A Thousand Prompts: American Idol: Confusion
Title: Confusion
Prompt #16: Confusion
Medium: Fic
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the real people mentioned. Situations are either totally fabricated or a fictionalized version of real events. Not written for profit.
Author(s): ficdirectory
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Notes: written for nolechica's request for a story featuring Adam; as a part of my 1,000 prompt project. Sequel to "Chanté"
It could still catch Adam off-guard at times. The burns and the way they looked. The way they unforgettably altered him. When he went to shake someone’s hand, especially. It had been five years, but the memories remained, strong as ever. But one look at a picture of Emilio, and it was all worth it.
The little boy was six-and-a-half now, thriving in spite of his own, more severe burns, so what did Adam have to complain about? Not that he was complaining, really. Just observing. Sometimes, Adam thought about going back to Costa Rica, but that option just wasn’t feasible. So, he had to rely on Tyler West, a friend for many years, for updates. She went back to Costa Rica every year. Adam knew if she could figure out a way, Tyler would figure out a way to move there and legally adopt Emilio herself. He had been at the children’s home for so long. He deserved a home. And a family.
So many kids did.
“Daddy, what’s this?” Chante, his seven-year-old asked, tracing the burn on his hand gently. She had been with him for two years, and only now was she settling in enough to notice the subtler details around her. Penny, her new puppy, came and curled up on her feet.
“A scar,” he said simply, not wanting to go into detail, or frighten her unnecessarily.
“Does it hurt?” she asked softly.
“Not anymore.”
“What happened to make it?” Chante wondered.
“Well, I fell asleep in a room far away once, and when I woke up, there was a fire.”
Her eyebrows raised in concern. She noticed the scar on his neck and winced. “There, too,” she observed. “So what did you do? You were very brave?”
“I went to get out, because that’s what you’re supposed to do in a fire. But I heard crying, so I looked around and found a little baby under one of the beds. I couldn’t leave him behind,” Adam said simply.
“You saved him,” Chante said. “The same way you saved me?”
“A little different than that, honey,” he laughed.
“And he’s okay now?” she pressed.
“Yes, he’s okay now. He’s about your age, and he lives in Costa Rica.”
“Oh. Daddy, can we visit him? What’s he called?”
“His name is Emilio,” Adam said fondly. “He has some burns like I do…” Adam mentioned absently.
“I promise, I won’t tease him. And I’ll never tease you, either,” Chante promised.
“I’m glad. We should never tease others when something’s different about them. Different is good.”
“Just like how you’re from California and I am from Haiti and we don’t match skin, but we match in our hearts,” Chante said confidently.
“That’s right,” Adam smiled.
“I wasn’t very brave in the earthquake,” she confided, suddenly serious. “I cried a lot and wanted my mother. But she couldn’t come for me because she died already… I didn’t do anything. Just ran outside, following the people. That’s not brave like you, is it?” Chante asked, seeming disappointed with herself.
“You know what I think? That being brave doesn’t mean not being scared.”
“Please?” Chante asked, in the endearing way she had of asking for clarification.
“When I rescued that little boy, I was very afraid. Just like you. But I did what I knew in my heart I had to do. I did the right thing, just like you did by running outside. We were both afraid, but we were brave at the same time.”
“I think scars are beautiful,” Chante confessed, “because they make you my father.”
“Thank you, sweetie.”
Prompt #16: Confusion
Medium: Fic
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the real people mentioned. Situations are either totally fabricated or a fictionalized version of real events. Not written for profit.
Author(s): ficdirectory
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Notes: written for nolechica's request for a story featuring Adam; as a part of my 1,000 prompt project. Sequel to "Chanté"
It could still catch Adam off-guard at times. The burns and the way they looked. The way they unforgettably altered him. When he went to shake someone’s hand, especially. It had been five years, but the memories remained, strong as ever. But one look at a picture of Emilio, and it was all worth it.
The little boy was six-and-a-half now, thriving in spite of his own, more severe burns, so what did Adam have to complain about? Not that he was complaining, really. Just observing. Sometimes, Adam thought about going back to Costa Rica, but that option just wasn’t feasible. So, he had to rely on Tyler West, a friend for many years, for updates. She went back to Costa Rica every year. Adam knew if she could figure out a way, Tyler would figure out a way to move there and legally adopt Emilio herself. He had been at the children’s home for so long. He deserved a home. And a family.
So many kids did.
“Daddy, what’s this?” Chante, his seven-year-old asked, tracing the burn on his hand gently. She had been with him for two years, and only now was she settling in enough to notice the subtler details around her. Penny, her new puppy, came and curled up on her feet.
“A scar,” he said simply, not wanting to go into detail, or frighten her unnecessarily.
“Does it hurt?” she asked softly.
“Not anymore.”
“What happened to make it?” Chante wondered.
“Well, I fell asleep in a room far away once, and when I woke up, there was a fire.”
Her eyebrows raised in concern. She noticed the scar on his neck and winced. “There, too,” she observed. “So what did you do? You were very brave?”
“I went to get out, because that’s what you’re supposed to do in a fire. But I heard crying, so I looked around and found a little baby under one of the beds. I couldn’t leave him behind,” Adam said simply.
“You saved him,” Chante said. “The same way you saved me?”
“A little different than that, honey,” he laughed.
“And he’s okay now?” she pressed.
“Yes, he’s okay now. He’s about your age, and he lives in Costa Rica.”
“Oh. Daddy, can we visit him? What’s he called?”
“His name is Emilio,” Adam said fondly. “He has some burns like I do…” Adam mentioned absently.
“I promise, I won’t tease him. And I’ll never tease you, either,” Chante promised.
“I’m glad. We should never tease others when something’s different about them. Different is good.”
“Just like how you’re from California and I am from Haiti and we don’t match skin, but we match in our hearts,” Chante said confidently.
“That’s right,” Adam smiled.
“I wasn’t very brave in the earthquake,” she confided, suddenly serious. “I cried a lot and wanted my mother. But she couldn’t come for me because she died already… I didn’t do anything. Just ran outside, following the people. That’s not brave like you, is it?” Chante asked, seeming disappointed with herself.
“You know what I think? That being brave doesn’t mean not being scared.”
“Please?” Chante asked, in the endearing way she had of asking for clarification.
“When I rescued that little boy, I was very afraid. Just like you. But I did what I knew in my heart I had to do. I did the right thing, just like you did by running outside. We were both afraid, but we were brave at the same time.”
“I think scars are beautiful,” Chante confessed, “because they make you my father.”
“Thank you, sweetie.”