"It's your turn to look after her, honey," my wife tells me before she rolls over and goes back to sleep.
I'm sitting up, groggy as hell, my eyes feel like hot
gravel, and I'm struggling to find my glasses on the nightstand. I get up, a little pissed off M my favorite dream of my wife, Susan, dressed like Katy Perry and shaking her ass in a music video was interrupted. I love my wife, don't get me wrong, but damn it, this is the third time tonight she passed this on to me. Fuck my life.
I'm not feeling very mobile and shuffle down the hall to Heathers room. Why she's calling out at night escapes meand I'm a little tired with it. I peek in, the moon is shining in and the whole room is lit up. Lots of light, including her Dora the Explorer night light so her monster things should be nixed, you'd think. Right? Hell no. I can hear her whining under her covers.
"Hey, skweebait, what's wrong?" I ask her, putting on my sweet dad face and voice, but judging how I feel, I'm probably more frightening than whatever monster she's dreamt up this time. I take a couple of steps and sit on the side of her bed, peeling the covers out of her little fingers and off of her adorable little face. Shit, how can anyone stay mad at my little girl?
"The alligator man from under my bed came back," she's almost frantic, now, great. "He was pulling more monsters from under my bed. They were - were - THEY WERE GONNA EAT ME, DADDY!" She's now a blubbering mess.
Swell.
Time for Dad, the Great and Powerful, to weave his magic again,put her back to sleep, and conquer her fears once an for all. Stories always work, I mean - c'mon, I'm Dad, and I know this shit. It's either that or she crawls in with Susan and I and we get pummeled by 7-year-old hands and rock-hard heels. Well, not tonight, my friends. I have one story I haven't told her yet, Maybe tonight's the night for it.
"Hey, hey, hey, skweebait, no tears, now. The Paladins don't like it when little girls cry, now," I start working her into the story. Am I clever or what? Oh, shut up, I'd like to see you do better.
"The - the- Pala-whats, daddy?" she asks, lifting her head and looking into my eyes with her wide brown ones. She looks so much like her mother, I think. Any boys out there the same age? When you get older, she's off limits. Got it? Good.
"The Paladins, baby. Magical knights from a faraway place patrol the world to protect little girls and little boys from mean and nasty things like bed monsters and closet monsters and furry monsters you see on TV that wannaaaaa...NIBBLE YOUR TOES! ARRRR Om nom nom nom!" Now she's giggling as I pretend eat her toes. See? I'm an awesome dad.
I stop playing with her tiny feet and look at her with my best dad look and a big smile I save only for her, "You mean to tell me you've never heard the story of how a powerful knight saved my life when I was your age?" Oh, I'm good.
"Wooooowwwwwww, no. Are you gonna tell me it, now?" With such a sweet look on her face, how could I say no?
"Yep, skweebait, I am, but you have to tuck on in under your blanket, and with your..." Damn, which one? "Which one do you want to cuddle, baby?"
"I dunno, Daddy. You pick one," she tells me. Just like her mother. She gets that from her side of the family, just so you know. Then it hits me.
I think of the one she rarely hunkers in with. I don't know why, but tonight, she's not getting a choice. I step to her pile of stuffed animals and grab the one I have in mind.
I turn around and hold it up to my face, moving it's little furry paws and make silly growling noises at Heather. She giggles at me again, so I know she's getting into it. Good. I put the critter in her left arm, and cover them both up to their chins.
Heather looks at the toy, then to me, "Why the black tiger one, daddy. I think it's kinda scary."
"Well, that black tiger one was a special gift from the Paladin that saved my life, a long, long time ago," I reply. Her eyes get wider, she looks at her feline companion and then back at me. This is going to be fun. I hope I remember how things went that night.
"You see, when I was five, I was afraid of the couch monster I used to call the 'yuckman'. Where we used to live, we had a really ugly couch that sat next to the wall. It had icky colors and a yucky plaid pattern, " I lean in and rumble clownishly, "and it smelled funny." Heather crinkles her nose and settles in for more. Ahhh, Daddy's little girl.
"Well, I wasn't afraid of the couch itself, but I was
afraid of this big, scary monster that I thought used to hide behind the couch.
It - "
"What did it look like, Daddy?" Heather sits up and asks
me.
"I was going to tell you, honey. Now lie back down, good,
let me tuck you in a little more, and I'll finish, okay?" I tell her. She nods
slowly with a half-smile. Yeah, she's getting into story-time now.
Nice.
"This monster thingie had a funny, pointy head with big, yucky googly eyes, a big, round nose, a bunch of sharp teeth, and really hairy eyebrows. It was big, and hairy kinda like Grandpa Don, and had long, pointy claws.
"Oh, I'd see it from time to time, when nobody else was looking, and it would do things like shake its claws at me, or lick it's lips, and sometimes it would chase me around the living room. It was terrible. I thought it would eat me, or tear me to bits, or worse." I can tell by the look on her face, she's on the verge of horror again, time to switch gears.
"Then one night, I was sleeping in the living room. I don't know why, but I fell asleep on the yucky couch. That wasn't a very smart thing to do, right?" She nods, I need to change the pace and soon.
"But then, " pause for effect, "I heard this ruckus from behind the couch. I can tell you I was scared! I thought the yuckman was coming for me. Really! But the ruckus sounded weird. There was more than one thing making noise behind the couch, and it sounded like it was fighting with the yuckman.
She pulls the blanket to just under her eyes, which are watering up, "What did you do, Daddy?"
Here it comes, she's going to love this, "What did I do? Why I," I'm lifting the afghan from the foot of her bed so I can peek around it at her, "I looked to see what was going on! And can you imagine what I saw?"
She's shaking her head vigorously, her covers just a little closer to being thrown over her head in fright. Yeah, she's going to make her little noise in a second. You folks are going to find out why I call her skweebait.
"Why I saw another enormous monster beating up the yuckman! Oh, it was such a sight to see! It was a gigantic black tiger-man with white on his muzzle and his chest, fingers and toes, kind of like this guy right here," I tell her, pointing at her cuddle-pal at the same time. She lowers the blanket a little, I can tell she has a big smile on her face.
"And he was really pounding the heck out of the yuckman. He was angry, oh was he angry at the yuckman. I could hear him roaring and snarling as he thrashed the yuckman," I relate to her. She drops the blanket completely and wiggles happily under the blanket and makes her silly little happy sound. You have to see it to really appreciate how sweet it is.
I have to keep capitalizing on it, "And you know what? He beat the yuckman up so badly, the yuckman turned to smoke and disappeared forever." More of the wiggling happiness. She loves it when the good guys win.
"But you know what the best part is?" I asked little Heather. She shakes her head, "No."
"The giant tiger-man came out from behind the couch, and looked at me. I thought for a second he was another monster that was going to eat my toes, but he didn't. He picked me up like I weighed nothing, and carried me to bed. I was pretending to be asleep, butI think he knew I was awake. I had one eye one him the whole time, and he was just, wow. His fur was all glossy and shiny, and his fangs were whiter than white. He was even cooler than the tigers you like so much in the zoo," I'm trying to avoid embellishing too much, but it's hard to describe a...well...heroic monster, you know? And of course, Heather's now leaning forward, clutching her toy and waiting for more.
"He carried me upstairs in grandma and grandpa's house to my room and he tucked me into bed, just like I do for you. He was walking into the shadows in my room when I talked to him. I asked him, 'Are you a good guy?
"He turned around and looked at me. I thought he looked really sad, but he answered me. And when he did, it was like he had thunder in his voice. He said, 'I do what I can, little one.'
"I didn't know what that meant, but I asked him another question, 'Are you a friend?'
He told me, "No. I'm just a protector. I can't afford to have friends." His thunder sounded so sad, I remember. I'm sitting back, looking at my little girl, hoping that this moment was getting to her.
So I got out of bed, and I took his hand, "Mister, everybody has to have one friend. Can I be your friend?" I asked him.
"So he looks down at me, his bright green eyes,"...okay I have to stop for a second. Thinking about how he looked at me that night...I wipe my eyes for a second and then Heather puts he little hand on my arm. I pat her little digits softly and conclude my story for her.
"His eyes, that glowed green like your critter, he just looked at me for a second, then lifted me up and gave me a hug. He carried me back to bed, tucked me in, and waved his fingers in the air, and down from nowhere dropped that little guy you're holding right now. He ruffled my hair and then stood up and walked to the shadows and vanished.
But before he left he told me something. " As long as I draw breath, I will always be your friend. I'll be a
friend to all children, now thanks to you."
I look at Heather and her eyes are getting dreamy. Time to hammer it home, now. I lean in, fix the tuck around her and her-now tightly-held black tiger toy, give her a kiss on her forehead and whisper at her, "Which is why there will never be any monsters to hurt you. There will always be magical heroes, and your dad, to fight back against the big, mean nasty things that scare little girls and little boys."
She's out. Good. I'm slowly crawling off her bed and out to the hallway. I'm sort of awake, so maybe a quick swig of milk before going back to bed might be what the doctor ordered. Yeah, I'm thirsty. So, kitchen, carton, swig swig swig (which Susan really hates) and then bed.
I walk into the kitchen downstairs and open the fridge. I take the plastic gallon jug and unscrew the cap to take a drink when I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Oh shit. I'm not alone.
I can feel my heart pounding, trying to escape my chest as I slowly turn around. I should have turned on the kitchen light, because I can barely make out the big black shape standing in the darkness surrounding the brick column where the oven sits. Fuck, he's bigger than I remember. He's practically hunching over to keep from hitting the ceiling divider.
"It's - it's you, isn't it? I remember you, I remember that night. I've never forgotten it," I'm stuttering at him. I do remember him, the story for Heather was pretty much an exact re-telling of my encounter with the black tiger.
He's just standing there, looking at me. I hope he can't tell I'm on the verge of shitting in my shorts, here. I mean, granted, I've seen real monsters, but as a kid. Here he is now, bigger than life and staring at me.
"You still have the tiger. You gave it to your daughter?" he asks me. He did - does talk! I wasn't dreaming it!
"Y-y-yeah. She's sleeping with it, now. She was scared of the "alligator man" and his friends looking to do her the nasty," I explain. Is he pissed I gave his gift away? Damn I hope not because he. Is. GIGANTIC.
He laughed.
Wait, he laughed?
His big head shakes a little before he looks a me, a grin on his tigerish face, "Yes, that. He won't bother her any more. I've seen to that. It was good you passed the toy to someone you love. That's how they get their power, toys I mean," he tells me.
I think I'm looking at him stupidly because his smile grows a little, before he speaks again, "You offered to be my friend that night. I've never forgotten that. What I gave you was a small part of me, a symbol of friendship.
"By giving it to your little girl, she'll pass it on to her children not as a symbol of friendship, but as a symbol of love. And that's the greatest power you can pass along...my friend."
He's fading away, and I'm weak in the knees, "Wait," is all I can whisper out before he's gone altogether.
I'm shaking, now. Did that just happen? I'm in my pajamas, holding a cold container of milk and my mouth wide open after talking to a colossal tiger monster from my childhood.
I was sleepwalking. I must have been. I feel like a dipshit, cap the milk and put it back, and work my way back up the stairs.
It's raining, now. Just starting, too. Falling back to
sleep will be easy now. I pass Heather's room, the green glow from inside is
soft and...green? Glow?
I look in and see the tiger monster one last time, on a knee and caressing some stray hairs from Heather's face. I don't think he sees me, or doesn't mind. I don't know. All I know is he knows my daughter now, and I know, somehow, she's safer than anybody could be right at that moment.
He looks at me. Those eyes, so haunted and alone, how could he live with that?
He just smiles a little, and says, "Thank you," and is gone.
I'm standing in my daughters doorway for the longest time, looking at the sweetest little girl a father could ever hope for, thinking she's never going to know fear for the rest of her life.
I think how crabby I was when I woke up to check on her, and now all I can feel is this swelling in my chest, and pressure behind my eyes. Yeah, my man card is burning up as I feel a tear roll down my cheek. I wipe it away and head back to bed.
Susan hasn't moved an inch, and looks so small in our bed. I crawl in and spoon up next to her. She lifts her head as I slide my arm beneath it and wrap my free arm around her. Damn, her hair smells great. I give her a little hug before I lay my head down and close my eyes.
"Is Heather okay, Jeff?"
I hug her again, "She's just fine, baby. And always will be."
I'm sitting up, groggy as hell, my eyes feel like hot
gravel, and I'm struggling to find my glasses on the nightstand. I get up, a little pissed off M my favorite dream of my wife, Susan, dressed like Katy Perry and shaking her ass in a music video was interrupted. I love my wife, don't get me wrong, but damn it, this is the third time tonight she passed this on to me. Fuck my life.
I'm not feeling very mobile and shuffle down the hall to Heathers room. Why she's calling out at night escapes meand I'm a little tired with it. I peek in, the moon is shining in and the whole room is lit up. Lots of light, including her Dora the Explorer night light so her monster things should be nixed, you'd think. Right? Hell no. I can hear her whining under her covers.
"Hey, skweebait, what's wrong?" I ask her, putting on my sweet dad face and voice, but judging how I feel, I'm probably more frightening than whatever monster she's dreamt up this time. I take a couple of steps and sit on the side of her bed, peeling the covers out of her little fingers and off of her adorable little face. Shit, how can anyone stay mad at my little girl?
"The alligator man from under my bed came back," she's almost frantic, now, great. "He was pulling more monsters from under my bed. They were - were - THEY WERE GONNA EAT ME, DADDY!" She's now a blubbering mess.
Swell.
Time for Dad, the Great and Powerful, to weave his magic again,put her back to sleep, and conquer her fears once an for all. Stories always work, I mean - c'mon, I'm Dad, and I know this shit. It's either that or she crawls in with Susan and I and we get pummeled by 7-year-old hands and rock-hard heels. Well, not tonight, my friends. I have one story I haven't told her yet, Maybe tonight's the night for it.
"Hey, hey, hey, skweebait, no tears, now. The Paladins don't like it when little girls cry, now," I start working her into the story. Am I clever or what? Oh, shut up, I'd like to see you do better.
"The - the- Pala-whats, daddy?" she asks, lifting her head and looking into my eyes with her wide brown ones. She looks so much like her mother, I think. Any boys out there the same age? When you get older, she's off limits. Got it? Good.
"The Paladins, baby. Magical knights from a faraway place patrol the world to protect little girls and little boys from mean and nasty things like bed monsters and closet monsters and furry monsters you see on TV that wannaaaaa...NIBBLE YOUR TOES! ARRRR Om nom nom nom!" Now she's giggling as I pretend eat her toes. See? I'm an awesome dad.
I stop playing with her tiny feet and look at her with my best dad look and a big smile I save only for her, "You mean to tell me you've never heard the story of how a powerful knight saved my life when I was your age?" Oh, I'm good.
"Wooooowwwwwww, no. Are you gonna tell me it, now?" With such a sweet look on her face, how could I say no?
"Yep, skweebait, I am, but you have to tuck on in under your blanket, and with your..." Damn, which one? "Which one do you want to cuddle, baby?"
"I dunno, Daddy. You pick one," she tells me. Just like her mother. She gets that from her side of the family, just so you know. Then it hits me.
I think of the one she rarely hunkers in with. I don't know why, but tonight, she's not getting a choice. I step to her pile of stuffed animals and grab the one I have in mind.
I turn around and hold it up to my face, moving it's little furry paws and make silly growling noises at Heather. She giggles at me again, so I know she's getting into it. Good. I put the critter in her left arm, and cover them both up to their chins.
Heather looks at the toy, then to me, "Why the black tiger one, daddy. I think it's kinda scary."
"Well, that black tiger one was a special gift from the Paladin that saved my life, a long, long time ago," I reply. Her eyes get wider, she looks at her feline companion and then back at me. This is going to be fun. I hope I remember how things went that night.
"You see, when I was five, I was afraid of the couch monster I used to call the 'yuckman'. Where we used to live, we had a really ugly couch that sat next to the wall. It had icky colors and a yucky plaid pattern, " I lean in and rumble clownishly, "and it smelled funny." Heather crinkles her nose and settles in for more. Ahhh, Daddy's little girl.
"Well, I wasn't afraid of the couch itself, but I was
afraid of this big, scary monster that I thought used to hide behind the couch.
It - "
"What did it look like, Daddy?" Heather sits up and asks
me.
"I was going to tell you, honey. Now lie back down, good,
let me tuck you in a little more, and I'll finish, okay?" I tell her. She nods
slowly with a half-smile. Yeah, she's getting into story-time now.
Nice.
"This monster thingie had a funny, pointy head with big, yucky googly eyes, a big, round nose, a bunch of sharp teeth, and really hairy eyebrows. It was big, and hairy kinda like Grandpa Don, and had long, pointy claws.
"Oh, I'd see it from time to time, when nobody else was looking, and it would do things like shake its claws at me, or lick it's lips, and sometimes it would chase me around the living room. It was terrible. I thought it would eat me, or tear me to bits, or worse." I can tell by the look on her face, she's on the verge of horror again, time to switch gears.
"Then one night, I was sleeping in the living room. I don't know why, but I fell asleep on the yucky couch. That wasn't a very smart thing to do, right?" She nods, I need to change the pace and soon.
"But then, " pause for effect, "I heard this ruckus from behind the couch. I can tell you I was scared! I thought the yuckman was coming for me. Really! But the ruckus sounded weird. There was more than one thing making noise behind the couch, and it sounded like it was fighting with the yuckman.
She pulls the blanket to just under her eyes, which are watering up, "What did you do, Daddy?"
Here it comes, she's going to love this, "What did I do? Why I," I'm lifting the afghan from the foot of her bed so I can peek around it at her, "I looked to see what was going on! And can you imagine what I saw?"
She's shaking her head vigorously, her covers just a little closer to being thrown over her head in fright. Yeah, she's going to make her little noise in a second. You folks are going to find out why I call her skweebait.
"Why I saw another enormous monster beating up the yuckman! Oh, it was such a sight to see! It was a gigantic black tiger-man with white on his muzzle and his chest, fingers and toes, kind of like this guy right here," I tell her, pointing at her cuddle-pal at the same time. She lowers the blanket a little, I can tell she has a big smile on her face.
"And he was really pounding the heck out of the yuckman. He was angry, oh was he angry at the yuckman. I could hear him roaring and snarling as he thrashed the yuckman," I relate to her. She drops the blanket completely and wiggles happily under the blanket and makes her silly little happy sound. You have to see it to really appreciate how sweet it is.
I have to keep capitalizing on it, "And you know what? He beat the yuckman up so badly, the yuckman turned to smoke and disappeared forever." More of the wiggling happiness. She loves it when the good guys win.
"But you know what the best part is?" I asked little Heather. She shakes her head, "No."
"The giant tiger-man came out from behind the couch, and looked at me. I thought for a second he was another monster that was going to eat my toes, but he didn't. He picked me up like I weighed nothing, and carried me to bed. I was pretending to be asleep, butI think he knew I was awake. I had one eye one him the whole time, and he was just, wow. His fur was all glossy and shiny, and his fangs were whiter than white. He was even cooler than the tigers you like so much in the zoo," I'm trying to avoid embellishing too much, but it's hard to describe a...well...heroic monster, you know? And of course, Heather's now leaning forward, clutching her toy and waiting for more.
"He carried me upstairs in grandma and grandpa's house to my room and he tucked me into bed, just like I do for you. He was walking into the shadows in my room when I talked to him. I asked him, 'Are you a good guy?
"He turned around and looked at me. I thought he looked really sad, but he answered me. And when he did, it was like he had thunder in his voice. He said, 'I do what I can, little one.'
"I didn't know what that meant, but I asked him another question, 'Are you a friend?'
He told me, "No. I'm just a protector. I can't afford to have friends." His thunder sounded so sad, I remember. I'm sitting back, looking at my little girl, hoping that this moment was getting to her.
So I got out of bed, and I took his hand, "Mister, everybody has to have one friend. Can I be your friend?" I asked him.
"So he looks down at me, his bright green eyes,"...okay I have to stop for a second. Thinking about how he looked at me that night...I wipe my eyes for a second and then Heather puts he little hand on my arm. I pat her little digits softly and conclude my story for her.
"His eyes, that glowed green like your critter, he just looked at me for a second, then lifted me up and gave me a hug. He carried me back to bed, tucked me in, and waved his fingers in the air, and down from nowhere dropped that little guy you're holding right now. He ruffled my hair and then stood up and walked to the shadows and vanished.
But before he left he told me something. " As long as I draw breath, I will always be your friend. I'll be a
friend to all children, now thanks to you."
I look at Heather and her eyes are getting dreamy. Time to hammer it home, now. I lean in, fix the tuck around her and her-now tightly-held black tiger toy, give her a kiss on her forehead and whisper at her, "Which is why there will never be any monsters to hurt you. There will always be magical heroes, and your dad, to fight back against the big, mean nasty things that scare little girls and little boys."
She's out. Good. I'm slowly crawling off her bed and out to the hallway. I'm sort of awake, so maybe a quick swig of milk before going back to bed might be what the doctor ordered. Yeah, I'm thirsty. So, kitchen, carton, swig swig swig (which Susan really hates) and then bed.
I walk into the kitchen downstairs and open the fridge. I take the plastic gallon jug and unscrew the cap to take a drink when I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Oh shit. I'm not alone.
I can feel my heart pounding, trying to escape my chest as I slowly turn around. I should have turned on the kitchen light, because I can barely make out the big black shape standing in the darkness surrounding the brick column where the oven sits. Fuck, he's bigger than I remember. He's practically hunching over to keep from hitting the ceiling divider.
"It's - it's you, isn't it? I remember you, I remember that night. I've never forgotten it," I'm stuttering at him. I do remember him, the story for Heather was pretty much an exact re-telling of my encounter with the black tiger.
He's just standing there, looking at me. I hope he can't tell I'm on the verge of shitting in my shorts, here. I mean, granted, I've seen real monsters, but as a kid. Here he is now, bigger than life and staring at me.
"You still have the tiger. You gave it to your daughter?" he asks me. He did - does talk! I wasn't dreaming it!
"Y-y-yeah. She's sleeping with it, now. She was scared of the "alligator man" and his friends looking to do her the nasty," I explain. Is he pissed I gave his gift away? Damn I hope not because he. Is. GIGANTIC.
He laughed.
Wait, he laughed?
His big head shakes a little before he looks a me, a grin on his tigerish face, "Yes, that. He won't bother her any more. I've seen to that. It was good you passed the toy to someone you love. That's how they get their power, toys I mean," he tells me.
I think I'm looking at him stupidly because his smile grows a little, before he speaks again, "You offered to be my friend that night. I've never forgotten that. What I gave you was a small part of me, a symbol of friendship.
"By giving it to your little girl, she'll pass it on to her children not as a symbol of friendship, but as a symbol of love. And that's the greatest power you can pass along...my friend."
He's fading away, and I'm weak in the knees, "Wait," is all I can whisper out before he's gone altogether.
I'm shaking, now. Did that just happen? I'm in my pajamas, holding a cold container of milk and my mouth wide open after talking to a colossal tiger monster from my childhood.
I was sleepwalking. I must have been. I feel like a dipshit, cap the milk and put it back, and work my way back up the stairs.
It's raining, now. Just starting, too. Falling back to
sleep will be easy now. I pass Heather's room, the green glow from inside is
soft and...green? Glow?
I look in and see the tiger monster one last time, on a knee and caressing some stray hairs from Heather's face. I don't think he sees me, or doesn't mind. I don't know. All I know is he knows my daughter now, and I know, somehow, she's safer than anybody could be right at that moment.
He looks at me. Those eyes, so haunted and alone, how could he live with that?
He just smiles a little, and says, "Thank you," and is gone.
I'm standing in my daughters doorway for the longest time, looking at the sweetest little girl a father could ever hope for, thinking she's never going to know fear for the rest of her life.
I think how crabby I was when I woke up to check on her, and now all I can feel is this swelling in my chest, and pressure behind my eyes. Yeah, my man card is burning up as I feel a tear roll down my cheek. I wipe it away and head back to bed.
Susan hasn't moved an inch, and looks so small in our bed. I crawl in and spoon up next to her. She lifts her head as I slide my arm beneath it and wrap my free arm around her. Damn, her hair smells great. I give her a little hug before I lay my head down and close my eyes.
"Is Heather okay, Jeff?"
I hug her again, "She's just fine, baby. And always will be."