“Take what you want. Nothing can stop you.”
Yeah, maybe. That was the kind of thing I’d been telling her already. I could just try to find some other variants of the same encouragement.
I finished up in the bathroom and looked at my watch. It was past midnight. Time to turn in. I headed to the bedroom as quietly as I could, trying to avoid waking Ava. My wife had already gone to bed a couple of hours ago; being an airline pilot meant she quite often had weird work hours. As one of the rare few female pilots out there, she’d been promoted pretty fast the last few years as part of the airline’s recent equality drive. It meant more work, and she also had to travel a lot, spending a lot of time away from home, but at least the money was good.
Besides, Ava’s recurring absence had brought Alisha and I closer together. We would make our meals together, work in the yard, sit and chat… Those talks were really nice – and, of course, they were how I first heard that she was having issues. It felt really good being taken into her confidence rather than being shut out. Typically, daughters don’t necessarily feel comfortable opening up to their parents – much less their dads – and tell them about her feelings and problems.
I had a lot to be grateful for. As I went to bed, I felt like the luckiest man alive. Sleeping next to my beautiful, successful wife, in the room right next to my beautiful daughter… it was more than any man could ask for.
I woke a bit early the next day. I felt drowsy. Like the kind of drowsy you feel when you’ve woken and it’s too late to go back to sleep, but you feel like you could probably manage it if you tried. It was Friday; I only had two clients today and they were both after lunch, so I could actually take another couple of hours…
Then I heard some clattering noises from the kitchen. I became more alert, my mind taking another step away from going back to sleep. I glanced at the radio clock. 6:12 a.m. Might as well get up, I thought. Have a nice, long breakfast. Maybe get to the office early. Get some paperwork done.
I stumbled out to the bathroom and yawned as I looked in the mirror. The light was dimmed low all over the house; my wife liked it like that in the mornings. I could still see that I needed a shave, though. And a shower, actually. Shave first, then shower? Yes. I had time to cook something nice this morning. I’d do it myself, as usual; having a busy career woman for a wife meant she didn’t always have time to cook for her husband. At least she always made coffee.
I laughed to myself as I started up the electric razor. Nah, we had never been a ‘traditional’ couple, there was never any question about her giving up her career. The success she was having, not to mention the money she was raking in, we had always taken it as a given that this family thing was going to be a team effort. Cooking and cleaning, raising the kid… teamwork was key.
As I stood there in front of the mirror, letting my thoughts wander, it occurred to me that I actually quite enjoy the sound of an electric razor. As a kid, I used to wake to the sound of one every morning, as my dad did his morning rituals in the bathroom next to my room. I closed my eyes and moved the razor gently back and forth across my chin. It was nice. This was going to be a nice morning.