Daddy, I'm Pregnant

         Daddy, I'm pregnant, the letter read.  I'm too scared to tell you to your face, so I'm writing this letter and leaving it where you can find it. Please don't be mad.

         He wasn't mad.  In fact, he felt quite empty as his eyes scanned the yellow notepad paper.  Something inside him had detached itself when he read those words -- Daddy, I'm pregnant.  Anger would be too easy, and anything else would be too much, too big.  He set the letter aside and stared at the dingy walls of his apartment.  A long day at the office, an exhausting walk home from the station, his arthritic knees were paining him, and his seventeen year-old daughter was pregnant.

         What a day, huh.

         Where was she now?  At The Boyfriend's house?  Probably.  He sighed and walked into the kitchen, carefully folding her letter and pushing it into his shirt pocket.

         No, he wasn't mad at all.  He was worried.  How did she think she could support a baby?  She hadn't even graduated from high school yet, though she was only a few months away from it.  Would she drop out now, when she was so close?  How far along was she?  Would she forego finishing her education for fear that a pregnant belly would be cause for derision at school?

         Sighing again, he ran a hand through his hair and pushed the button on the coffee pot he had filled before leaving that morning.  He stood there and watched the drops of hot liquid spilling into the pot, and could not help but see his fate running helter skelter though life's filters.  As the years of his marriage had dwindled, he'd found its taste more and more bitter under the scalding grit of an unfaithful wife and three selfish, ungrateful children.  And now, this.  Did the girl have any concept of how drastically her life would change?  She probably thinks she knows it all since she's read books, seen television and movies.  She'd even brought home one of those crying-peeing dolls as part of a school project, which was intended to teach young girls a few of the difficulties, limitations and inconveniences of raising a baby.  Clearly, this had been a futile exercise for The Daughter.

         Did she think she could have the baby and leave it with her mother to care for while she went on with her life, went out with her friends, partied?  Hah!  Her mother couldn't even get her own life together, much less take responsibility for another baby.  The last time he'd heard from The Ex -- he rarely used her name any more -- she'd wanted him to fix her computer again.  She never learned.  Spending all her time online flirting with strange men in unsecure chatrooms, she was a constant target for hackers.

         He poured some coffee before the machine was finished dripping, and he scowled when the hotplate hissed at him.  What would The Ex say when she found out about this?  She'd freak, that's what.  It would be his fault.  Everything had always been his fault.  If she forgot to feed the dog it was his fault for not reminding her, or for not doing it himself.  If she lost her job it was his fault for not making enough money to support her lifestyle.  If she cheated on him it was his fault for working two jobs to pay the bills she racked up.

         When he sat on the edge of the couch and took a sip of coffee, he realized his hand was shaking.  He took another sip and set the cup down.  Then he drew the letter out of his pocket and read it over again.

         ... Please don't be mad.  I didn't mean for this to happen, and I know you're disappointed in me.  I've made a lot of mistakes but that's all just part of growing up, isn't it?  Please don't worry about me, I'll be ok.  He's going to take care of me and we'll work it out.  I'll be home soon to talk.  I love you, Daddy.

         He stared at the flowery, little-girl design on the note paper and a lump dewed up in his throat.  How had she grown up so fast?  When had she blossomed into womanhood so completely?  Then again, being able to conceive didn't mean a girl was grown-up, though he understood from experience that girls seemed to think losing their virginity would magically transform them into all-knowing adults.

         Groaning quietly, he stuffed the letter back into his pocket and pushed himself up off the couch.  Pacing hurt his knees but helped him think.  He and The Ex had raised three children, he had triple experience with crappy diapers, screaming tantrums and all-night vigils.  How can she think she's ready for all that?  More than those things, did she really understand the emotional upheaval of raising a child?  The worries about health, school, other kids, bullies, friends, accidents.  Just as important were concerns about the child's happiness.  How could she hope to provide for a child and make its life fulfilling, as well as her own?

         "Hmph," he muttered, "look who's talking.  How the hell have you failed her?"

         The divorce had been hard on the kids, but he'd tried to keep things as normal as possible.  He'd found an apartment just around the corner from the house, so he could be near them.  Much as he hated the place, it was the best he could afford with the high level of debt The Ex had foisted on him.  Since The Ex had lost the house through her gluttonous excesses and run off to Arizona with her internet boyfriend, the kids had been forced to move in with him.  It was a hard thing to share such cramped quarters with three young teens who each believed that the world did, and should, revolve around them.

         He froze when he heard the key in the front door lock.  A moment later, the door opened and she came in, followed closely by The Boyfriend.  Her moral support in this family crisis.

         "Daddy?"

         He tried to smile but knew he didn't succeed very well when he saw The Boyfriend flinch in response.

         "So, what's going on?" he asked, gesturing for them to sit.

         They sat close together on the couch.

         "Daddy, I'm sorry.  We didn't mean for this to happen--"

         "So you said."  He waved her letter briefly, then put it aside, realizing he sounded angrier than he felt.  He took a long, slow breath before continuing.  "I'm not going to lecture you two on common sense and the fact that pregnancy is a startlingly common result of unprotected sex."  Knock off the sarcasm, you're losing her.  Another breath to squelch the sarcastic barbs that still buzzed between his ears.  "Honey, do you know what you're in for with this?"

         She started to nod, then her eyes filled with tears and she shook her head.  "Not really.  I know enough to know that I don't know anything, and I'm scared."

         The Boyfriend put a protective arm about her shoulders.  Daddy had to force himself not to grab the kid by the throat and hurl him out of the front door.  This boy, this man-pretender, had defiled his little girl and planted a seed that would forever affect all of their lives, and here he was, sitting in Daddy's place, comforting Daddy's little girl with his big, stupid hands.

         The urge to indulge in axe murder passed.  He really liked this kid, the best by far of all her past boyfriends.  It was just that, right now, the boy was less than scum.  Calmly, he said, "You're not going to quit school, are you?"

         The tears in her eyes sparkled.  "Well, that's what we came here to tell you."  She paused to sniff, then she clubbed her Daddy out of left field.  "Tomorrow, I'm moving in with his family.  I'll keep going to school and graduate as planned, so you don't have to worry about that.  He lives closer to school anyway."

         Blinking in the aftershock, Daddy said, "Wait.  Just wait a minute.  You're moving in with him?"

         "Well . . . yes, Daddy."

         "Why?" he asked, desperately hoping she would offer a sane explanation.

         Slowly, she lifted one shoulder and replied, "It's better there."

         She didn't say it in a nasty way.  If she had, it would have been easier to take.  She might as well have run him through with a carving knife.  For an agonising instant he could see her as a little girl again, holding out her arms and squealing with joy at the sight of him when he returned home from work.  That one beautiful moment had made each long, hard day worth it.  To come home to such love and welcome had always been a balm for his wounded soul.  At this moment, he'd give anything to have her throw her arms around him again.

         Instead, she scorned and spurned him with her casual words.  It's better there.  All those squeals of joy suddenly seemed hollow and false.  Nothing he could provide, nothing he could do, nothing that was of him was good enough for his little princess any more.  He knew The Boyfriend's family spoiled her, spent money on her, made her feel special, important.  At home, she was just one of the kids.  He couldn't afford to indulge the expensive tastes she'd inherited from her mother.  Being told she was pregnant was hard enough.  Being told his love wasn't good enough for her any more broke his heart.

         He said nothing more.  She left with The Boyfriend, who looked relieved to be getting out alive.  Daddy watched the door close.  When the lock clicked, he lowered his head into his hands and wept.

(Word count = 1,622)

   

This story has been published in the following anthology:

ASIN: 1442148586	Writer's Bump Anthology: Volume 1: The Best Short Stories from the Best New Writers Product Type: Book
	Amazon's Price: $ 14.95 Buy Now!

   

1220165