, heart pounding. Were one of the soldiers here? But the war was over. They said the war was over. Of course they would come for the rest of her family. Of course they—
“Daisy, please look at me. Please,”
She could never forget that voice.
Not when it sounded so broken.
She turned to see the face of a man once pronounced dead. The ‘hero’ who died from a bomb that killed the men who hurt his people. She saw his face, lined with scars and a stare far too distant to what she was used to. She saw the handsome folds of his hair covered in dust and the mud that stained his face.
She hated this man.
Or rather she missed him so much it made her so angry to see that all this time he was still here.
“Dad? is it really you?”
Charlotte ran faster than he could respond.
Daisy watched it all: the loud sobbing as Charlotte buried her face into her father’s dust caked uniform, the way Guest nearly stumbled as he lifted her up into his arms and held her so tight and so close there was barely any space in between.
Then he looked at her.
And the world closed in on itself.
He set Charlotte on the ground and reached for Daisy, limbs trembling as he pulled her close, burying his head in her shoulder.
“I missed you two so, so much,”
He kissed her with a hunger she didn’t expect, lips trembling as he pulled away.
“I love you so much Daisy. I don’t ever want to leave you and Charlotte again.”
“I love you too. I’m glad you’re back…”
Her anger was still there, but it wasn’t directed at him anymore. She was angry the world took him away from her, but as she looked into those eyes of a man so wonderfully vulnerable you could see the cracks seeping to the surface, the anger vanished.
She was so incredibly happy.
***
“Hey Guesty,”
“Yeah?”
She was laying down next to him as he petted Charlie’s hair in the dark.
“Are you okay? Do you… need anything or—”
“I’m fine Daisy, don’t worry. I have you two, that’s all that matters.”
She shifted close to him, reaching for his hand, mindful of Charlie’s sleeping figure.
“Your voice tells me otherwise.”
He was silent, pausing his fidgeting with Charlotte’s hair, then he slowly moved her off of his lap and sighed.
“The war wasn’t a holiday."
“I know it wasn’t. That’s why I want to know how you’re feeling. I want you to feel safer than you felt on the battlefield, Guest. Just tell me how,”
He went quiet again, then he leaned down and kissed her. It was full of exhaustion and longing and something sweet. She loved it.
“I have you and Lottie. That’s enough for me. You have always been enough.”
“Aww,” she giggled, intertwining her fingers with his own.
“It’s the truth,”
“I love you,”
“I love you too, sweetheart,”