Unlikely babysitter

"Benny, I can't stay here. Why can't I stay home?" Druid was complaining, standing at the doorstep of my house, a pout forming on her lips. Her tone was full of frustration, and I could tell she wasn't happy about being dropped off here.

"Are you sure, Benny?" I asked again, trying to make sense of his decision.

"Yeah, after what she did last time, I can't let her be alone at home," Benny responded, his voice heavy with concern.

Druid's eyes narrowed, clearly irritated by the fact that at 16, she had to be looked after by a middle-aged man. She crossed her arms, visibly uncomfortable.

Benny bid us farewell with a half-hearted smile, and I closed the door behind him, locking it as though that would somehow make everything feel more secure. Druid, having been here so many times, let herself in like she owned the place. She plopped herself onto the sofa without hesitation, pulling out her phone.

I hesitated for a moment, then sat down on the single armchair across from her, pulling out my embroidery kit to pass the time. As I threaded the needle, I could feel her eyes on me—curious, almost too curious, as if she was studying me like some foreign creature.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious, as I caught her staring.

"Well, I didn't know you had such a soft taste, Uncle," she said, her voice dripping with mockery.

I shot her a smirk, trying to brush off the discomfort. "I didn’t know you were such a judgy person, Druid," I teased, but I couldn’t hide the unease in my voice.

"UGH! You and Benny are the same," she groaned, folding her arms tightly, her eyes fixed on me in annoyance.

"Come on, Druid," I chuckled, trying to ease the tension, "Your brother is such a caring guy. I promise, he's nothing like me."

Benny had told me during our dinner outings about how their parents weren’t fit to raise Druid, and how he became her guardian at 21, with help from some relatives. I didn’t ask too many questions—Benny wasn’t the type to share, and I didn’t want to push him further. It was one of those unspoken rules between us: no prying into each other’s personal lives. Still, it stung sometimes, knowing the weight Benny carried for his sister.

The only reason I was looking after Druid today was because Benny and his girlfriend Cynthia had to go to his family’s house for some legal stuff. Benny didn’t want his sister left alone after the "incident"—the one where she almost burned their house down trying to heat up an entire tin of red beans in the microwave.

After a while, Druid put down her phone, clearly bored. "Can I play the video game?" she asked, looking for something to do.

I nodded. "Go ahead, grab one from my son’s room."

A few minutes later, I heard her calling for me from the hallway.

My heart raced as I rushed into my son’s room, my mind racing with worry. The place was dusty and untouched, a silent testament to how long it had been since anyone had been inside. Druid held up an old game cartridge.
"Do you know what this is?" she asked, excitement in her voice.

I looked at the cartridge, puzzled. "No, what is it?"

"This is a limited edition farming simulator from the early 90s!" she said with excitement.

I smiled sadly. "I don’t know, Druid."

She placed it back on the shelf, a little disappointed. "Seems like you haven’t been in here for a while," she said. I nodded. "No one uses this room anymore," I admitted. "I haven’t cleaned it in months." Maybe I should’ve kept it dusted.

She placed it back where she found it. " Seems like you didn't enter here for a long time," she said. I nodded. No one is using that room so I stopped cleaning it for few months. Maybe I should at least keep the room dust clean. 

" I noticed you only seem to tell how your daughter, why don't your talk about your son," she asked which main my heart throbbed in agony while she kept her eyes on the dusty rack filled with video games cartridges. 

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. My chest tightened, and I felt a pang of agony. My sweet daughter, Leia, and my reserved son, Desmond—both of them were still the apples of my eye, even though their lives had moved on without me.

"Well, my son is usually calm," I said quietly, my heart heavy. "He keeps to himself, unlike Leia."

Druid looked at me, her tone now oddly mature. "Maybe he just got tired of reaching out."

Her words were like a dagger, hitting me where it hurt most. I remembered how Desmond used to run up to me with excitement in his eyes, eager to show me something or just spend time with me. But I had been too wrapped up in trying to prove myself to my father, too focused on taking over the family company. I pushed him away, telling him I was too tired. Over time, he stopped asking.

Maybe Druid was right. While I a grown man trying to get my father attention for approval, I have neglected my own young son who was trying get his father attention for love and warmth.

Druid, oblivious to my inner turmoil, dusted herself off and walked past me toward the kitchen.
"Uncle, is there any food?" she asked casually.

I made lunch for her, and as she smiled up at me with that bright, innocent grin, who smiled so bright at me who was crying inside with so much regret.