Two officers were sitting on the couch when Rebecca entered the living room. Both men stood as she approached, offering her a handshake and a smile. Rebecca looked over both officers as they introduced themselves, knowing there was no way she would remember their names for more than a few minutes. Her mother, on the other hand problem knew their names, the names of their wives, children, and mother.
Officer Holdens was the older of the two, a man in his mid-forties who wore a serious expression that seemed to be his one and only facial expression. The younger man was in his twenties. Rebecca believed he said his name was Officer Johnson, but she hadn't really payed much attention. Her mind was too busy going over the little information she knew about her father.
From pictures in the hall, Rebecca remembered her father's face. Dark, loving eyes, messy hair, that occasionally would be slicked back and under control. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his tie loosened, as he leaned over her crib...wait what...Rebecca shut her eyes, trying to hold onto the image.
"Hush, my Becky baby," he said softly, lying the young Rebecca in her bed. The little one cried as soon as her father set her down, her hands stretched upward, begging to be picked back up and back in the safety of her father's strong arms.
"How is she supposed to learn her name if you keep giving her little pet names?" a woman asked.
"Melissa, she's a smart child, she knows her name. Becky is just more suitable, Rebecca's too big a mouthful for such a tiny one."
Eyes rolled as she turned around, leaving the room. The man turned back to the infant, smiling as he began to sing.
"Hush my child, time to sleep
may my memory you keep.."
The voice began to trail off as young Rebecca closed her eyes, drifting off to Hushabye Mountain on her father's lullaby.
"No, don't go yet."
"Are you ok, child?"
Rebecca jumped, looking into the concerned eyes of the officers. She glanced over at her mother, catching her eye and seeing the disappointment in them. A lecture was certain to occur once the officers left.
"Rebecca, Officer Holdens asked you a question," her mother said, her tone even, professional.
"I-I'm sorry sir, I wasn't paying attention." She made herself look into his eyes, knowing failure to do so would only further anger the woman standing nearby.
"It's quite alright, Rebecca," Officer Holdens told her. "Are you ok? You seem distant."
"Rebecca is a dreamer," her mother told them, before the young teen could open her mouth to speak. "Maybe we could reschedule this conversation for tomorrow? I have an important meeting in less than an hour, and Rebecca needs to prepare for her piano lessons."
"Yes, of course. We will contact you tomorrow to speak of a suitable time to speak with you."
Rebecca sat there as her mother showed the officers to the door, thanking the officers for coming, apologizing for the inconvenience of her busy schedule, and wishing them a safe evening.
When she shut the door, she turned to her daughter. "What was that about Rebecca?"716Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡp4YikTVt0u
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"Becky."
Her mother stared at her, as if she had grown another head. "What did you say?"
Rebecca shrugged. "Becky, not Rebecca. I like Becky better."
"What is wrong with the name Rebecca? You don't need some stupid petty nickname when your name works perfectly well. Besides, Becky isn't even a proper name."
"Dad liked it," Rebecca snapped. Her mother's eyes went wide.
"You, young lady, know nothing about your father or what he liked."
Rebecca jumped to her feet, standing to face her mother, temper flaring. "You know why? Because you won't even let me talk about him. All you do is cut him down and make it seem like I either can't or shouldn't have any memory of him. At least he respected my decisions. He didn't try to run my life! He didn't try to choose my future for me! He loved me."
With that, Rebecca turned, running up the stairs to her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her, more to anger her mother than anything. She ran her hand across the dresser, knocking make-up, picture frames, and hair clips to the floor. She picked up a book from her bedside table, and was about to throw it, when she stopped, remembering a scene from years ago.
Young Rebecca sat there, happily tearing the pages out of her mother's cook books, enjoying the sound they made as they were ripped from the spine. A shadow fell over her, causing her to look up at the man standing over her.
Daddy.
He took the book from her hand, kneeling down next to her. "Becky, we don't tear up books. Books are special portals to other lands. They hold secrets to good food, magical places, or the past. You aren't old enough to understand now, but one day you will. No more hurting books, Becky."
The two year old nodded, holding her arms up, an unspoken request to be picked up.
Rebecca sat the book down with a sigh, sitting down on her bed and drawing her knees up to her chest. She reached down to pick up one of the pictures she had knocked from the dresser, her hand softly tracing the cheek of the man in the photograph.
"Daddy, what happened to you?"
Then, the little girl who always hid behind a mask did something she hadn't done in a long time. She closed her eyes, clutched the picture to her chest, and cried.
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