Page 1 of My Solemn Vow
1
VALOR
LIFE AT HOME
Parenting advice is bullshit ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent, the self-help books are great for target practice.
No matter how prepared you are or how much reading you do, nothing can accurately depict the complexities of raising a daughter as a single dad.
Or maybe I just got lucky. It’s the only explanation for the seven-year-old, who is probably the more stable one of the two of us.
Kerrianne dances around the big-box store’s school supply aisle, and I have the heart-aching realization that my little girl is growing up faster than I’m ready to admit.
We’ve barely started our shopping trip, and I can tell Kerrianne is more excited about the second grade than I am. In a little over two weeks, I lose the joy of spending almost every day with her, and it’s as if a sharp knife is jammed into my chest.
Practically at the end of the aisle away from me, Kerrianne spins her skirt in a big swoop.
“What do we need first, Dad?” She stops spinning to look at me.
“Alright.” I start at the top and skim the list. “We need four different folders.”
While Kerrianne peruses, I step a bit toward the far side of the aisle. Sean, her personal bodyguard and one of my best men, is standing partially out of sight at the other end. As I knew he would be, but I couldn’t help double-checking.
I do what I can to give Kerrianne the freedom of a day out with her dad. But even in a big-box store full of other people, there are no safety guarantees.
My bodyguard and private driver, Jack, is a few aisles over, pretending to browse greeting cards or some shit like that.
“Why don’t they have any tortoise folders?” Kerrianne sighs and her shoulders slump. “They’ve got dolphins, dogs, and cats but no tortoises or turtles.”
“Well, it’s probably because a tortoise isn’t a very common house pet and not a common pet at all for school children?” I don’t bother lying.
Kerrianne has been obsessed with tortoises since I brought her to the fancy fish store. We went looking for a betta as a family pet but walked out with a tortoise. The four-pound, seven-inch Russian tortoise, who is roughly the same age as me, named Captain, is most certainly not traditional. Not my first choice of pets by a long shot. Instead of a manageable twenty-gallon fish tank, I got a construction project to build the perfect indoor enclosure, a gardening project for summer roaming space, a tortoise that eats a wider variety of vegetables than my daughter, and a very happy pup. What can I say? I’m that dad.
“Let’s get dinosaurs too.” Kerrianne comes back with three folders — two different colors of T. rex and one with a variety of them mixed in with volcanoes and palm trees.
“One more, little raptor.” I correct her, showing her that she only picked out three.
She wrinkles her nose but goes back to the folder selections.Kerrianne surprises me when she chooses a brightly colored folder with pink fluffy kittens.
“You want the kitten one?” I question before I think better of it. I try not to judge her choices and encourage my daughter’s uniqueness, but this is out of character.
She makes a face. “Yeah, maybe another girl will have the same one and we can be friends.”
Her nerves about the first day are expected. I didn’t want to change schools, but when the one she went to for kindergarten and first grade wouldn’t undergo necessary security upgrades, I made the hard choice to switch. The new school is equally far from home but more willing to accept change. Her nerves don’t stop her excitement though. When I offered a trip to get school supplies or to the water park, this is what she wanted to do.
“Ten glue sticks.” I squint at the paper;how much gluing is there really?
I judge but comply with the list. Clearly the teacher knows what the students need.
Kerrianne counts them out and brings them to where I stand with the cart. We go through the list, and she picks a variety of pink, blue, and black items.
My phone rings while we’re on our way to check out. I groan when I recognize the quiet ringtone.
“Uh-oh.” Kerrianne looks at me with a pout, having learned that ringtone too by now. “Can’t you tell work you’re busy?”
“I’ll see what they want. Maybe it isn’t very important and I can play hooky with you.” I run my hand over the top of her head, taming a flyaway, before pulling the phone out of my pocket.
My father’s ‘business line’ is on the screen. He and I decided that if it’s work related, he’ll always call me from this number, and I’ll lie and say it’s not his fault that I’m leaving her. Someday, she’ll figure out that, as I’m the next alpha of our pack, Grandpa’s been giving me orders all along. Much like SantaClaus, the Easter Bunny, and the tooth fairy, it’s a little white lie to keep some of the magic in her world... And to stop Grandpa from looking like an asshole for taking her dad away from her sometimes.
