A Single Daffodil

“Okay, seriously? Taco Bell is legit ahead of the curve with this masterpiece.” Jayden draped his body across the sofa in my living room as he cradled the cold slushy on his chest. “These, my friend, are God’s gift.”

I was sprawled out on the adjacent couch, raising my own slushy above my head. “And then the Lord said, ‘Let there be Dr. Pepper Vanilla Float Freeze!’”

“We need some Lion King music, man. This shit ain’t being appreciated the right way!” Jayden started to do an appalling rendition of the Circle of Life song, earning a laugh from me.

“Spare me the crooning, Jayden. Please.” I begged, shaking my head.

It was around 3:30 pm on a Sunday afternoon when Jayden decided to stop by with a couple of treats from Taco Bell. He couldn’t stay long, on account of having prior engagements at the race track. After being home for two weeks, Jayden was already back on track with his usual agenda. He spent every morning at the gym with a trainer and then in the late afternoons, he was practicing his jumps and flips and 360’s on his dirt bike. Sophia too, was back to her usual Miami ways. Pilate classes, babysitting one of her many siblings and/or cousins, attending church on Sundays, returning to the social scene on Saturday nights, et cetera. Everyone and everything was back to normal in Miami, Florida.

Except me, of course.

Waking up every morning was a struggle. Keeping myself distracted from lingering thoughts about Harry was a task in itself, but I was also still trying to adjust to living in South Beach without having Grandpa Gene nearby. I brought Robin over to his house five times in the past two weeks and all five times were very bittersweet for me. I would play his favorite Frank Sinatra records, make coffee on his accent coffeemaker, and relish in the beauty of his sunroom. From the easel holding the incomplete painting to the pillows leaning up against the sofa, everything remained untouched. There was always something so remarkable about Grandpa Gene’s sunroom, especially in the mornings. When the prime sun rays luster through the ceiling windows and shine across all the paintings sitting in the room, I swear something magical happens. The paintings come to life, all rich and vibrant, and the sound of Frank Sinatra’s voice bounces off the walls and echoes into the sunroom, all lovingly and sweet. If I sat still long enough, I could almost sense Grandpa Gene’s presence in the air and hear his voice, humming along, ever so softly, to his favorite song.

When I sat on the floor of the sunroom, gingerly flipping through each canvas he ever painted, I felt myself smiling. Because while I missed having Grandpa Gene around like crazy, he wasn’t entirely gone. He was watching over me with Grandma, and what he left behind for me was such a gift, I couldn’t believe how spoiled I was. His artwork was everything that his soul encompassed. And they were still here, with me.

I felt refreshed every time I left Grandpa Gene’s house because I no longer felt like his passing was so tragic. And while I missed him every second of every day that passed, it didn’t hold me down as much as it did before. He was still here with me, just in another form.

But the struggle to find happiness was still too ambitious for me. There was a gaping hole in my chest that ached every morning, afternoon, evening and night. How do I even describe heartbreak? How I feel about what happened between me and Harry? There were no words in the English language to describe what I was feeling. It just felt like there was nothing left of me, that I’d somehow given away all of me. And there was just this imminent feeling of absolute despair and numbness, like I will never feel fixed again. I was off kilter. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I said to Harry on the beach. It played over and over and over again in my mind. I don’t think I’ll ever escape the moment I told him I loved him.

Isn’t it peculiar that all of these feelings can be devised by one person in your life?

“Hey Jayden, can I ask you something?” I sat up on the couch, placing the empty slushy cup on the coffee table.

“What’s up, Vita Zurita?”

“Was I wrong in telling Harry about how I felt about him?”

Jayden sat up then, scrunching his brows into a low V as he gave me a confused look. “Now, what kinda talk is that? Of course you weren’t wrong.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He confirmed, nodding his head. “Harry’s the one who made the mistake, not you. He let you go.”

I started picking my nails, my heart rate picking up extra beats. This always happened when I heard his name. “I just feel like…maybe I should of kept my mouth shut. I knew he had a girlfriend and I still made that home-wrecker move, even after Harry told me he just wanted to be friends.”

“Okay, here’s something you need to know: you and Harry would have never worked out as friends. Why? Because the intensity between you two was like, stupidly strong. There’s no middle ground.” Jayden said. “Like, I don’t know how to explain it. There was always this lingering passion. It was this certain type of energy that was much too severe to make the relationship between you and Harry ‘just friends’.”

I sat quietly, considering Jayden’s words. If there was so much passion between me and Harry, why didn’t he stop me from leaving France? Why didn’t he love me back?

“Listen, Harry’s a fucking idiot, okay?” Jayden said again. “I met that Tanya chick and she is so disgusting. Her face looks like my left ass-cheek and her voice was whiney and there was nothing intellectually stimulating about the five minute conversation I had with her at Liam’s party that one time. And you want to know the worst part?”

“What’s the worst part?” I asked, still laughing at the ass-cheek comment he just made.

“When I asked her what house she would like to be sorted in at Hogwarts, she picked Hufflepuff.” Jayden gave me a look of disgust. “Hufflepuff, Vita. I mean…if that doesn’t say a lot about a person, I don’t know what does.”

“What a brute! Anyone with a brain would pick Gryffindor.”

“Gryffindor.” Jayden said it the same time as I did. “Exactly!”

I grinned. I was so thankful to have a best friend like Jayden. Even through my darkest moments, he knew how to put a smile on my face.

“Hey, for real though.” Jayden said again, this time in a more serious tone. “Harry messed up. And I know it sounds like baloney now, but you’re going to find someone new. Someone better.”

“I hope so.” I gave him a small smile, even though I knew it wasn’t true. What I had with Harry was something that only happened once in a lifetime.



The incessant banging on my front door started an hour after Jayden left for practice. I was cleaning the dishes in the kitchen when the knocking started. It was so sudden and unexpected that I jumped backwards with fright, dropping the soap-covered dish into the sink.

“Jesus Christ.” I swore under my breath, ripping off the yellow rubber gloves from my hands and peering out the kitchen window.

My heart started racing uncontrollably when I saw what was parked on my driveway.

A shiny black Jaguar convertible. Limited edition. There were only 100 of them made.

“Fuck.” I whispered under my breath.

My dad was here.

When I opened the door, I wasn’t given a chance to greet him. He brushed passed me and marched straight into my living room.

“Uh, come in?” I asked sarcastically, still standing by the door. I could tell, rather quickly, that this visit wasn’t going to be a pleasant one.

When I closed the front door shut and walked into the living room, my dad had already stopped in the middle of the room, his back towards me. By the time I reached him, he aggressively swung around to face me. He was dressed in his usual attire; a black suit and crisp white shirt. The dark circles underneath his eyes were something fierce, and it was easy to see that my dad hadn’t slept enough in the past two days. If my math was right, the team’s plane landed in Miami last night. They were probably all stuck doing press related events all morning. Just like I— as well as the rest of the world—predicted, the team won gold at the Olympics. You would think a coach that won something of that caliber would be so happy and ready to celebrate the win.

My Dad, apparently, had other ideas.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Was his opening statement. His eyes were dark with anger, his jaw clenched. He pushed back the tails of his jacket, placing his hands on his hips. Ah, there it was. The classic Eric Spoelstra Stance. “What makes you think you can just leave a country without telling me?”

“Last I checked, I could do whatever the fuck I want.” I said it with ease. It was almost comical that it took my dad this long to figure out I wasn’t in London for the past two weeks. He probably only just realized it halfway across the Atlantic with the rest of the teammates.

“Excuse me!?” My dad was even more furious, the word ‘fuck’ knocking the wind right out of him. Finally, I was getting the reaction I wanted. “You do not talk to me like that, Vita Spoelstra. I am your father.”

That’s when I let out a hysterical laugh, although there was nothing funny about this situation. “Oh, now, you want to play the father card? Wow, that’s great, dad. That’s fucking brilliant.”

“Hey!” He bellowed. “You have no reason to speak to me with such disrespect.”

“No reason? No reason!?” I yelled the words with so much hatred, I could practically taste the revulsion in my mouth. Robin, who was once asleep on a nearby chair, woke up with a start and quickly retreated into my bedroom. Smart cat. “Oh, I have reason. I have a lot of reasons, Dad. I could write a fucking trilogy of reasons on why I will never respect you as a human being again, let alone a Father.”

For a split second, my dad’s face crumpled. It was strange witnessing my dad experience any type of emotion other than determination and competitive drive. I wanted to push him further now, all my pent up anger towards him finally being released.

“Why are you saying these things?” He asked, his expression settling back into a glare.

“Because who are we kidding here? You’re not my Dad anymore! Not really!” I let out another bitter laugh. “What kind of Dad doesn’t care about their family? Better yet, what kind of father abandons their daughter in a time of crisis?”

“What on earth are you talking about?” My dad was bewildered by my words.

“You don’t get it, do you?” I was yelling the words so loudly, my throat ached from the sharpness. I felt hysterical when I started waving my hands at my dad. “You abandoned me. You abandoned Grandpa Gene.”

“No, I—”

Oh, I cut him off so quick, I didn’t even let the idea finish in his head. “You never called Grandpa Gene. You never visited, you never checked to see if he was okay, you never asked about him. He was your father. How could you ignore someone who raised you?” I could feel the heat behind my eyes and I blinked a couple of times, hoping the urge to cry would disappear. “You left him on his deathbed because you just had to coach a basketball game. He died thinking he disappointed you as a father. He died thinking it was his fault you didn’t want to speak to him. He blamed himself!”

My dad’s jaw went slack, his expression immediately softening. Now he was watching me with disbelief, his eyes were wide and his brows creased. He reached up to rub his mouth before resting his fingers on his chin. “Vita…”

“And what about me, Dad? Why’d you have to abandon me too?” I asked frantically. My voice cracked as my vision became blurry from the tears. “You knew how much Grandpa Gene meant to me. When he died, I was barely hanging by a thread. All I wanted to do was mourn with you, dad. I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t find you. It felt like I lost both of you.” My bottom lip quivered as I looked down at my shaking hands, desperately trying to catch my breath. “This was something I never thought I had to do. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that this is even something that someone has to go through alone. That’s the worst part.”

My dad took two long strides towards me and engulfed me into a tight hug just as I burst into tears. All the frustration and sadness I felt towards my seriously mangled family life had finally exploded. I was slowly accepting Grandpa Gene’s passing, that I was sure of, but I was still so upset with how things have gone sour between me and my dad. I hated being alone.

“I’m sorry, Vita.” My dad’s voice quivered. He protectively placed a hand on my hair, rocking me back and forth. “I am so sorry Vita. You’re right, you don’t deserve to go through this alone.”

I choked on a sob as a response, clinging to him with all my might.

“I know it doesn’t feel like it, but I’ve been here, Vita. I watched you confront the pain and your fear. I envied you.” My dad’s voice was soft and infected with agony. “I envied you because I hadn’t confronted mine. I didn’t want the separation between me and my father to be my fault, but it was. My father and I…we always saw the world differently. And our relationship…it was irreparable after my mother died. He changed. He became introverted and quiet and he always disappeared into his art. I could never relate to that. I never understood it.” He paused after his voice broke at the end of the sentence. I stayed quiet, listening keenly. This was the most words we’ve exchanged to one another in the past year. “But you understood it, my dear girl. I couldn’t be more grateful for how your relationship with him flourished. He needed someone like you around. You gave him things that I couldn’t.”

I pulled away so I could look at my dad then. It was startling to see my dad like this, honest and ruffled by Grandpa Gene’s death. It was what I’d been searching for months now; my dad had finally showed emotion.

“I don’t want the same type of relationship between you and me.” He spoke again, carefully wiping his thumbs under my eyes. “You are my daughter, Vita. You are so mature and strong for your age and I take advantage of that because I know I don’t ever have to worry about you. I don’t want to be the kind of father that isn’t around when you need me, especially like a time of mourning. I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like you couldn’t confide in me. The last thing I want you to think is that you’re alone.”

“I’m sorry too, dad.” I hugged him again, closing my eyes shut. This was what I wanted all along. For my dad to recognize he was wrong and to understand where I came from. Hearing him say all these things were making me feel relief—a feeling I haven’t felt in so, so long. “I didn’t mean the things I said before. I want us to be a family again.”

“We never stopped being a family.” He kissed the top of my head. “I love you, Vita.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

We still had a lot to work on—a big emphasis on a lot—but this conversation was a breakthrough for us. The relationship between me and my dad has been damaged for years but maybe with Grandpa Gene’s passing, it would bring us closer. We only had each other now, and maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.