Burnt Wings

1

She flew out of her mother's arms as if she was a race horse after hearing the gunshot, right into the loving, caramel-coloured embrace of her father. Her paper-crisp dress whipped in the wind as the sky-blue ribbons tangled into her fiery curls. What neither of them was aware of was the obnoxious stone that was parked in her line of movement. Sophia's eyes shifted from youthful bliss to raw terror in a matter of milliseconds. Her protector did not move fast enough; his arthritic joints betrayed his paternal heart when he shot out to catch her before...

Andrew woke up with a start, the high African sun piercing his eyes. He had put on his favourite playlist of old songs and had fallen asleep to 'Butterfly Kisses'. He rested his head back on the synthetic leather couch chair and let out a sigh. After the gears started turning, he realised that his phone's blaring ringtone was the reason he had woken up. He answered without checking the caller ID.

"Hello?" his voice was thick from unfulfilling sleep.

"Hi Daddy," a silvery voice replied, making Andrew jump up.

"Sophia?" the shock was crystal clear.

"I realise it's been fifteen years, but you can't have forgotten your only child," Sophia's sarcasm mocked him.

"I haven't forgotten," he sputtered, sinking back in his chair, "but you said you never wanted to speak to me again."

"That was a long time ago," Andrew imagined her saying with a hand on one hip.

"Soph, what's wrong? Why are you calling me?" he asked as his eyes darted to the bleak photographs on the beige walls.

"I'm sick. I have stage four lung cancer."

The line had gone silent and Andrew had momentarily forgotten how to breathe.

"Daddy? Dad? You still alive?" she asked, not caring for the answer.

"Yes, sorry. But Sophia, when did this happen? You've never been terribly sick."

"They say it's genetic. Anyways, I've just been discharged from the hospital and I need somewhere to stay," she said like it was nothing.

"What about your husband? Daniel...David, was it?"

"Harry, Dad."

"I never liked that guy..." he had gotten up to grab his machine-made coffee.

"You made that very clear when you refused to walk me down the aisle," her tone was stone cold.

"Right..." Andrew paused, his brained ticked, "How are the kids?"

"Harry took Mia and Cal to live with his mistress a week after I signed the divorce papers."

"Well, shit Soph. I'm so-"

"Don't do that Dad," she interrupted him, "You never cared."

"Of course I care, I'm your father!"

"Well haven't you done a swell job at it?" Sophia was completely oblivious of her father's knuckles turning a sickly white. "You have a chance to redeem yourself, however. I'm thirty minutes out." The call had ended and Andrew was left with a headache and cold coffee.