The Greatest Gift
SS by Amanda

“You look pretty,” he says, his eyes never moving from the New York Times he’s reading.

“Thanks Daddy,” I reply, my voice showing evidence of the shock I just received. 

In the four years since I signed with Jive, I’ve never heard him say those words to me.  He’s never told me that I look pretty.  He’s never said anything remotely close.

I feel that he wants to talk more, but he is afraid.  This is not in his nature.  He closes himself off from people because he doesn’t know how to express his emotions well.

“Did you get the chance to listen to my new cd?” I ask timidly, not sure if I really want to hear his answer.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice showing no emotion whatsoever. 

I decide not to press any further.  I figure that he will tell me what he thinks when he is ready.

I look back down at the In Style magazine in my hand and pretend to read some article about great ways to spice up your love life.  However, what I really want to do is go over to him and set on his lap and have him wrap his arms around me and rock me like he did when I was a little girl, but I don’t know how welcome I would be.  Our relationship has been so strained since my career took off.  I sometimes feel that he resents me for taking momma and Jamie Lynn away so often and destroying our once normal lives.  I know that sometimes he wants our lives to return to the way it was before I signed that deal with Jive or even before I went on the Mickey Mouse Club and for us to just be the Spears’ family from Kentwood, Louisiana.  Sometimes, I’m sure he wishes that he wasn’t the father of a pop star who is the subject of so much criticism, criticism that all too often is unfairly directed at him or momma.

“I liked it,” his voice breaks me from my thoughts and I immediately turn my head toward him, my eyes wide with surprise.

“You did?” I ask, a small smile forming across my face.

He shakes his head yes and looks up at me for a brief moment and I can see the love in his eyes before he turns his gaze back down to the newspaper.  It’s at this moment that I realize that I don’t remember a time when I’ve actually felt that love in his eyes. 

We set in silence for a while, both of us continuing to act like we are reading.  I only wish he knew what his words mean to me.  I want him to know how glad I am that he liked the cd because his opinion is very important to me.  I bring my eyes up from the magazine and my gaze falls upon a picture of me and my father sitting on the table across from me.  I’m around 8 years old in the picture and we are at one of my dance recitals.  I’m dressed in a ballerina costume and my dad is holding me with this huge grin on his face.  I smile to myself as I remember how close we used to be.  I don’t really understand what changed that.  I’ve always wondered if he was embarrassed of me or if he felt alienated by my success. 

As I turn back around to him, I’m surprised to see that he has put the New York Times down and is now holding the Rolling Stone magazine with me on the cover.  His eyes are glued to the article about his little girl.

I stare at him for a few moments, but he says nothing.  I decide that maybe it would be best if I left him alone.  I slowly rise from my chair and begin to walk out of the room when his voice stops me dead in my tracks.

“I’m proud of you Britney,” he says, his voice cracking from the overwhelming emotion he must be feeling.

My heart stops.  He’s proud of me.  Does he know how long I’ve waited to hear those words from him? 

Tears spring into my eyes as I slowly walk over to him and cautiously set down on his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck.  I can feel his hesitation as he slowly moves his arms around me and starts to cry.

“Thank you daddy,” I utter between tears as I hang onto him for dear life.

“I may not always say it Brit, but please know that your daddy is always proud of you and always loves you.”

I cry harder as the words that I’ve so longed to hear flow out of his mouth.

“I love you too daddy.  I love you too.”