6 Conversations with a Father

47 5 4
                                    

"One of the greatest things a father can do for his children is to love their mother."

-Howard W Hunter

Marge inserted her key into the key-hole of the front door to her apartment to realize the door was already unlocked. She bent down and slightly lifted the potted plant next to the door to reveal nothing; no spare key. She then remembered that she had previously asked Maria to come early that day to prepare a nice wholesome breakfast. She had had a long night the previous day after which she had crashed at a friend's house.

"I'm here. Please tell me that breakfast's ready. I'm ravaged!" Marge yelled through the household hoping that Maria had heard. But the one thing she did not expect to see was currently sitting on the floor in front of the TV engrossed in the re-run of SpongeBob SquarePants. 

Hearing the sound of someone entering the apartment, a figure walked out of the kitchen. A pan of scrambled eggs in hand and an apron around the waist, the figure awkwardly smiled at Marge. "She was hungry so I thought I'd whip something up. Didn't know when you were coming home."

Marge looked back and forth between the girl in front of the TV and the figure in front of her, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"She was crying all night yesterday. She wanted to see you bad. So I bought her over in the morning as soon as I could." He looked at the silhouette of the little oblivious girl on the floor and sighed sadly.

"Marge, we need to talk."

"Kitchen. Not here." Marge had recovered her voice enough to say just that.

-----------------------------------------------------------

"Matt, you know I can't. I want to but I can't"

"You can't or you won't?" There was a clear line of anger in Matt's voice. It had been six years and she still refused to be a part of the child's life. Of course he had every right to be angry.

"You know it's not like that." Marge groaned, sinking into the kitchen stool and burying her head in her hands. 

"Then tell me. What is it like?"

"She wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't ready."

"So you're saying that it was a mistake? That our daughter wasn't wanted?" Matt's face was contorted and red with anger. Claire had become his life. The hours he spent away from her, at works, were the most tormenting hours of his day.

For him being a single parent wasn't easy. Then again, it never is. But, to Matt, it wasn't easy because of the fact that he couldn't raise his daughter, Claire, with the one woman he loved, Marge, by his side.

As a young father, he aroused the interest of many a blonde, brunette and redhead, but he had just one woman in mind and apparently, so did his daughter.

He and Marge had been childhood sweethearts. Their relationship had evolved from just friends to best-friends to a deeper bond of trust, understanding and respect. Their love did not stem out of physical attraction but something much more meaningful than that. 

But, things started going downhill seven years ago when Marge discovered she was pregnant. They were 19 at that time; she was devastated and Matt was elated. He spoke of them getting married, getting the house with the white picket fence and a nursery, going to college together after the child was old enough; it scared Marge.

She wasn't afraid of the commitment or of being a young mother, rather she was afraid of becoming one of those woman with child who gave up her life for family and whose husband would eventually fall out of love with her and in love with a much qualified woman and taking her child with them. She was afraid of becoming like her mother.

ConversationsWhere stories live. Discover now