Ella and her Father

                  Ella peered around the corner wall, ever so quietly descending the staircase in her home. She carried her shoes, avoiding any potential noise, hoping to sneak out before her father asked her to help with an insurmountable load of work he needed to finish for the upcoming Frilofest. As the village blacksmith and brilliant weapons maker, the festival became a busy and lucrative time for Ella’s father.

                  Although Ella benefited from the financial deluge of her father’s popularity, she hated being around him during this time. The added stress from the surplus business made him irritable and short-tempered, which was unusual for the relatively calm natured man. Worst of all, he wanted Ella to help him run his business during this time. Despite her father splurging on gifts and allowances for Ella during his financial boost, he never officially paid Ella for her efforts. Without official pay, Ella rationalized she had no obligation to help. She maintained the philosophy that if her father planned to be that busy, he should have hired someone to help. His lack of planning wasn’t her problem.

                  Ella knew that asking for forgiveness was always better than asking for permission. Just a few more steps and she would be free. She would have the entire day to herself to be with friends, hanging out, visiting all the best food booths, enjoying the warmth of the arriving summer.

                  SQUEAK!—One floorboard thought differently.

                  “Ella!” a voice called out. She made her way to the front door, when she heard her father call out again louder, “Ella!” No sooner had she opened the door, when her father came round the corner, calling her a third time, catching her attempt to sneak out. Ella winced; she knew she would have to come up with an explanation fast.

                  “Ella, are you leaving? We still have so much to do, we just need to… are those your shoes? Are you trying to sneak out?” Her father asked, surprised and confused.

                  “Uhhh….. The floors were just so clean, I didn’t want to get my dirty shoes on them, you know how mom gets.” Ella blurted out the best excuse she could dream up, seasoned with a smile of innocence.

                  “Ella! We’ve talked about this so many times. When are you ever going to learn?” He shook his head in disappointment.

                  Ella’s father launched into a lecture about responsibility and hard work, and how he needs her help during festival time. Ella rolled her eyes as she shifted to a backup plan. The lectures from her father were not as bad as being cornered by her mother. Ella and her mother struggled to find any common ground, whereas her father had always been someone Ella could relate to. He was the one she always went to when she wanted to talk to someone. They shared similar interests. He taught Ella everything she wanted to know about weaponry and how to use them. He taught her how to fight. Her father was the one that encouraged her dreams of becoming a career fighter. Ella connected with her father far easier than her mother.

                  Which meant he would be easier to work over.

                  She listened to his lecture, nodding along, mirroring some of his statements. She knew if she could go along with it, she could reach an agreement with her father before her mother got involved. Ella knew that the busy season of the festival made her father irritable from the stress of running his business, and if she agreed to help him just a little, then he would soften and give her what she wanted, and she had to do it before her mother joined the conversation.

                  After Ella listened to her father’s lecture, she agreed she needed more responsibility and follow through. Ella volunteered to take care of some of his deliveries for the first half of the day, specifically the deliveries downtown. Then, in return, she would get the rest of the afternoon to hang out with friends. Exactly as Ella expected, her father agreed. Her backup plan was working!

                  Ella gathered up the packages to be delivered, and began walking out the door, when suddenly stopped by her father. “Ella, I nearly forgot! Can you to take this order to the Tyrn encampment on the outside of town?”

                  “WHAT?! No! not the Tyrns! They are the worst! Don’t make me deliver to them. I’ll make any other delivery, just not to them!!” Ella outright disagreed.

                  “Ella! We talked about this!” Her father grew more agitated. “The Tyrns are some of my largest clients. Their business is critically important. I’ve already had to overcompensate them to build their trust and keep their business after what happened last year! If you make the delivery, and do it with a humble and respectful attitude,” her father added extra emphasis, “It will show them that as a family, as a business, we want them as customers. I need you to trust me, to trust them. We need their business.”

                  Ella stood in a frustrated silence. She learned to despise the Tyrns. The furry humanoid canine race from the far forest kingdoms were arrogant and demanding. They would show up during Frilofest with exuberant orders for the Eknorian blacksmith. Ella could never spend time with her father during the festival, since he was too busy making weapons for the Tyrns. The Tyrns made one yearly trip around Frilofest, so Ella’s father would do anything to make them happy as clients. Even if it meant missing out on the festivities. Ella targeted all her frustrations and disappointments in life on the Tyrns, since they were the easiest to blame. She never understood why her father submitted to all of their requests and demands. Her father’s craftsmanship, combined with his access to the rare ore malmstin, made his work unique, one-of-a-kind pieces of weaponry. Ella believed they should submit to her father’s demands. But every year, her father yields to their preferences and orders, which only fed a deep resentment for them and how they treated her father.

                  Ella’s father grew more and more stern in his lecture about respect, and Ella’s need to improve. She couldn’t take much more of the course correction lecture. “Okay, fine!” Ella agreed, avoiding eye contact with her father, looking only at the floor.

                  “Good.” Her father stared at her in frustration for a moment. “It’s about time you learn how important it is to run a business.” In silence, he prepped the delivery and handed it to Ella. “Don’t make me regret sending you.”

                  There it was.

                  Ella looked up at her father, shocked by his comment. He turned away to focus on the next order to fulfill. Ella grew accustomed to friends, neighbors, and townsfolk not trusting her. But her father always believed in her, always encouraged her, always took her side. It seemed her reputation for causing problems and getting into sticky situations proliferated into the psyche of her father. She knew what other people thought of her, and until that moment, she felt her father was different, never doubting his own daughter. Apparently, that was no longer the case. It became quite clear that her father also believed what others thought about her. Ella held the package in her hand for a moment, thinking about the significance of his doubt. More disappointed than angry, she added the package to her satchel and went out the door, not saying a word.

                  Ella grit her teeth, stewing over the doubt that finally filled her father’s mind, seeping its way into her own definition of self. If her own father didn’t believe in her, then who would? Ella hated these moments of doubt. It made her feel vulnerable. She hated feeling vulnerable. Ella was not only a valiant warrior when facing monstrous creatures but also highly skilled in her ability to subdue vulnerability as it crept into her mind, fighting with all her might to bury it as deep as she could, away from the discovery of anyone around her. After mumbling several curse words to herself, she pushed the fear and negative emotions under her surface personality.

                  Ella distracted herself by thinking of the events and activities of the festival, forcing herself to think of the moments she looked forward to. She kept telling herself that if she focused on the positive, all the negative thoughts would go away. As skilled as she thought she was at hiding her anger and frustration, it never went away, lurking in the shadows waiting to breach the surface, releasing bold negativity onto any villager should they cross her the wrong way. As long as the festival streets were not crowded, the unsuspecting villagers would be fine.