V. Before her paintings

"Hey, so…I just wanted to have some time with Eda," I spoke in the microphone.

Her anger was expressed by the loud silence of the early evening which followed my wish. I was actually surprised that it took more than three seconds for her to hang up her phone; the high-pitched tone resonated through my head like the buzzing of a bee constantly tempting my nerves. Though, I understood that an absent father suddenly trying to bond with his daughter would be a wary occurrence, which nonetheless could be possible. A minute later, after pondering under the highways' neon and blue lights, the idea of sending her a text came to my mind.

Couldn't remember where, but I've read that people were more likely to open up to you late in the night, though it wasn't particularly that dark, to begin with, or that she would open up to the one who abandoned their child. I was desperate, so why not cling on these [presumably] scientific facts, twist them a little bit to arrange the latter as motives for my case, and send her an apologetic message first; and so I did. It was a weird thing for me to write a text, let alone call someone or even ask them on a date or something along those lines; but as for the last one, I already tried many times to invite Hermione out, only resulting in an utter failure due to my cowardice. However, my life was on the line, and more importantly, Hermione's and probably Eda's wellbeing.

"I know that I wasn't there for Eda, but I've changed. I really want to know my daughter better before it's all too late, so I'd like to take her out and have some fun together. Please, I have to start fixing the bad things I've done with Eda, and also with you."

I skeptically fixed at my phone's screen; I had no idea whether Ed would write something like this or not. But considering that I was Ed now, I supposed pretending to be him would only lead to a worse outcome given his past behavior; well, mine wasn't that better either. So, I hit the send button and hastily waited for an answer. I continued gazing at the bright screen, "read" appeared; could Hermione really withstand the frustration of that notification? The guilt came again. I locked my phone and sighed before resuming going back to my apartment and having a nice slumber.

After what seemed an eternity during which I already reached my place, ate, took a shower, brushed my teeth, and tucked myself in my bed, my phone finally chimed.

"It's your right anyway. Take Eda at 8 a.m., no junk-food, no dangerous activities and bring her back at 5 p.m."

I sighed once more but this time in relief and set an alarm for 6:30 before closing my eyes and sleeping.

The next day, hearing the annoying buzzes escaping my phone reminded me how much I hated waking up early. For many nights, my pains in the lever kept me awake; thus, despising early awaking was a natural consequence as to how hating jail was for a prisoner. I didn't take too much time to prepare myself in order not to be late for Eda, and around 7:40, I was just in time to head over the McCartneys' home. Arriving there five minutes in advance, the little girl was already all set and waiting before her door. I guessed that Hermione wouldn't stand my presence; though, I could also guess that she was right before the door since Eda was oddly speaking through it.

"Hey Eda," I awkwardly said; I had no idea how to talk to a daughter you had left for a time you didn't even know.

"Hey… Dad…" she stuttered as much clumsily.

Then, no reply came into my mind; I wouldn't care normally, but it was my daughter that was standing before my eyes. After a heavy pause, I resumed our odd conversation.

"Well," I muttered. "Let's get going; there's a place I'd like to take you to and it's quite far away. We'll take breakfast during the trip."

"Alright," she shyly replied.

I took her hand, and she obediently followed with some anxiousness. I sat her in the rear seat, checked that her belt was well-fastened, and began to drive to the nearest gas station to prepare our journey, which began with the same uncomfortable silence. Once there, I filled up my tank, bought some water bottles, juice, chips, and sweets before putting all these next to Eda. I regained the front seat and started the car's engine.

"Oh yeah, Grandpa and Grandma are still living there?" I asked the little girl as showing her Hermione's house when we were in high school with my phone.

"Yes," she nodded.

"Great, we're going there."

"Seriously? It will take time," she commented.

"That's why we're heading there right now. Well, we might stay there for the night too if we can't go back, you're fine with that?"

"I don't mind staying with Grandpa and Grandma."

"Though your mother might," I joked, "since she asked me to bring you back at 5, but we'll manage somehow."

A faint smile emerged on the little girl's face.

"Wait," something came up in my mind, "you've already seen your mother's old paintings?" she denied. "I'll show you once we're there."

"Yay, I wanna see them!" she shouted with a grin.

"For now, our journey will be full of obstacles and hardship," I overdramatically stated. "A sufficient meal is thus required, will doughnuts suffice?"

"Um," she agreed.

"The choice is in your hands, princess," I added. "Where shall we go?" she laughed at my antics.

So, Eda indicated to me her favorite bakery on the phone, and, guided by the GPS, we headed over there with hopes of doughnuts. After some moment deciding on which to take, I ended buying her a dozen of them even though knowing how bad it was for her health; I decided to eat as much as possible to spare her that. And with everything settled, we had about four hours of road to go before reaching my hometown. The gray asphalt was rapidly followed by endless fields, and the radio soon filled with white noises. For most of the trip, Eda peacefully sank into her seat while eating doughnuts and gulping water while I took the chips and some juice. The silence grew lighter, most probably because we were both amazed by the landscape visible from the windows. This took me back to the memories of my small trip with Hermione; I realized that she was the only good thing residing in my head.

So, I told Eda some of these recollections with eager joy. I narrated the time her mother and I got lost and we had to rent a motel's room like a couple, or the time we went to a lake and drenched all our clothes before I had to make a campfire to dry them while she was clinging to me, or the time we went camping and ended up sleeping together in a rundown barn where we stargazed at the night sky, or the time when we stayed up all night before her chimney while the snow was unfurling its wrath outside and we read Christmas novel together, or the time we skipped class and she painted hearts all over town… All these rushings in my mind reminded me how much I deprived myself of her. Ultimately, I was scared of being miserable, but beyond that laid a feeble bliss; I guessed it was what we commonly call nostalgia.

Eda was also happy and closely listening and losing no time to react to her mother's past conduct. Though, I also told her to keep all that was said a secret from her mother; Eddie's memories recounted by Ed would definitely be weird.

By the time I finished these, we were already before Hermione's old house; again, there was nothing particular about it, and that made its charm. Oddly enough, all Midwest houses are rather unique; too much that it became a mundane thing devoid of its singularity. We got out of the car and Eda clumsily knocked on the door. Hermione's dad opened up before showing an amalgam of surprise and disdain on his face, which all disappeared as seeing his granddaughter.

"I'm the last guy that you wanna see at your porch, but I wanted to talk about something concerning Eda," I told him.

The little girl was already inside by the end of my sentence, probably greeting her grandma.

"If it's about Eda, we can talk," dryly replied the grandpa.

"I… Let's suppose that I have amnesia, really, let's just suppose that. Could I ask you what happened between me and your daughter?"

That really was a stupid, hastily-made excuse that wasn't well-thought.

"But do you have amnesia?" he mistrustfully replied.

"Truth is, it's much more complicated and unbelievable, so I'd like you to stick with it, please."

Mr. McCartney sighed and let me into the living room; surprisingly, it hadn't changed a single bit. We passed so much time in this room when we were watching TV. Though, Mrs. McCartney was in the middle of it now, killing every ounce of comfort that was there before as seeing my face. Eda was seating next to her, visibly disturbed in whatever discussion they were having. As entering, I crept back a little bit before the ill-intents that were directed at me. As for the grandpa, he was standing next to his wife while staring at me as a stranger who clearly wasn't invited. All the little family seemed to be against me, but I could understand why.

"Mr. McCartney, Mrs. McCartney, I'd first like to apologize for not having taken care of your daughter or granddaughter. I know that what I've done is unforgivable, but I wanna fix my errors. I wanna have a decent relationship with Hermione and be a good father for Edalynn."

The old couple didn't reply. Mrs. McCartney sighed and exited the room with Eda for what I remembered to be the kitchen. Then, I got punched in the face; given the unusual force he had for a grandpa, he was pissed. I really thought that something had broken around my jaw, but I still could apologize.

"I deserved that one."

"You deserve more," he replied. "Now, you wanna know what happened between my daughter and you? I'll tell you; you abandoned her like some trash that you've never looked upon even once. Do you even know how hard it was for her to attend school like that, and face the other? Or just how much she needed, so that Eda could have a decent education? Or all the things she resigned to have a baby?

"And I don't even talk about the consequences just because you were too dumb to put on a condom. But you did nothing anyway, with all your money; you didn't help her financially, let alone take some time with your daughter."

I feared that Mr. McCartney would give me another punch. But I needed to know what happened since he already confronted me with the worse.

"…Let's continue to suppose, please. Why did she follow me? Didn't she have that gloomy guy? Edward?" I insulted myself there.

"Eddie? Huh, he left her too. I could've seen that kid as my son-in-law, but he abandoned her as you did. Maybe that's why she went out with an asshole like you," he sighed.

That possibility crawled somewhere in my head but I couldn't face it either. The grandpa calmed his nerves and sat down on the couch.

"What did she like in that guy anyway?" I mumbled, caught in my insults.

Ultimately, I learned pretty much nothing new; though, all I had to do in town wasn't over. I wanted to show Eda her mother's paintings, and perhaps, soothe my pain with it too.

"I'm taking Eda for a small tour around town," I said to Mr. McCartney, who didn't even look at me. "I'll be waiting for her outside."

I hurried to my car to escape the deathly aura in the living room and took some chips to ease my mind. After several minutes, Mrs. McCartney opened the front door and let out Eda as giving her a big hug and a kiss on the forehead. The little girl seemed sad to already part with her grandparents after only thirty minutes or so.

"I'll let you sleep here for tonight; we'll find a way with Mom, so don't worry, alright?"

"Alright," she replied.

"Now, I promised you that I'll show you Mom's old painting— and I'm the only one who knows where she hid them, so let's go."

So we began to walk across the little town, greeting some people I recognized and receiving more from people who recognized me as Ed, while searching for the painted hearts I had mentioned earlier. If I wasn't mistaken, she drew about two hundred of them, but we only found about fifty as we headed over to my old high school. Surprisingly, entering there was quite easy since kids were on vacation and I was an old alumnus, plus the fact that I had more charisma than my old self. It was quite weird to come back to that place when nobody was around; school was a place filled with all kinds of ruckus and peculiar people. The silence was unnatural in such a location.

Hermione used the art room a lot of time, and since nobody was really that interested in arts, we were often alone there. I particularly remembered the light which was entering through the windows and shining on Hermione's beautiful face. But my reminiscences were soon interrupted by Eda's impatience, excitedly waiting for the things I had promised; I took a chair resting in a corner and used it to attain the ceiling. This was the hideout of her tableaux, under a removable plaque; I never understood why she kept the latter in there, but she always replied to me that I was the only one who could see these. Though, her daughter was about to transgress her wishes but to whom did it really matter after all.

I took out twenty canvases with Eda's help and after verifying having left none, I dived into their beauty. And the little girl was dumbfounded as well; her mouth was wide open and her eyes were glistening.

"Your mother is an exceptional painter, right?"

"Wow! I can't believe Mom did all these. She really is the best artist on earth!"

"The best artist on earth," I paraphrased. "Eda, help me take your Mom's masterpieces to the car, we'll show her how of a good painter she was when we'll be back."

"We'll keep them?" I nodded.

With five paintings in her hands and fifteen in mine, we happily went back to the car and carefully put them in.

"Eda, go back with Grandpa and Grandma now."

"You're not coming?"

"It's better if I stay here. Tell them to call Mom and that I'll take you at 8 tomorrow to go back."

"Ok," she shyly added. "Dad, see you."

"…Sorry for not being there for you, princess. I promise you that I'll be there for you now," I said as mildly patting her head. "We'll have another trip this week if Mom accepts, alright? I'll show you the lake, or the barn maybe, or the motel and we'll stay there, maybe even together: you, Mom, and me. It's your pick."

"I want the last one then, where we're all together," she said.

"It's a promise; you, Mom, and me, at the motel, this week. See you, princess, I'll come at 8 so be ready."

The little girl then smiled and hugged me before rushing into her grandparents' house. As for me, I went to the motel for the night and put all Hermione's paintings in my room; I gazed at them until falling into slumber.