A Little Bit of Happiness

Chapter Four

2008-02-08T13:12:00.000-08:00

***I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter, but it does still serve the purpose that I had intended. I will most likely come back to this chapter and rewrite it, possibly dramatically changing it, but the key elements will remain the same.

“Is she asleep?” Chelsea was already lying in bed when John got back from tucking in Elisabeth.

“Yeah.” John shut the bedroom door and walked to the dresser. He emptied the contents of his pockets. Wallet. Pocket knife. Car keys. He placed them neatly in his dresser organizer that Chelsea had set up for him and taught him to use to keep things tidy long ago. He removed his shoes and walked to the closet where he placed them on his shoe rack. He started unbuttoning his pants when Chelsea spoke.

“Am I a bad mother?”

“What? Of course not. What kind of silly question is that?” John finished dressing down to just his boxers and climbed into bed.

“Why won’t Elisabeth trust me? Why did she go to you to fix her scraped knee?”

“Honey, she’s just a kid. Just because she went to me doesn’t mean you’re a bad mother or that she doesn’t love you.” John knew he said the wrong thing the moment it came out of his mouth.

“What?!? So now she doesn’t love me any more either? You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Daddy’s ‘Little Bit’ chose him over her mother. I can’t believe you just rubbed that in my face.” Chelsea stared at John for a moment and he saw tears starting to build in her eyes. She rolled to her side away from him and turned off the bedside lamp. The room went dark.

“Great,” he said as he flopped on his back. He stared at the ceiling, but all he saw was black. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, Chelsea. Of course Elisabeth loves you, and you’re a great mother. Kids do funny things sometimes. You shouldn’t let it bother you so much.”

Chelsea sighed deeply. “It does bother me…a lot. You say kids do funny things sometimes? Elisabeth goes to you for everything. She always has. Everything a mother typically does for a child, she goes to you for. As far as I’m concerned, that makes me a bad mother. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I’m obviously not doing something right.” With the last few words she spoke, John could hear in her voice that the tears started rolling down her cheeks.

“Chelsea…”

“Just shut up, John.” She cried. “Go to sleep.” He took her advice.

* * * * *

John and Chelsea were startled in the night. They heard screams coming from Elisabeth’s room.

“Daddy!” She cried out.

The moon was crossing the windows in the front of their bedroom and cast light into the room. John could see Chelsea glaring at him while she shook her head. “Chelsea, stop. It’s not my fault. I’m on the same team, you know. Go get her. Comfort her. Show her you’re a good mother.”

She shook her head. “Don’t patronize me John. She’s calling for you. Go take care of her.”

Defeated, John rose out of bed and walked to attend to Elisabeth. That was the last time they ever argued about the love of their child.

Chapter Three

2008-02-08T13:11:00.000-08:00

It’s funny what kind of security a person can get from an inanimate object. John finds himself sitting in Elisabeth’s old bedroom often, much the same as he is right now, holding Abby doll in his hands. He vividly remembers that moment when Elisabeth skinned her knee and chose him over her mother. That moment was the best of the best of times for the family. At least how he remembers it.

Elisabeth’s room looks much the same way as she left it, although a little cleaner. He smiles as he remembers how Elisabeth always had clothes strewn about the floor or compacted tightly into her hamper. Other than that, she was very neat and tidy. The same can’t be said for the rest of the house, however.

John walks through the house and looks around. Dust has accumulated on everything. Thick layers of dust. The house appears as if it hasn’t been cared for at all. He looks at the corners where the walls meet the ceiling and he sees cobwebs. He looks at the furniture and he sees imprints of the same few spots that he sits most nights and the fabric has become worn. He looks at the floor and sees tiny speckles of dirt and filth. He becomes curious and moves the coffee table to a new spot in the room to find the carpet that it covered is at least six shades brighter.

“How have I not noticed this before?” He thinks to himself.

He walks to the kitchen and sees piles of dishes in his sink, and he remembers how he always just washes what he needs when he uses it and then throws it back in the sink. He can’t remember the last time he ran the dishwasher. Trash is piled across the counter because the garbage can by the fridge is full, and he hasn’t taken time to take it out. Most times he forgets when trash day is and it piles for several weeks before he takes five or six bags to the curb. He heads for the garage and finds exactly that. Six bags of trash are sitting in the corner waiting to be placed on the curb yet they have clearly sat there for weeks.

“What day is trash day again?”

He pushes the button for the garage door and the chain slowly pulls it up to the top squeaking the entire time. He walks out to the end of the driveway and looks at the house. It’s nothing like he remembers. The siding is faded to a dingy brown, and the roof has pieces of shingles curling and removed. The shrubs on each side of the house are overgrown, so overgrown that the sidewalk around to the back of the house is inaccessible. The grass is long and patching, big chunks of light putrid yellow. The maple tree in the center of the yard looks half dead. Many of the limbs are no longer bearing leaves and much of the bark is missing. What really shakes him is the garden and the swing that he remembers so vividly from that day. The once beautiful swing that Chelsea used to love to sit and read in during the Fall is rusted and half resting on the ground. One of the links rusted through. The pad that sat on the swing which should have been stored during inclimate weather, now sits on the swing covered in mildew. And the garden…oh the beautiful garden. What used to be covered with colorful flowers and green plants is now a wasteland of weeds. Ugly, hideous weeds had sprouted everywhere throughout and some grew tall to his waist. Many of the rocks that surrounded the garden are gone. Even the one that Elisabeth scraped her knee on so many years ago is no longer there.

A fire begins to burn inside of him and he wonders how he could have let things get so bad? He curses himself for not seeing it before. And what about the neighbors? How have they been able to tolerate this atrocity? He assumes because of what his family had been through that they let him be. He thinks hard to himself standing there in front of the garden and can’t even recall if the same neighbors are even still his neighbors? It doesn’t matter now. He decided a few days ago when he wrote that letter to Elisabeth that he was going to clean up his act, and the fact that she responded, as hurtful as it was, he wasn’t going to let this stop him now. He gathers his thoughts and heads back for the garage when he spots from the corner of his eye a familiar car coming down the road. He hasn’t seen this car in years, but here it comes. Is this coincidence? He turns around back towards the road and stands there as the car pulls into the driveway. Abby gets out.

She shuts her car door and walks up within a few feet of him while neither of them speaks a word and Abby sighs a loud. They stand there looking at each other for a few seconds before Abby speaks.

“Hi, John,” She says.

“How are you, Abby? You look good.”

“Thanks, I’m fine. I wish I could say the same for you.” Abby had always spoken her mind to John. He still isn’t sure if he likes that about her, but she does look good, and he knows she’s right about him. Abby wasn’t quite as beautiful as Chelsea, at least to John, but she was still a pretty woman. She has many of the same features as Chelsea, but more understated. Brown hair, slender body, nice eyes, and she always dressed well. She stood in front of John now with her hands crossed on her chest waiting for him to say something back.

“I know I don’t look that great,” he finally states back to her. “But I’m making a change. I’m trying, Abby.”

“I can see that,” she sarcastically shoots back at him.

“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at work?”

“It’s Saturday, John. I don’t work on the weekends. I’m a nine-to-fiver and I have been for a long time. I stopped by to see how you’re doing. I haven’t heard from you for a long time and I was worried about you, ok?” John feels like a putz, and he realizes that now he’s even started to forget what day it is. What a mess.

“I’m sorry.”

“John, it’s noon. You’re still in your pajamas. What’s the matter…”

“Enough! What are you, my mother? I told you I’m trying to make some changes, but I’m just starting. I’m feeling better about things. I know how this all looks. It will be better soon, ok?” Abby stares at him for a moment and then looks at her shoes. Then back at him.

“Ok. I’ll stop worrying about you. I just hope you mean it, John. I hate seeing you like this.” She pauses for a moment, deeply thinking about what to say next. “Why don’t you clean yourself up? Take a shower. Shave. Put on some real clothes. Come have dinner with Kevin and me tonight. It might do you some good to get out of the house for a change.” She knows the answer before he even responds.

“I’ll think about it. I have a lot of work to do around here.”

“I’ll say” she thinks to herself. “Do what you want, but you know it’s a standing offer. Anytime you’re interested.”

“Thanks.”

“Ok. Bye then, John. And…take care of yourself.”

“Bye.”

Abby turns away from John and starts walking back to her car. She opens her door and with one leg in the car John yells out to her.

“I wrote Elisabeth a letter, Abby. I found her.”

Abby freezes. She looks at John in disbelief and tries to say something. Nothing comes out of her mouth.

Chapter Two

2008-02-08T13:09:00.000-08:00

It was a modest home that sat on a small plot of land. Walking into the house you could smell the pine oil from the freshly mopped floors and the furniture was well placed with pillows situated perfectly in the corners. That’s how it always looked and smelled. The master bedroom was located to the right at the end of the hall from the front door and just beyond the living room. Across the hall was the master bathroom. To the left was the dining room followed by the kitchen and the laundry room. That was it for the main floor of this ranch. Stairs led to the basement where there was a family room and two more bedrooms. Elisabeth’s bedroom was downstairs at the far end of the house while the spare bedroom was at the bottom of the staircase. John and Chelsea always imagined making the spare bedroom into a nursery for their second child, though with Elisabeth at the age of seven already, they realized they might never get around to it. Neither of them wanted to admit that their family already felt complete as they had both always talked about having a second child, but they both knew at this point they were never going to and that was fine by them. Now the spare bedroom had mostly become a second bedroom for Elisabeth. It’s where she spent much of her spare time playing and where she kept the overabundance of her dolls and toys stockpiled. She loved her dolls.

Her favorite doll was Abby. She came up with this name, as most children do, from knowing her favorite Aunt Abby, Chelsea’s sister. Abby, the doll, that is, rarely left Elisabeth’s side. She couldn’t sleep without her and never really felt safe unless Abby was in her hands. John and Chelsea knew that the tighter Elisabeth held her doll, the more afraid she was and they tried to console her whenever this happened to break her dependence from the doll, but it never worked. Chelsea always knew that this doll meant so much to Elisabeth because it was a gift from her father when Elisabeth was quiet ill a few years ago. It’s funny what kind of security a person can get from an inanimate object.

On this particular Saturday Elisabeth and Abby were outside as children do. Elisabeth was riding her purple and white bike with streamers coming out of the handles while Abby sat in the front basket. Her mother was sitting on the porch swing curled up with her favorite book, Pride and Prejudice. She must have read it a dozen times already. Her father was in the yard raking leaves although he wasn’t working too hard. Often Chelsea looked up from her book only to catch him standing with the rake in his hand while he watched Elizabeth riding in circles on the driveway with a huge grin on her face. She was the most precious thing in the world to him.

“Little Bit! When I’m done raking the leaves do you want to jump in them with me?”

“Why?” She said to him as she made another circle on the driveway.

“It’s fun. I used to do it all the time when I was your age. It’s like jumping into a cloud.”

“Really?”

“yes.”

“Are you done now?” Elisabeth asked. John laughed.

“I will be soon.” Elisabeth jumped off her bike and ran to her mommy. That’s what she always called her.

“Mommy, Mommy!”

“Yes, dear?”

“We need to help daddy so we can jump in the leaves. Daddy said it’s like jumping into clouds. Have you ever jumped into a cloud?” A big smile crossed Chelsea’s face.

“I heard him. I’m excited too! Let’s get some rakes.” Chelsea went to the garage in the front of the house and grabbed the extra rake off the wall. There was only one. With quick wit that all good mothers have, she found the miniature dust broom and gave it to Elisabeth.

“This is a rake just your size.” Elisabeth looked at her quizzically and reached for the mini broom. They walked together to the front yard under the large maple tree where John stood and began helping him rake.

It wasn’t long before Elisabeth realized the difficult labor that she had undertaken and her mind began to drift. She spotted a tiny white butterfly fluttering near the ground. She dropped her pretend rake and went after it, playfully swatting at it as the butterfly continued to evade her grasp. John looked up from his raking again to watch his Little Bit play when he realized the butterfly had flown close to the garden where stones surrounded the edge. Unnoticed by Elisabeth and before John could shout for her to watch her step, Elisabeth had already tripped on the stones and was lying in the flower bed writhing in pain.

Chelsea was the first to react, and quickly was by Elisabeth’s side coddling her and telling her it will be ok. She had a nasty scrape on her knee.

“John, go get the first aid kit.” Still frozen in the moment, John awoke from his trance and ran inside. He quickly made his way to the laundry room and pulled the first aid kit from the shelf. He plucked the peroxide and Band-Aids from the box and left the first aid kit sitting on the washer, then made his way back to the garden where Chelsea and Elisabeth sat. He knelt down beside them and began to open the peroxide when Elisabeth jumped out of her mommy’s hands and into his, spilling half the bottle.

“It’s ok, Little Bit. It’s alright. Daddy’s got you. Mommy will put the Band-Aid on you, ok?”

“No!” She cried. “I want daddy to do it.” John looked at Chelsea with a shrug of his eyebrows and sighed. He began dressing the wound. He poured peroxide on the wound and watched it bubble and fizz while he blew on it until it dried. Chelsea sat in shock while she watched John and Elisabeth wondering why she wouldn’t let her help. John continued to blow on the scratched knee while Chelsea stood up and walked over to where Elisabeth’s bike lay on the driveway. She grabbed Abby out of the basket and pushed the bike to the edge of the yard, then returned to John and Elisabeth as he finished putting the Band-Aid on.

“I think that’s enough playtime for one afternoon. Do you want to go inside and watch some TV with Daddy?” Elisabeth wiped more tears from her face and shook her head up and down.

“Can I have Abby, Mommy?”

“Of course, dear.” At least she was of some help. She handed Abby doll to her. Elisabeth snatched the doll without another word and clutched the doll close to her chest as she held tightly to Daddy as well. They walked into the house to watch TV together as Chelsea stood by the garden alone.

Chapter One

2008-02-08T13:07:00.000-08:00

She sits in the corner crying again. A fairly regular occurrence in her life. It’s quite sad really that something as simple as words on a page can induce such shedding of tears. Only yesterday things were finally looking quite normal for her again.

She was offered a position as a waitress in a downtown diner. Sure it may not sound like much to most people, but to her it was another chance of independence. She was starting over again. Starting over…the number of times she has said that it almost brings tears to my eyes.

Looking down in her hand again she sees the letter and the envelope it came in. She picks up the envelope and reads the return address again:

4350 Bielefeld St.
New Knoxville, OH 45871

Her father never did like to put his name on anything. He never wanted to own up to anything. Even she was cast out.

She thinks hard about the last time she heard from her dad. 10 years? 12? She remembers the day she left as if it were yesterday, but how long ago was that? It seems like a lifetime in itself. How different things were then.

She wipes the tears from her eyes and gathers herself from the floor. She walks away from where she fell next to the front door upon seeing the letter and finds her way to the bathroom. It’s a short walk in her tiny studio apartment but she turns on the sink and splashes water on her face. She looks in the mirror and sees the mascara running down her cheeks. For a moment she recognizes daddy’s little girl again and a small smile briefly crosses her face showing the tiniest of dimples in her cheeks.

Daddy’s little girl. She used to be so proud of that so many years ago. There was a time when she would have given anything to have those days back, but that time was gone. It passed many years ago with the struggles she endured since.

After cleaning her face she went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water and sat at her small wobbly table. Still holding the letter she looked at it again. She still couldn’t believe that she was holding a letter from her dad in her hand.

The phone rings. She moves to answer it and changes her mind. Ring. Ring. There is no answering machine because the last one broke and she can’t afford to replace it. She knows if it is important that they’ll call back. Likely to be a collector or creditor anyway. She doesn’t have many friends. The phone stops.

She examines the letter again. It’s written on fine linen paper. Apparently he wanted to be taken seriously. He wrote with a black pen in this half cursive half print sort of way that he always wrote. A sign of laziness from a now lazy man. At least that is what she thought of him now. She sits and thinks of all the things that led her to where she is right now and feels the rush of tears coming back but she fights them off. She refuses to cry again. She is strong and she wouldn’t still be here if she wasn’t.

She decides to read the letter once more. As she unfolds the page she notices the watermarks that her tears had made. A few large droplets that smeared the ink. Having read the letter three times already, it made no difference. She didn’t have to read it to know what it said.

* * * * *

3-17-2007

My Dearest Little Bit,

I can’t begin to describe to you the difficulty I had sitting down to write this letter to you. Where shall I begin? And to be so obtuse…I can’t imagine what you might be feeling while reading this letter. I only hope you do take the time to read it.

Many years have passed since we last spoke and I’m so ashamed. I’m ashamed of what I’ve become. I’m ashamed of what I have done. But mostly I’m ashamed that I haven’t been able to be apart of your life for the last ten years. Oh how I want you back in my life.

People are always saying that time heals all wounds, but I’m afraid that the wounds have only gotten deeper for me. I can’t imagine what life has been like for you since you left home, but I also can’t imagine it has been easy. I know that you blame me for that, and you should. I deserve at least that from you.

I hope you know that my life has felt much like a prison sentence since you have been gone. I have been caged in the depression that surrounded every moment of my life. After you left it was difficult to find a reason to keep on going.

I found that reason to live again. It’s you. I live for you and the hope that one day you will come back to me. I want you back in my life again Little Bit.

I don’t expect you to come to me with open arms. God knows I don’t deserve that. But I hope that you’ll listen. I hope that you’ll give me a chance to win you back.

I won’t come to visit and I won’t call. Not unless you write back to me and tell me it’s ok. I don’t want to force myself back in your life as if that’s something I’m entitled to. I want to earn it. I want you to want me back too, and I’m going to work to get it.

I’ll write you again soon. My only hope is that you’ll keep reading the letters. Perhaps you’ll decide to return a letter to me someday as well. Even if you won’t I’m not going to give up. You are my hope. You are my will and reason. You are my Little Bit of Happiness in this pitiful, pitiful life I’ve made for myself.

I love you with all my heart. I hope to hold you again someday and never let go.

With All My Love,

Dad

* * * * *

She again wiped the tears from her face. She took out a pen and wrote on the letter. She stuffed it in the envelope and resealed it. You couldn’t tell it had been opened. On the back of the envelope she crossed out her address and wrote Return to Sender. She left her apartment and went down her steps to the street with the letter in her hand. She walked to the corner and dumped the letter down the mouth of a postal drop box and returned to her apartment.

* * * * *

Back at home a man walks to his mailbox several mornings later and finds the letter with Return to Sender on the back with his daughters address crossed out. He nearly broke down crying until he noticed the tiniest of tears on the opening of the envelope. Upon further inspection he recognizes the Return To Sender written in his daughter’s hand writing.

He tears open the letter and the envelope falls to the ground in pieces. He unfolds the page and in big thick scribbled letters he reads across the page:

LIAR

Devastated the man falls to his knees. He sits by the mailbox by the road of his house and cries into his hands. His hands are crushing the letter between his fingers. His chest pounds and he finds it difficult to breathe.

Then he suddenly stops. A thought crosses his mind and he gathers his strength.

She read the letter. There is still hope.

A Little Bit of Happiness by Brad Vicroy

2008-02-08T12:57:00.000-08:00

Welcome to A Little Bit of Happiness!

This novel is something I have been dreaming of for many years. Only within the last one or two years, however, has this idea of an estranged father and daughter relationship come to me that I really started to get excited about the daunting task of actually writing a novel.

I want people to visit and read my work. The work that you see will be more or less in rough draft form. With that in mind you will probably run into a few inconsistencies and several errors. While I hope that everyone loves what I have written, I want any one who decides to read the story to give me feedback on the story. I want to know what you think, where you’re confused, what you love and hate…everything and anything that you want to say about it, you are welcome to say. While constructive criticism is appreciated, if you want to say “it’s a huge piece of crap”, then I won’t stop you.

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Synopsis:

A Little Bit of Happiness introduces you to a family: Chelsea, John, and their daughter, Elisabeth. They are a loving family that is typical of any other until the day that Chelsea dies from a horrible accident. Because of her death, John and Elisabeth, who were incredibly close before the accident, begin to drift apart until something happens that ruins there relationship forever. Elisabeth moves out of the house seemingly to get as far away from John as possible. Neither of them speak again for years.

Several years later, when Elisabeth is no longer a little girl, John realizes how difficult his life has been and remembers that life was so much better when Elisabeth was apart of it. Desperately, he begins to try to get her back in his life, but is it too late?

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My goal will be to list a new chapter on the site each week, and at a minimum hopefully two chapters a month. Thanks for reading!

Warm Regards,

Brad