Puppet

Momma had picked me up early from school. It was cold outside now. So I was bundled up in an old jacket of Momma’s and a pair of boots that Grandma had bought for me last year. They were a little too small and they squished my toes, but I didn’t have any other choice. Momma had stopped driving me to school and picking me up because she decided that if I had to walk, I might be able to make more friends. So, for the last year and a half I had started walking to school. By myself. And for the last year and a half, I had been walking home from school. The only thing that accompanied me was the snow. Or the leaves. Or the ridicule of other kids at school.

But on this particular day, I was in the fifth grade. And I was ten years old. I was sitting at my desk, playing with eraser pieces in my lap. The teacher called my name and I jumped in my seat, looking at her with wide eyes.

“Yes?”

“Your mom is in the office. She’s here to pick you up early.”

I nodded and went into the cubby area to get my back pack and walked out of class. I walked quietly to the office were Momma was standing with her keys clutched tightly in her hand.

“Hi Momma.”

“Hey, Puppet.” She said softly. “You ready to go?”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to go see Daddy.”

I looked up at her with wide eyes. I hadn’t seen Daddy since the third grade. Daddy was always in a lot of trouble. He was never at home and when he did come home, him and Momma were always fighting. He would come in my room and kiss me on the forehead and told me that he loved me. Sometimes he would clean my room for me or dig around in my closet because he was sure there was a noise. I used to fall asleep with my bedroom light on and Daddy messing around in my room. In the morning, I would wake up and he would be gone.

Even when Daddy wasn’t in trouble he was never really at home. He used to work a lot. He had to. Because Momma had always been real sick after she had me and so she had hard time finding a job. So Daddy had to work double to make sure that we had a house and food.

But one night when Daddy came home, some people followed him. The police followed him. There were about four or five of them and they had flashing red lights and they kept me up for hours. There was a lot of fighting and screaming. Momma was crying a lot. And they came into my room and asked me my name and asked me if Daddy had ever hurt me.

I told them no.

Then they took him away and I haven’t seen him since.

Momma and I got into the car and we were quiet for a long time as she drove.

“Why are we going to see Daddy?”

She sighed loudly and looked over at me. “Daddy is really sick and so he wants us to come see him for a little while. He doesn’t feel good and he thinks that our company would make him feel better.”

“Is he dying?”

Momma looked over at me. “Yes, Puppet. Daddy’s dying.”

“Does he have cancer?”

“No.”

“Why is he dying?”

“Because, Puppet. Bad people die.”

I didn’t say anything else to Momma. I didn’t see Daddy as a bad person. He had never hit me or hurt me in any way. The worst he’d ever done was keep me awake at night time with the light. And I had never seen him hurt Momma. I guess that he made her cry a lot. But I thought that was just because she missed him while he was gone.

We pulled up outside a big white building and our shoes squeaked against the linoleum because they were wet. We walked up to a big window and Momma had a short conversation with the woman behind the desk. We were then taken into a room with eight tables. There were a lot of people in there. On one side of all the tables were men wearing orange clothes. And on the other side were lots of women, some babies, and even a couple grandmas and grandpas. There were lots of kids that were my age, but I didn’t say hi to any of them.

And then I saw Daddy. He had one arm in the air and was waving at us to come and sit down by him. His arms were long and skinny, tattooed all over the place. His orange hair was in a ponytail going down his back and his green eyes shined up at us.

“Puppet!” He said loudly, reaching over the table to hug me.

But a man with a black uniform on stopped us. “No physical contact.”

I looked up at him and he had the meanest eyes I’d ever seen.

We sat down at the table across from Daddy. He looked up at Momma.

“How are you, Makayla?”

She looked at him with tears in her eyes. “I’m alright, Chris. And you?”

He laughed and sat back, his skinny arms crossed over his skinny chest. His eyes were excited, but they looked tired. “I’m doing about as good as I can.”

“Momma says you’re dying. That’s why we are here today.”

“Puppet!” Momma snapped, slapping me on the arm.

“Makayla.”Daddy sighed. “It’s okay. She’s got a right to know. I am her father.”

“You’ve really acted like it the last few years.”

“Haven’t really had a choice. I’ve been locked up in here.”

Momma looked away, but I couldn’t. I was studying everything about Daddy. His skinny arms all covered in tattoos. His skinny neck covered in wrinkles. His eyes and his hair that looked so much like mine. I was Daddy, but instead I was a little girl. And I missed Daddy. Even though he was never home, I missed him being there sometimes.

And I didn’t want him to die.

“Puppet,” Daddy paused. “I did some really bad things that have made me really sick and now I’m going to die.”

“Aren’t you sad?”

Daddy shook his head. “Life happens, Puppet. This is my fault.”

“So does that mean that you get to come home for a little while?”

“No, Puppet.”

“When do you get to come home?”

“I’m not coming home.”

And then Daddy started asking about school and my teachers. Asked about boys with cooties. And we were done talking about him dying.