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“Oh, I can’t possibly...”
"No, I insist," I say, feeling guilty because I’m pretty sure I’m going to fire her after today.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" she asks, her voice husky. Once again, discomfort fills me. I mean technically, she’s of legal age...she's in college. But that’s still far younger than I'm comfortable with.
Yup, she definitely has got to go.
"No, thank you." I walk to the door and hold it open for her, trying to soften the abruptness with a smile. Her face falls a little and reddens. She nods silently and walks through the door.
"See you later," I call out waving as she leaves. Then I shut the door, and head back to Mikey who is tentatively taking his burger out of his bag.
"Hey Mikey,” I say as I slide into the spot next to him. "Do you mind terribly if we change your babysitter?"
He shrugs. Which means he doesn’t mind.
"Good." I ruffle his hair then sigh. Getting a new babysitter is always hard. I need to vet them thoroughly to make sure they've worked with kids like Mikey before, and understand his unique needs, and modes of communication. Additionally, I also need to make sure that none of them have any strong scents or peculiarities that could upset him.
But getting a new babysitter is the least of my problems with my son.
I observe Mikey methodically eating his burger in little bites and wonder what I'm going to do about him. If the team gets shut down, I need to find him a new social hobby that he wouldn't find objectionable. One where he can still meet people and be able to interact with them, even if indirectly.
But even if I do, what's the guarantee that any of that’s going to work?Frustration lines my gut.What if he still doesn't make friends? What if he simply chooses never to try?
What if you're failing as a father?A dark sardonic voice slithers through my mind.Because that's the real question you want to ask right? That's how you feel.
I rub my hand over my face. It's an old insecurity that keeps me awake sometimes.
I never thought I was cut out for fatherhood, sincerely. Not that I necessarily didn't want kids, but I simply didn't think I would be any good at it. I might pretend to be an arrogant ass most of the time, but I'm fully aware of my flaws. In general, I'm flighty, irresponsible, and impatient – all horrible traits to have as a father.
So, I was careful over the years to keep all my sexual encounters consequence-free.
One of them though, got away from me.
Mikey's mom was a one-night stand with a groupie, who I met at one of my games. Now I normally didn't entertain groupies, but she was different from most. She was funny and interesting to talk to in addition to being beautiful. Plus, there was no overt hero-worship that’d make me uncomfortable.
Or at least I thought so at the time.
The night we hooked up she assured me she was on the pill. Still, I insisted on using a condom as I normally do.
We hung out a few more times and I left town on good terms.
I didn't hear much from her again, until eight years later when her sister showed up with Mikey.
"Tara’s dead," her sister, Tamara, said in that deadpan way of hers, even though her eyes were grieving. "Committed suicide a few weeks ago. She left you this."
And then she handed me a letter that explained everything. From Tara's struggle with mental illness to the fact that she'd poked holes in my condom that night, after I went to the bathroom. She saw it as a miracle when she conceived and didn't tell me, because she thought I would tell her to get rid of the baby.
I didn't want your money,the letter said.I only wanted to keep a little piece of you with me when you were gone.
"You can get a DNA test if you want," Tamara said. She must’ve seen the turmoil in my face, but I shook my head. I didn't need a DNA test. One look at Mikey's eyes told me he was mine.
And as furious as I was about what Tara did, and the fact that she'd hidden him for so long, I loved the boy instantly, more than life itself.
And ever since then, I've been terrified of failing him.
I want to be a good father, but what if I just don't have it in me? What if I mess up without even knowing?
Restlessness has me rising, ruffling Mikey's hair again before I head to the porch. My eyes naturally fall on Mia's charming little house, and I smirk once again, remembering the first time we met. I was on my porch, and she was on hers and it was pretty much hate at first sight.
