The Single Dad: Girl’s Sexual Awakening

Does she want money? Is that why she showed up out of nowhere?

Is it something else?

My thoughts weren’t straight.

My head a cloudy mess of questions.

My chest a steady, relentless ache.

Rebecca pressed the baby against my stomach.

I immediately reacted, cupping my arms beneath her, taking the weight of this small, precious bundle, holding her so carefully that I didn’t wake her.

Rebecca took a step back and said, “The truth is, I never intended to tell you about her. I was just going to give her up for adoption, and you would have never even known she was born.”

I held the baby tighter, tilting her toward my chest. “What made you change your mind?”

“The social worker. I didn’t trust her and decided I wanted better for the baby.” She nodded toward my arms. “She wrapped her arms around our daughter, and I took her back.” Her eyes were getting misty. “It wasn’t right.”

“I don’t understand.” My head shook as I tried to process what I was hearing. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t want her, Ford. I want you to have her, raise her. Be the parent she needs. The parent I can’t be to her.” The tears started to well in her eyes. “You’ll be so much better than me.” She placed the bag on my shoulder and wrapped her arms around her still-swollen belly. “After today, you’ll never see me again.”

I glanced between Rebecca and the baby. “Let’s go inside and talk about this. I’m sure you’re just exhausted and-”

“I never wanted her, Ford. My feelings haven’t changed now that she’s born.” She held her hand out as though she was stopping me from coming closer. “Either you take her or I’m calling the social worker in the morning.” With her other hand, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a card. “I kept her information.” Tears now dripped down her cheeks.

“Rebecca, you need to give me a minute to process this.” I looked at the baby again, my brain not computing that I was holding my child in my arms. I tried to connect the pieces of her that resembled me. The eyes? Nose? I couldn’t think; I couldn’t even breathe. “It’s the middle of the night; you woke me out of a dead sleep. You’re leaving me with a baby.” I swallowed. “My baby.” When I looked at Rebecca, the tears were wetting her lips. “I don’t know what to do. What to think. How to care for her. I have questions. I have …”

I wanted to take Rebecca by the arm and bring her into my house and tuck her into the bed in my guest room, giving her the sleep she needed. I would call a therapist in the morning, so we could figure out exactly what was going on here.

But those were just ideas, and all I had in this moment were words. Words that needed to be persuasive enough that I could convince her we could somehow do this-together. So far, it seemed like nothing I’d said was registering. She wasn’t hearing me; she certainly wasn’t listening.

She was just looking at the baby, crying.

“Rebecca, I’m sure it’s been almost impossible to get any sleep. You’re tired, your body is recovering from-”Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Don’t tell me how I’m feeling.” She pulled the sides of her jacket together, the material too small on her to close. “I know exactly what I’ve gone through and what I want, and my mind is made up.”

Our stare broke as she looked at her daughter, using the back of her hand to wipe the newest tears. “I failed you … I’m sorry.” Her voice wasn’t any louder than a whisper. “Your father will be everything you ever need.”

“What? Wait! Rebecca,” I called for her as she turned around and walked toward the gate. “You’re her mother. You can’t just hand her to me and tell me you don’t want her, and she’s suddenly my responsibility.”

Her stare intensified. “You’re her dad. Yes, I can.”

I held the baby toward her mother, trying to close the space between us, but at the same time, she was moving in the opposite direction. “Rebecca, we need to talk about this, rationally. We need-”

“Everything you need is in that bag. Birth certificate; a form from the attorney, giving you all parental rights; formula, bottles, and diapers. Notes for what you need for her and when to feed her.” She turned her back to me, taking several more steps, but looked over her shoulder to add, “Take care of her, Ford.”

She hurried out of the gate, and she was gone.

Fuck.

Me.

As though the little one had heard my thoughts, she started to stir. I instantly froze, having no idea what the fuck to do.

Shit.

Is she going to cry?

Is she hungry?

Does she need to be changed?

“Waaah!” the baby wailed.

I didn’t know how to make her stop or figure out the reason she was crying-I’d never been around a baby before-but she was getting louder.

Much, much louder.

“Rebecca!” I yelled, trying to look through the hedges for a flash of headlights. “Rebecca, come back!”

While I waited for her to return, I rocked my arms, hoping the movement would help, establishing a pattern of swinging forward and back.

She didn’t calm.

She only cried harder, each sway filling my ears with more, “Waaah!”

My eyes shifted between the entrance of the driveway to the baby. But the longer I stood here, expecting Rebecca to round the corner at any second, the more I realized she wasn’t coming back.

“What am I going to do?”

I gazed at the baby as she screamed in my arms. Her lips, so miniscule, were curled, showing her bare gums, her cheeks scrunched and red from all the crying.

“I don’t know what to do,” I told her. “I don’t know how to make you feel better. Until I can figure out what time it is and wake your grandma up and have her come over here, I need to somehow care for you.” I continued to look at her, hoping the answer would come to me. “Are you cold?” I closed the blanket, bunching it up to her neck. “Hungry?”