Father’s Day
Naminé woke up and checked the calendar. Father’s Day. A small smile came to her face and she got out of bed to get dressed. It was still a little early; surely he wouldn’t be awake. It gave her enough time to go downstairs and cook breakfast as a surprise.
She crept downstairs and sighed in relief when the kitchen was indeed empty. Now she could work in peace. Naminé wasn’t planning on cooking him a feast, especially because there were only two of them, but she was making something a little extra special today. Having access to better ingredients improved her cooking, and now she was cooking two omelets, some bacon, and four slices of toast.
Naminé set the table and placed a card addressed to “Dad” to the left of his fork, where he wouldn’t be able to miss it. She hurried, wondering if the smell of the food would awaken him and make him come downstairs. If it did, she wanted it to be perfect and on the plates before he came down.
She was about halfway through her meal before she realized that he must have slept through her cooking, or maybe he was just now waking up. Naminé got to her feet and climbed back up the stairs to his room. By now she had had enough trouble sleeping or coming into his room to wake him up that she usually wasn’t nervous about going into her father’s room, but today... today was a little different. She really wanted him to be in there, but she didn’t want to admit that to herself as she pushed it open.
Empty. The bed was empty, the room was empty. Even the closet was empty. “That’s all right,” she told herself as she shut the door behind her, “he’ll just come later in the day.” With that, she finished her omelet and all four slices of toast, and then put the other omelet and the bacon away.
As soon as she finished washing the dishes, she headed into the living room to curl up on one of their armchairs. Naminé placed a small gift bag and the card from before onto the coffee table. She wanted to be there the second he got home. In the meantime, however, she would draw. Sketches upon sketches of him, of them. He smiled in some, laughed in others, frowned and was angry--it didn’t really matter what he looked like, so long as he was there. Naminé loved her father just as he was, and she wanted him to know it.
It was tiring after a while, though. Naminé had skipped lunch by the time she realized she had been drawing all day. She’d need to cook dinner soon. Of course he’d be home for dinner, surely. Even if he was a little late, he’d be home and she could warm up food for him. So she--with some difficulty--mashed potatoes and cooked steak in the oven. A special occasion, she reasoned. She wasn’t going to make steak every day, but if there was any day, it’d be Father’s Day.
Again she laid the card by his plate and, after waiting a few long minutes, began eating her dinner. “He’s just late,” she reasoned, but her bites were getting smaller and smaller and her heart less in it than before. Finally she finished her portion and slowly stood to put the food away and clean the dishes.
There’s still time, she told herself. Cloud was just late, or he forgot the day. It wasn’t like the worlds all ran on the same calendar or the same time. She knew that. He’d be home soon, he just had to be.
Dishes cleaned and on the drying rack, she went back to the living room and sat on the couch this time. Naminé had her card in her hands, running her finger along the letters and occasionally pressing it to her chin. He’d be home soon. Cloud would be home soon. He had to be. She just needed to stay up late enough. When he came through the door she’d jump on him and squeal, “Daddy!” just like she had wanted to when she would have seen him come down the stairs this morning for breakfast.
Naminé went to bed around ten usually, so when eleven rolled around her eyelids were drooping. She was tired, but there was still an hour left. Still an hour for him to come home for Father’s Day. By now she had stretched out across the couch and had wrinkled the card so that it wasn’t pristine anymore. She barely registered the clock when it chimed that it was fifteen after.
Naminé was asleep, curled up on the couch, the card clutched in her hand, when she felt herself awakened by a strange sensation. Someone was gently taking her into his arms and carrying her up the stairs. She knew who this was, she thought drowsily. Cloud. Cloud had come home, just like she had known.
“Happy Father’s Day, Daddy,” she mumbled, snuggling closer, the card still in her hand. “I love you.”
He laid her down into bed and tucked her in a little awkwardly, which was just like him, and kissed her forehead. “I love you too.”
