Melon, pondering the question, replied, âQuite a bit.
Do you want to see a photo?â
Melon slid off the bed and ducked underneath, pulling out a hidden iron box.
He carefully lifted the lid to unveil a variety of trinkets, each seeming to have its own story.
Digging a little deeper, he pulled out a photo neatly wrapped for protection.
He said as he offered the picture to Holden, âHere.
This is my Daddy.
â
Holden took the photo, eyes immediately drawn to the couple it featured: a man in a wheelchair and a woman, presumably Ariana, laughing behind him as she pushed.
The manâs face was only partially visible, captured in a side profile.
But that profile, that hint of a smile, was oddly familiar.
With a puzzled look, Holden examined the photograph, the resemblance uncanny.
Could he actually look so much like Arianaâs late husband?
His thoughts darted around, but he reasoned that many could share a similar side profile.
Looking back to Melon, he inquired, âDo you have a full-faced photo of your dad?â
Melonâs little face fell a bit.
âOnly this one.
My godmother took it without telling my Mommy.
I had to bug her loads before she gave it to me on the sly.
Mommy doesnât know.
â
Holden wondered why Ariana hadnât shared pictures of Melonâs dad with him.
It seemed odd.
The kid was just as in the dark as him, although Melon was mature enough to suspect that his Mommy might have a good reason to hide it.
Melonâs mood shifted quickly though, his eyes shining with optimism.
âItâs alright.
Iâm sure Daddy will be back for my next birthday, and I can see him, not just in photos!â
Holdenâs heart twisted a bit.
Melonâs hope was palpable, and he found himself at a loss for words.
Instead, he simply reached out, tousling Melonâs hair affectionately.
âHey,â Melon said, holding up his pinkie.