SIMON

Most of my life, I’d been a morning person. Mornings were good things, full of new opportunities and carrying so much potential. After a full eight hours of peaceful sleep, I’d normally start with a cup of fresh coffee and a bright outlook…

For the last couple of years, those days had become a rarity.

It would help if I started by sleeping at a reasonable time, instead of waiting until I was nodding off on the sofa at the break of dawn.

Thankfully I had a live-in alarm clock; I could feel tiny hands shaking me awake as I grumbled for a moment, trying to turn over in bed and escape the bother. A weight bounced onto my bed; my covers pulled back, exposing me to the chilly morning air.

“Dad!” The whining tone, inches from my face, made me finally open my eyes. Narrowed green eyes and a petulant frown surrounded by auburn curls were the first thing I saw before my shoulders were shaken more viciously than before. “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake—”

“I’m already awake, Maya,” I muttered. I sat up slowly, so as to not topple my daughter over.

She didn’t seem any happier as she crossed her arms. “Dad, you have gloopies in your eyes.”

I rubbed my eyes subconsciously, still barely awake. “I’ll wash my face in a second.” I gave her a gentle push toward the edge of the bed. “Come on. You should wash yours, too.”

“I did! Brushed my teeth, too. I’m not lazy, Dad.”

I pressed my lips together for a moment, taking the childish insult in stride. “Good job. Why don’t you go out to the kitchen while I get dressed, then? I’ll get you breakfast once I’m done.”

Maya’s pout disappeared with the mention of food. “Okay! You coming after, Dad? You coming?”

“I’m coming, Maya.”

She crawled over me to get off the bed, making me wince at the jab of her elbow when she used me as leverage. “I want pancakes!” Her voice, high pitched with delight, made me flinch slightly before her feet hit the floor. I felt a moment of relief as she dashed out of my room and down the hall; her excitement was more tolerable when she wasn’t squealing in my ear.

“Hey! Go get dressed first!” I called after her, unsure if she had heard me. Kids were so damn fast when they wanted something. At least it got her out of my room. Getting ready would be a lot easier without a five-year-old demanding attention. Or that’s what I thought, until a low whine and gentle bark reminded me I was forgetting about the other needy creature I had to feed in the morning.

“Wanna go outside?” I half groaned as I pushed myself up and away from my warm, soft mattress; it was practically begging me to stay wrapped under the covers.

My words set the dog free from his bed; sixty pounds of white fluff hurtled into my knees and nearly knocked me back onto the floor. I couldn’t help a laugh as I scratched behind the affectionate dog’s ears. “You’re no better than her, Bear,” I teased, the massive Samoyed always holding a soft spot in my heart. I couldn’t help but let him bound around my feet while I walked.

As I reached the living room, I grimaced seeing the mess across the floor. Crayons and coloring books were tossed among toys, which I had to stop Bear from chewing and slobbering over more than once. I should have cleaned up the night before, but I simply hadn’t had the energy or the forethought to leave myself time for the morning. I stepped over Maya’s toys to let Bear into the yard. The wind gave a bite to the cold air, making me shiver and hurry to close the door.

I sighed, trying to call upon the willpower to find the ‘morning person’ in me—which was hard on three hours of sleep and a rather rambunctious wake-up call. With no idea how I’d managed to get all the buttons in the right places on my dress shirt and the coffee properly brewed, I rushed to get Maya breakfast.

Thankfully, she’d contented herself with bouncing on one of the low stools next to the kitchen counter. I paused to fix the collar of her shirt, which was sticking straight up around her neck. Grabbing the box of premade pancakes from the freezer, I threw a few onto a plate in the microwave. The machine took care of the food while I found the dog’s bowl and let him back inside to eat breakfast, too.

“Dad,” Maya called, her voice full of need. “Frozen stuff? Again?”

I made a face where she couldn’t see it, hiding my guilt with an offering of maple syrup. “Sorry, kid. No time for fresh ones.” Especially when I would burn them and end up making the premade ones anyway.

Maya mumbled to herself and though I was sure she was complaining, I didn’t have time to take it personally; we were already running late.

At least she was eating her pancakes; shoveling them down so fast she couldn’t have really tasted them. Maybe that’s the idea, I thought bitterly. I watched her while I sipped my coffee, leaning my elbows on the counter nervously as I glanced at the time.

“You’re sure energetic. Breathe between bites, please.”

Maya frowned at me, chewing her food and complying with heavy gasps of air. I was at least thankful I’d taught her that speaking with her mouth full of food was rude so she couldn’t talk back.

“Are you excited for school?” I asked hesitantly, “You even came to wake me up.”

She stared at me until she swallowed and her mouth was clear. “You woulda been mad if we were late.”

“You’re right. But aren’t you excited?”

“No. Not excited,” she grumbled, scowling at her remaining pancakes.

“It’s your first day at a new school! You’ll make tons of new friends. And you like school.”

“No, I don’t!” she snapped. “Nobody ever likes me, and I hate it! I don’t want to go. I want to stay home with you!”

“Maya…” I sighed, my brows furrowing in worry. What would Amber say? “It’s going to be okay. I know it was hard at your last school, but this one will be better. You used to love school! You would come home and tell your mom how much fun you had.” My smile fell as I immediately realized what I had said.

Maya pushed away her plate and the last of the pancakes. “Gonna find shoes,” she mumbled, trudging away with her head down.

I pulled in a deep breath and let it out on a long, disappointed sigh. Maya had a hard enough time without me talking about her mom. I berated myself silently as I cleared off her plate, pausing when I looked up at the refrigerator. It still didn’t get easier to be confronted with the pictures stuck to its surface with colorful magnets. My fingers brushed across my favorite—a photograph from Easter when Maya had stuck a pair of fuzzy bunny ears on my head. We were both grinning from ear to ear, just like the woman with us, whose hair was the same auburn color as Maya’s.

“Give me strength, Amber,” I pleaded in a whisper to myself. When the picture didn’t answer back, as I somehow thought it might, I let my hand drop from its surface. Another glance at the clock on the microwave gave me an unpleasant shock, and I chugged the remaining coffee quickly enough to scald my throat before calling for my daughter.

“Maya! We gotta go!”