The Replaced

Honey

My dad was a lot like Honey. Or at least that's what dad told me after he first met Honey.

"He's cursed, poor kid," shaking his head back and forth, my father stared after Honey's limo as they drove away, the last of the host members to leave my house that day.

I looked up at my dad curiously. He was tall, 6'2, which contradicts me greatly, I got my mom's height of 5'3. Not to sound weird or anything but I have one good looking Dad. With his applaud worthy height, he adorned hair that was just beginning to grey, in that George Clooney sexy way, and for not having braces, had the greatest smile that could warm a heart as well as lift it. He liked to have a drink or two on the weekends but he didn't have that typical beer belly that caught up to most men his age. That's probably because with me and my younger siblings he had a daily workout that even if he didn't want it to be, was routine. And because he believed in strong family ties, we had every other weekend family outings, which usually involved some outdoor activity. This allowed his body to stay quite fit and healthy. My mom chose well. And no offense to Honey, but even though my Father wasn't the poster child of fittest man alive, he definitely didn't pose for Lolita.

I stared at him questioning. Still looking at the retreating limo, Dad used his back-in-the-day voice. "I used to be that small, right up till my senior year of college. I might of even been scrawnier." He laughed somewhat nostalgically.

My eyes could've been mistaken for fishbowls, they were that big and empty of comprehension. "Really?"

"Oh yeah," he said boisterously. "It sucked. All of the girls assumed I was in middle school and thought it was considered a crime to be seen with me unless they wanted to be mistaken as a pedophile. None of my guy friends saw it comforting that their wing man was actually what drove the ladies away."

He looked a bit resentful at that, but his eyes instantly grew when he heard my mom's father from inside the house calling us back in.

"But it's thanks to that curse that I learned who my true friends were, and my true love." As cheesy as that sounded I wasn't surprised. Mom's criteria for number one husband was he had to be a romantic, my Dad stroked that line of his t. But I didn't understand how his height made mom love him any more or less.

"Your mother," he said, continuing, "hated tall guys." My jaw dropped. My dad was 6'2.

"Yep," he said laughing, "the belle of our school refused to go out with a guy who had to bend over to kiss her and she had to stand on her toes for. She said that was too much work for a kiss. Luckily for me, we were the same height. I almost thought she was going to break up with me when I got my sudden growth sprout, but by that time we had been dating for three years and she learned my kissing skills were too good to be passed up, heels would have to do."

One day I found Honey is one of the host clubs storage rooms. He had a pencil in his hands and behind him were streaks of different colors all on the same spot, retracing the same numbers, 5'1. He looked shocked to see me there. 'Stealthily' he tossed the pencil behind him and gently pushed me out the room.

"Looking for something Ami," he asked me in his usual childish voice. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"You actually," I said smiling slightly. I handed him a picture. Gingerly, he took it from my grasp.

It was a picture of my day his sophomore year in college. He was standing beside my mom, together they looked average, but behind them were their close friends- all towering over them. After my dad had given his romantic spill I wanted proof. He dug through a photo book and found this. I told Honey his story, but he looked not at the picture, but at me, eyes widened in slight admiration.

"Being short isn't a curse, Honey." I said smiling. "For my dad it gave him my mom."

He smiled and wrapped me in a hug. His face buried in my shoulder, he whispered, "And they gave us the best gift. You."

Insecurities played a toll on all of us. I was glad to make one of Honeys go away. What he didn't know was that he made one of mine go away too. I knew Tamaki liked me, but at that point in our relationship I couldn't tell if his friends found me an unnecessary attachment, or worse, a temporary nuisance. It was nice to know I was making my way into their family, and now my family too.

I realized too late, if they accepted me they could accept more. They accepted Haruhi. And whether they meant to or not, a family can only be so big.