What About Us Last Request

Barry | Jane | 09:30 A.M

-Good morning..Daddy.

-Morning Peaches. Guess what I'm making for breakfast?

-Umm...cereal..(yawns)...I need to pee.

-Egg Sandwich. Be careful inside, you're still sleeping.

-Okayyy.

-Call me if you need.

It had been a whole week since I took a leave from my job. Selina came to visit couple of times within this week too. We spent the time talking about each other's problems, her situation and my hard time getting along with my daughter. Jane had some issues regarding her behaviour around people. Losing her mother was a shock she couldn't carry, it gradually resulted her isolation from the world. In the end it turned out I was the only person she would talk to.

It was not long after the funeral, one night I came home and heard her talking to someone with laughter and ecstasy filled in her voice. My concerned mind and an uncontrollable instinct made me run inside to check on the situation. Only to find no other but only Jane with her sketchbook. She was sketching something on it. I grabbed and picked her up.

-Oh!? Daddy? When did you get back?

-...(Continues to hug her)

-Daddy? What happened? Something good?

-...Hmm...Daddy's got tomorrow off.

-Wow! Yey! I want to go to the park.

-Yes. Let's go to the park. We'll ride the slide together. The biggest one. Okay?

-Hiya!! The biggest sli..

-What happened? Is little Jane scared?

-No.

-Then? Oh! Don't worry, we'll leave snacks for the kitties.

-...Mom is forbidding us from riding the bigger slides.
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-Huh?

At first I thought I misheard her but her next act felt rather awkward, unlikely of her. She turned her head back and pointed towards a side of the bed she had been sitting on. Right by our family picture.

-See? Mommy wanna go too.

.

.

.

As I was about to leave after putting her to sleep the sketchbook caught my eye. It was her one of many sketchbooks. Jane loved to draw more than anything. It was something she got from her mother. But as much as I love seeing her drawings this time it gave me a concern filled with despair. It was of Rose, her mother sitting on her bed, holding that family picture of us.