Four years later….
No matter how many times I visit her, it never gets any easier.
While sucking in a big breath, I scan the cemetery, seeking the paparazzi hiding in wait. They never cut me any slack, even while visiting a cemetery.
Penelope wiggles in her car seat. “Come on, Daddy.”
I unbuckle her, prop her on my hip, then lean back in to grab the tulips I purchased at the florist this morning. The instant I place Penelope on the ground, the sound of clicking cameras rises from the bushes at the entrance of the cemetery.
After raising my middle finger in the air, I turn it in the direction the noise is coming from, smirking arrogantly about how they won’t be able to sell any of the pictures they’re snapping. I’ve learned the past few years that no magazine will print a picture of me flipping the bird, so that's exactly what I give the paparazzi anytime they hassle me. I don’t mind posing for photos during events, or when I’m on tour with the band, but once I’m home, I expect a little bit of respect, and, God forbid, privacy.
Penelope’s beautiful giggle bellows out of her when she notices my finger. “Unky Jacob said that's not a nice finger.”
“Uncle Jacob doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” I return her to my hip before quickening my pace. Because the cemetery is gated, they can only capture us while we’re in the parking lot.
Once we’re far enough away they’ll no longer get any photos of Penelope, I place her back on her feet. “They’re pretty flowers, Daddy.” The country twang in her voice makes me smile.
“Thank you, darling,” I reply in my best fake country accent.
Penelope is our little blessing, the baby Kylie and I thought we’d never have. She’s turning four in six weeks and three days. Yes, I know the exact number of days because she updates me first thing every morning. She’s been counting down the past three months.
Penelope is named after both Serena and Melanie. Her full name is Penelope Rae. Penelope was my sister's middle name, and Rae was Melanie’s. Her face is as beautiful as her mother's, and she even has a small gathering of freckles across her button nose. Her hair is a cross between Kylie’s and mine, making it dark blonde in color. It’s so flawlessly straight, I often joke it would be perfect for dreads.
I haven’t been able to grow my dreads back since I cut them off for charity years ago. I’ve tried, but getting past that annoying fuzz stage in your late twenties and early thirties is fucking annoying. I could get away with it when I was a teenager, but I’m a dad now, and I look fucking ridiculous with a ball of fuzz on the top of my head, so I have my hair clipped all the time.
Once I reach her gravestone, I place the tulips on top before squatting down to clear away the leaves fallen over her plaque. A ghost of a smile stretches across my face when Penelope gathers the leaves to place them in a pile underneath a tree. She’s a bit of a tree hugger.
When the gravesite is back in presentable condition, I sit on the ground before offering up my lap for Penelope. I don’t say anything. I don’t need to. She knows I’m here, quietly reflecting on our memories.
Around five minutes later, Penelope grunts. She’s as impatient as I am. I’m surprised she even lasted five minutes. “I miss Mommy.”
“I know you do, baby girl. So do I.”
When I adjust her position so she’s sitting sideways, her dazzling hazel eyes lock with mine. My heart clenches when I see her little tears. Wanting to ensure her tears don’t fall, I pretend to steal her nose. “I’ve got your nose.” I stick part of my thumb out between two fingers.
Penelope’s mouth gapes open as her hands shoot up to her nose. “Give it back, Daddy.”
I don’t believe her anger. There’s too much of her smile peeking out from beneath her hands for her ruse to be plausible.
“I’m going to eat it.”
When I raise my hand to my mouth, Penelope leaps out of my lap, squealing. “You can’t eat my nose, Daddy,” she protests, mortified. “You can eat my boogers, but not my nose.”
I throw my head back and laugh. How was I ever scared of having kids? Penelope ensures I never have to grow up. I even have the privilege of testing out her toys for “safety” before she’s allowed to use them.
“I’ve already had breakfast today, but thanks for the offer.”
Her smile competes with the sun. “You’re welcome.”
She has wonderful manners. I have no clue who she gets them from.
After popping her nose back on her face, I stand, taking her with me. “Did you want to go and visit Nevaeh?”
Penelope’s pupils widen as she nods, excitement beaming out of her.
I lean over and kiss the top of the gravestone. “I’ll come back in a couple of days,” I promise before walking hand in hand out of the cemetery with one of my most precious gifts.
As I buckle Penelope in her car seat, she lets out a little yawn. She’s been waking early the past few mornings, and it’s catching up with her.
