Father, please dont come back any more! Every time you leave, Mother starts crying and she keeps on crying all night.
Ill fall asleep, wake up, fall asleep again, and shell still be sobbing. I asked her, Mum, why are you crying? Is it because of Father?
She said she wasnt crying at all, just sniffling because of a cold. Im old enough to know a cold never makes a voice sound like its weeping.
John Bennett sat at a little table in a tea shop with his sixyearold daughter, stirring the nowlukewarm coffee in a tiny white cup with a silver spoon.
Ethel didnt even touch the icecream in front of her. In the glass bowl beside it sat a little work of art: colourful marshmallows capped with a green leaf and a cherry, all drizzled in chocolate. Any girl her age would have swooned, but not Ethel. She had, as early as last Friday, decided it was time for a serious chat with her dad.
John stayed silent for a long while, then finally asked,
So, what are we to do, my love? Stop seeing each other altogether? How am I supposed to live then?
Ethel wrinkled her noseshed inherited Mothers cute, slightly potatoshaped oneand answered,
No, Father. I cant live without you either. Lets work this out. Call Mother and tell her youll pick me up from nursery every Friday. We can go for a walk, have a coffee or even sit in a café for an icecream. Ill tell you everything about how we live together.
She thought a moment longer and added,
And if you want to see Mother, Ill film her on my phone each week and show you the pictures. Alright?
John gave her a small smile, nodded and said,
All right, thats how well do it, dear.
Ethel let out a sigh of relief and finally picked up her icecream. Yet she wasnt finished. When the bright coloured marshmallows pressed against her nose, she licked them clean, then adopted a solemn, almost adult tone.
She was almost a woman, one who would one day look after her husband, even if he were already an old man. Just the week before, Johns birthday had been celebrated. Ethel had drawn him a huge 28 on a card at nursery, colouring it carefully.
Her face grew serious again, she furrowed her brows and said,
I think you should get married.
She added with a generous stretch of imagination,
Youre not that old yet, are you?
John chuckled at his daughters goodwill gesture and replied,
You might say not that old.
Ethel, brimming with enthusiasm, continued,
Not that old, not that old! Look, Uncle Stephen, whos visited Mother twice already, is a bit bald
She lifted a hand, smoothing the soft curls on the top of her head, then realised, after Johns sharp gaze met hers, that she had just spilled Mothers secret.
She pressed both palms to her mouth, widened her eyes, a look of horror and confusion spreading across her face.
Uncle Stephen? Whos this Uncle Stephen that keeps dropping by? Is he Mothers boss? John shouted, almost to the whole shop.
I dont know, Father Ethel stammered, taken aback by his sudden outburst. Maybe hes the boss. He brings me sweets and a cake for everyone.
She hesitated, wondering whether to share such a secret with a father she considered a bit unusual.
John, fingers intertwined on the table, stared at them for a long time. Ethel sensed that, in that very moment, he was about to make a very important decision in his life.
She, the young lady, waited patiently, not rushing him with conclusions. She already suspected that men can be stubborn, and that they sometimes need a gentle nudge from the women they cherish most.
John stayed silent, and at last he let out a deep sigh, lifted his head and said, If Ethel were a little older, shed understand the tone Im usinglike the tragic question Othello once asked Desdemona.
Ethel hadnt heard of Othello or Desdemona, but she was gathering life experience, watching people rejoice and suffer over the smallest things.
Finally, John said,
Come on, sweetheart. Its getting late; Ill take you home and then speak with Mother.
Ethel didnt ask what he intended to discuss, only that it must be important, and she hurried to finish her icecream.
She realized that what her father was about to decide mattered far more than even the tastiest treat, so she boldly jabbed her spoon into the table, slid off her chair, wiped her lips with the back of her hand, sniffed, and, looking straight at her father, declared,
Im ready. Lets go.
They didnt walk home; they almost ran. John led the way, holding Ethels hand so tightly she felt like a flag in the wind.
When they burst into the lift lobby, the doors of the elevator creaked shut, taking a neighbour up to the roof. John glanced bewildered at Ethel, then she looked up at him and asked,
So? Why are we waiting? Who are we expecting? Were only on the seventh floor.
John scooped Ethel up and raced up the stairs.
When Mother finally opened the door, John launched straight into his plea,
You cant do that! Whats this about Stephen? I love you, and I have Ethel
He kept Ethel in his arms, embraced Mother, and Ethel wrapped both of them around their necks, closing her eyes because the adults were now kissing.
Thus it happened that two baffled adults were soothed by a little girl who loved them both, and they loved her in return, though pride and old wounds lingered.
The truth they learned that night was simple: communication and a childs honest heart can bridge even the widest gaps between grownups.
