He didn’t come home early yesterday
He wasn’t late
Either
Just a strange feeling
About it
Nerves
Maybe
But she still didn’t feel great
About it
She remembered the last time she had this feeling
She had ignored it for months
Leading to devastation
Months
Of healing
It shouldn’t hurt
She thought
To ask him this evening
But it had been early
When she got the text
He’d be late tonight
Alright
This shouldn’t be enough to start a fight
But she couldn’t sleep
Right away
She snapped awake
On the couch
When she heard a sound
That was more than the TV in the background
“Waiting for me?”
He asked her
That smile
Hadn’t been on his face in a while
Directed at her
Made her return it
“Maybe…”
But that didn’t change her question
“Why were –“
“I was talking to Truth.”
Her face twisted
Slightly
Thinking
“Truth is nothing like me.”
Guessing he’s ready to leave
Likely
Until he spoke again
“Do you need a father
For your daughter
Or do you want me?”
Catching her off guard
“She does need a person
With stability – “
“What happens when that person
Is not me?
What happens
When your father is invited back
Into your family?
Do you forget about our familiarity?”
She didn’t know how to respond
So her words
Were the first to come to mind
“Here I was thinking
You didn’t like me; contemplating
Leaving.
Might be
Tonight
We would break it off
Quietly
Leave with respect
Mutually.
Usually a man gets distant
Unusually
When they want out
But don’t know
How to break the news to me.
Then you said you were
Speaking to Truth…”
“Only because Truth is
Used to me
And
Know how I used to be.
You are my future
And Truth didn’t want me
To lose it.
See
I’ve been thinking
I was losing you
And being your daughter’s
Father
Was your only use for me.”
“Like you said
It would be nice
But for that you’re not needed.
I have enough male company.”
His face twisted a little
She continued through it
“What I mean is
I want you
Because I want you for me.
Speaking of parents.
Tomorrow
My mother wants to take
That bundle of joy
For a couple days.
Giving me a chance
To show you a few things
I haven’t had a chance to wear.”
By now she was whispering in his ear
Pulling him down to the chair
Telling him musically
All the intimate things
He had been missing out
And just as her lips
Were about to reach his mouth
They were interrupted
By an infant crying out.
“Your turn or mine?”
He laughed and headed up the stairs
“Still wondering why we never have time.”