HTTYD - Day 18, Part 2

=======================

Sunday, November 1 (cont.)

=======================

Marcus was sitting in his armchair responding to emails on his iPad when he heard the door to the garage open behind him, and Jessie silently came back inside, finished with the lawn. “How’d it go?” he asked without turning around, hoping for the best.

“Fine,” she muttered, and he heard her walking by behind him, her footfalls padding against the wood floor as she made her way to the kitchen.

As she passed by behind him, he realized he could smell something funky, and he crinkled his nose as he turned now to look to Jessie. She was grabbing a glass of water from the sink… and she was barefoot. Did she disobey me? he wondered. She could’ve just taken her socks off already, although she didn’t go to her room. He looked around, and didn’t see any bundled up socks lying around. And she didn’t just ball them into a wad and toss them aside like she’s done before. “Jess, can you come over here?” he asked.

She finished gulping down her water before sighing and turning to strut back towards her dad, crossing her arms as she looked down at him with a bored expression on her face. “What?”

Now that she came closer, he could definitely smell it again. That distinct, gross, wet grass smell. The very one he had specifically wanted her to avoid. He pointed down to her feet with his head. “Jessie, you’re barefoot, and I didn’t see you take any socks back to your room just now when you came in. And now just like I told you would happen, your feet got dirty and even though it looks like you might’ve washed them, I can still smell them around the house!” Jessie looked at him with incredulousness. She didn’t look guilty, or like she’d been caught, she instead seemed amazed that he would even accuse her of defying his instructions. Her eyebrows narrowed, and she opened her mouth to respond, before catching herself and closing it again so she could stomp back towards the garage and head back outside. Now the way her feet pounded against the ground made it abundantly clear she was irritated with her dad. More than that really, she was angry. Marcus was confused at her reaction, but looked to the door in await of her return. She came hurling back inside only a few seconds later, clutching a pair of limp socks by her side as she stamped back towards her dad. The socks seemed to be damp, and were clearly soiled on the bottom, a mix of gray and brown and green coloring the once-fresh pieces of footwear. He realized what had happened, but it was too late. He had already hurt her with his accusation.

“My feet weren’t the only thing that got dirty,” she yelled, holding up the pair of socks. “I did wear shoes, and socks, I did just what you asked, and even after doing exactly what you told me to do, I guess stuff still got through your worn out tennis shoes, and now you thought that I just disobeyed you and went out barefoot. Now I almost wish I would’ve though, because clearly it would’ve received the same reaction from you!” She stooped down lower, her eyes filled with resentfulness as she continued berating her dad. “If you wanna complain about how my feet smell, then just imagine what my socks are like! Anything from my feet had to go through them first, they were like, fresh and clean and a nice light blue and now they look like shit!” She held them back up in front of her face and examined them, quickly biting her lip in anger as her fists curled into balls and she squeezed her eyes shut. “AARGHHH!” she screamed furiously at the ceiling. “I can’t believe I did exactly what you made me do and now I’m even worse than I would’ve been!”

She jumped onto his recliner with bent knees, both of her legs easily fitting on either side of his body that was simply too small to fill out the chair it sat in. “Look at how ruined they are, see?!” She stretched out one of the socks, showcasing how stained they were all along the soles, just hopelessly covered in green and brown. “This is your fault, Daddy!” she added, then bunched them back up and shoved them into his face. He immediately tried to recoil, except he was already sitting against the chair, so he couldn’t move back any further. Plus his daughter’s strong thighs bordered his own legs, with her knees hugging up against his torso, so he was trapped beneath her. She was right, the socks stank far worse than the faint scent of her dirty feet did. He wished he could just be smelling her feet again, he wished that the vague stains on her feet were all he had to endure, instead of being forcibly subjected to the rotten stench that had accumulated from her outside work. It was a disgusting and revolting smell, the unnatural mixture of grass and dirt with mustiness and dried sweat. Plus the socks were damp, and lifelessly cold. She made sure to hold them right up against his nose, while still leaving room above so she could look him in the eye. “I couldn’t even use any of your old socks since you don’t have them anymore, I had to use my own, and now look at them! Smell them!” she yelled again, keeping the nauseating stench pressed to his little face. He couldn’t even open his mouth to try and reply or defend himself, because he was too scared to get anything sickening onto his lips or in his mouth. “You know these were a gift to me from Auntie Emma? She got me them for my birthday last year. And I kinda liked them! They were a nice color, and they had a little white frilly thing around the ankle, aaaaaand I don’t even know where she got them! I know you’ll probably just be like ‘oh Jess I can just buy you a new pair,’” she said, mockery dripping from her voice, “but they were a gift, that’s not the point. They have sentimental value, that’s something that money can’t buy!” She was obviously letting her emotions get the best of her and not thinking logically, but he had no way to fight or even argue back. He was just along for the ride, and hoped that her frustration wouldn’t amount to anything more. “But now I’m gonna have to scrub them a bunch with like OxiClean or something, which might not even work, I don’t know. But none of this would’ve happened if you just would’ve let me go barefoot! I mean, my body is a lot easier to clean than my clothes, it’s not like my skin can really absorb stuff like how socks can. You could’ve just asked me to take a shower afterwards, what was wrong with that? Why didn’t you suggest that? But now my feet are apparently still annoying to you and my socks are ruined.” Her tirade had lasted so long that Marcus hadn’t been able to hold his breath beneath her smelly, thoroughly dirty socks. The initial smell was worse when she rushed them towards his face, but it had only worsened after his lungs had forced him to take several deep breaths, with her caked socks acting as a filter for his tainted oxygen. She continued glaring at him, and an uncomfortable several seconds passed as he coughed a few times breathing in her socks’ odious and grassy scent, before she realized she had said everything she wanted to, and finally pulled the socks off his face, climbing off the chair in the process.

He gasped for air, closing his eyes in silent thankfulness for her mercy, as he savored the sweet smell of clean air once more. The grassy aroma was still noticeable, but compared to what he had just undergone, it paled in comparison. He set aside his tablet that had still been on his lap, which Jessie now noticed and pointed to accusingly. “And you were on your iPad while I was mowing the lawn? What happened to doing chores, what happened to finishing everything by noon?”

Marcus calmly wiped his face—particularly his nose—from the dampness that had seeped onto it. “I was checking my LinkedIn and emails to see if there were any new updates for any jobs,” he quietly explained. The entire mood of the room immediately shifted. Her jaw unclenched a little, feeling awkward, and she glanced down.

“Was there any news?” she asked, significantly more somber now, but still with some leftover angst in her voice. Even if she was still on edge, she still cared about her dad and him finding a new job. His discouraging reminder, which she had basically made him tell, definitely helped to settle the mood.

“No,” he sighed, and stood up out of his chair to face her as best he could. “Jessie…” he started, but looked down at the socks she was still holding and scoffed out of disbelief for what just happened. Where do I even start?

His daughter moaned, and collapsed on the couch behind him, her head falling backwards as she stared at the ceiling. Now that her outburst had faded, she realized how incredibly rude what she had just done was. Even putting it like that was a bit of an understatement. “That was… beyond disrespectful of me,” she groaned, bringing her hands up to her eyes to rub them, like she was trying to forget what she had just done. “I’m so sorry Daddy. I… just got caught up in the moment,” she said, taking her hands away now so she could address him properly. “I wasn’t trying to be mean, honestly. I was just… really upset.” Her eyes started to water, and he watched as a tear fell its way down her cheek, and she sniffed and looked away in embarrassment, wiping them away. “It was just… very frustrating.”

Compassion filled Marcus’ heart now, and he came over beside her to console her. He hated having to smell her socks’ worn-out grass stains, but he would’ve done it a dozen more times if it meant not having to see his daughter cry. “Yeah, that’s… life. Sometimes it’s just unfair, and people are wrong. I know you know that I wouldn’t have made you do that if I had known that was gonna be the outcome. And your shower idea was great, honey! I’m sorry I didn’t think of that myself, we can do that next time. But what you did, was also very wrong too,” he added sternly. “I forgive you, I know it was just an outburst. But it can never happen again.” She nodded earnestly, feeling truly remorseful for her actions. He took a deep breath. As much as she’s sorry, which I know she sincerely is, there still need to be consequences for her actions. “Jess, I think—“

Three tiny, meager knocks rang out from their front door before Marcus could lay out her punishment. Jessie looked at her dad, who returned her look of puzzlement right back, causing Jessie to shrug. They both stood back up, and Jessie headed to the door to investigate. She opened it a crack to see who it was, but then smiled and swung it all the way open. On the other end was a small hispanic girl. Where have I seen… Oh that’s right, she’s Jessie’s friend from school. He recalled her coming over a couple times a few weeks ago to work on a school project together, and Jessie saying that she lived nearby so she hadn’t needed a ride home.

“Hey Camila,” Jessie greeted her, wiping her eyes again to make sure there was no evidence of her former tears. “What’s up?”

The shy girl glanced from her friend over to Marcus still sitting on the couch. “Um, I— my um, parents are both working today,” she softly explained, “so uh, they thought… I told them a few weeks ago that I had come here after school, and so, um, they thought that maybe I could come over today while they were working, cuz they’re not supposed to be back til pretty late, and my brothers are hanging with friends, so…”

Jessie instantly recognized what Camila was trying to say, even if she was too reluctant to say it. Without breaking her smile, she invited her in. “Oh, do you wanna hang out? I was just… talking with my dad…” she said, as Camila slowly stepped past her into their house. Behind her back, Jessie pointed to Camila, mouthing “can she stay?” to her dad while the other girl was looking around at their house. Marcus was overtaken with a look of concern and quickly nodded his head and gave a thumbs up, indicating she had done the right thing by inviting her in. “We didn’t really have anything to do today, so you’re free to just like, chill with us and do whatever.”

“Yeah, have you had lunch yet?” he asked, jogging around the couch to greet her. “Do you want anything to eat?” Is that being too forward? Am I being presumptuous by assuming she hasn’t had anything to eat yet? Her parents are just at work, that doesn’t mean they starve her for Christ’s sake.

“Yeah, I had a PB&J before coming here,” she answered. Oh, good then. “I can go home for dinner too, there’s some leftovers in the fridge that my older brother made. I just… didn’t wanna hang out by myself all day,” she said awkwardly, tracing circles on the floor with her foot. Marcus scolded himself even further. Why’d I just assume she was from a broken home, it sounds like her parents are just busy a lot.

“Oh no, there’s no need for you to go home, you can eat dinner with us,” he told her. “You can stay as long as you want.”

“Thanks,” she said, making eye contact for the first time as she scratched her ear, then quickly darted her eyes away. “Um, can I use your bathroom though?”

“Of course, it’s right down the hall,” he said, pointing her in the right direction. She faintly smiled again, and mumbled a thanks before heading to use the toilet.

Jessie turned back to her dad, “So, I… I’m still in trouble right? Should we wait til after she heads home to talk more about it?”

Marcus sighed, “Just forget about it, I don’t wanna dwell on it any longer. I already forgive you, you know that, and I know you’re not gonna do anything like that again, right?” She nodded. “Yeah, so… I guess your friend kinda saved you,” he chuckled.

She grinned, feeling unworthy of how lenient he had been on her, and stooped down to give her dad a hug. “Thanks, Daddy.” Then she stood back up and headed towards her room, before spinning back around. “Oh yeah, what about the chores we were supposed to do?” she whispered.

Marcus shrugged, “Just go have fun with your friend, I can do the other stuff. Mowing lawn was literally more than I could ever do myself, anyways.”

She giggled at his comment, “Alright, thanks Daddy.” Then turned back around as Camila came out of the bathroom so they could head to her room together. Marcus sighed at the surprising chain of events, a double surprise, and soon got to work on cleaning up around the house while his daughter was left to play with her friend for the rest of the day.