His Heart

Chapter nine: Charlie

"Papá, can we go to the park?" Leo asked.

"Sure. Why not?" I said. "Do you want to see if your sister wants to come?"

He ran upstairs to Maddie's room and I went to the corridor to wait for him. 

There was a lot of shouting and I heard her door slam. 

"Lee?" I called, heading up the stairs. "What's the matter?" 

"I didn't do anything." He frowned. "She didn't want me to open her door." 

"Did you knock?" 

"Yes." 

I knocked on her door. 

"Go away." She mumbled. 

"What's the matter, carinõ?" I said. 

I heard a quiet sobbing and entered the room, cautiously. 

"Cariño?" I said, softly. 

"Get out of my room!" She yelled, she threw a book at me and I dodged it. 

"Chica, that is not the way we treat people. Pick that book up and we will talk about it properly." I scolded in Spanish. "Que pasa, ninã?"

"Perderse y dejarme sola." She yelled.

I ran a hand through my hair.

"We don't talk to people like that in this house." I told her. "Tell me what's wrong?" 

She continued sobbing and I blinked in bewilderment. 

"Is it Mamá?" I asked. "Are you having a sad day?" 

She shook her head and I started to panic. This was the part of parenting a girl that I couldn't do. Her mamá would know what to do. She always knew what to do. But her hormones were a minefield I had never imagined crossing alone. 

I wondered how many more of these moments we were going to have. Moments where we were just stumbling along, wishing that her mamá could be here to be her hero. 

I sat down in her chair and waited whilst she continued to sob, waiting for her to explain what I had to do. 

"Cariño, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong." I said, gently. "Do you want to talk to me?" 

"I need my mamá." She sobbed. 

"I know you do." I said, close to tears myself. "But I can't bring her back. You can tell me what's wrong?" 

"It hurts." 

"What hurts?" 

She stopped crying and looked at me. Reluctantly, she moved away and I stared at the bloodstain on the bedsheets, trying to process what was happening. 

"Ok." I said, after a minute. "Ok. We'll sort this out." 

I kissed her forehead and wiped her tears, gently. 

"Why don't you have a shower and I'll put everything in the wash." I said. "Do you have anything to use?" 

She shook her head. 

"That's ok. I'll go to the shops now and get something." I soothed. "You have a shower and use some toilet paper for now, and I'll be back in ten minutes." 

I kissed her forehead again, and stood up, feeling a fresh wave of grief wash over me. But this time, I wasn't sure if it was grief for my wife that she had missed such a special moment in her daughter's life. Or grief for my little girl, who was becoming a woman right before my eyes.