Daddy Issues

They were in the backyard when the bottom dropped out, father and daughter, the former with a slobber-coated tennis ball clutched in one hand as he drew his arm back to throw it— Bismarck loved it and he needed to keep moving. Win-win on all counts.

"Uncle Bruce said Sam was an accident." He heard the unspoken question in the statement, cringing inwardly. The ball flew, trajectory interrupted and miscalculated, bounced wild and dropped into the pool. The German Shepherd flopped down on the edge, looking forlorn. He'd never been one to dive in without a hell of a lot of coaxing.

"Shit." He didn't catch the expletive before it slipped out, knowing full well she was at the age where she was going to start emulating those bad habits. He'd always struggled to find words, to keep his thoughts flowing linear. The swearing and filler words served as lubricant but had the unfortunate side-effect of making him seem far less intelligent than he was. He didn't want that for Allegra and more than he wanted to pass on his other flaws.

"Don't think that's what he meant, though. Sometimes accidents can be good. Happy. That's what serendipity means. Remember? We read that book with the pink dinosaur-"

"I remember, Daddy." She was solemn as those dark eyes locked on him. "Was I an accident?"



"There's something I need to talk to you about."

He didn't say anything as he lifted the lid on the pot of spaghetti, giving it a stir so that it didn't start burning. Slowly, he turned around and looked at her, immediately seeing the sparkle in her eyes— at least it wasn't something bad. "What's goin' on?"

She couldn't keep the grin off of her face, almost vibrating with excitement. "There isn't any time like the present, right?"

He nodded.

Her hands went to her flat stomach and her palms rested flat against it. "I'm pregnant, Lex." She let the words hang there for a second as she walked over and threw her arms around him. "Isn't this great? We're gonna have a baby." The delight was clear in her voice as she hugged her husband happily.

He didn't say anything, almost stiff in her embrace. Closing his eyes, he tried to do that stupid breathing technique his shrink had told him, counting in his head while breathing out the negative energy. It didn't work.

Hannah immediately noticed the change in the atmosphere and when the silence became too much, she broke it reluctantly. "Say something."

"What do you want me to say?" His voice was quiet and toneless, carefully controlled as he met her stare.

"That you're as happy about this as I am?" This felt wrong, this whole thing, it wasn't going how she'd pictured. She had imagined him being as excited and as happy as she was. "Look, I know it's a shock, out of the blue like this... but this is what we want," she hesitated for a second, watching him, "right?"

He turned away, thankful for the distraction of the food he was making. Watching the steam roll up from the vents in the lid, he tried like hell to think of the right thing to say but there was nothing but a sort of screaming silence in his head.

"We've wanted to have a family for as long as I can remember, Lex. Now we're finally doing it."

"No." The single word came out louder than he'd intended, followed up with nothing but an exhale. He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, trying to keep his emotions in check. Closing his eyes, he leaned against the fridge, unable to get out any other words on the subject. Sure, he was happy but the fear was there, tearing everything else apart.

"No?" She repeated, looking confused and hurt. "This isn't what you want?" It felt as though all of the air had gotten sucked out of the room; she was finding it hard to breathe. "I thought you'd be so excited about this— you love kids and we've always planned on a family. You're acting like I just told you someone died."

He didn't look at her even though he was aware she'd closed the distance between them. Instead he kept squeezing the spoon wrapped in his fist. "Things've changed," he said finally, as though she was pulling the words from him. The fear was there for her to see in his eyes when his gaze lifted to hers, just as the handle of the spoon snapped in his hand. "I know this is all you ever wanted."

"What we wanted," she corrected, "we used to talk about this— you used to make up stories about how our lives were gonna be."

"Han, those were just stories. Make-believe."



"You weren't." Lex's hands shook as he wiped them on his jeans, struggling to keep his voice level. The lie tasted bitter, like ashes— felt like a sort of penance.

"Then why'd you go away?"

He'd expected this question eventually. He'd prepared a thousand answers to all the scenarios in his head— they all fled at that look in her eyes, as if he knew she could see deeper into his core than most. One hand lifted to rub the back of his neck. "It…" a sigh slipped out as he bowed his head. "I was sick. For a long time. I had to go away for a while to get better."

She seemed to accept that, falling silent while she mulled it over.

He let his gaze drift back to the dog, staring at the ball as if trying to will it to drift closer. He understood that desire. He'd been that guy for too many years, existing in his own space, hoping the opportunities would be drawn in like iron filings to a magnet. Now he knew it didn't work that way. He had to create the ripples, had to prick himself to put the blood in the water because the sharks had grown lazy. The whole thing was exhausting. Tedious.

"Daddy?"

The plaintive note in her voice pulled him back to the conversation, sobering as if he'd dove into the water after that bobbing ball. "Yeah?"

"What if you get sick again?"

"I won't."

"But what if you do?"

He didn't know how to answer honestly. He'd never be what was considered 'well'. There were good and bad days. He was just doing his best to make the light outweigh the darkness. "I won't leave, if that's what you mean. Promise. Cross my heart an' hope to die... stick your finger in my eye."

He looked up to see Hannah framed in the doorway, her eyes shining with tears. He didn't have to guess how much she'd heard. A subtle twitch of his head let her know he understood, would talk about it later if she wanted. "C'mon," he got up from the lounger, holding out his hand to Allegra and whistling for the dog. "It's lunchtime. Want me to make grilled cheeses?"

"Yeah!" The little girl and the dog that was big enough for her to ride bounded past Hannah into the kitchen, excited.

Lex's hand slipped around her waist and he leaned in for a kiss. "Gotta have a talk with Bruce about the ideas he's putting into her head." It was easier to deflect blame than accept that this was his own doing. The past was always going to be there, lurking like a ghost in the machine. No matter how much he tried going forward, no matter how loyal and good he was, he'd never outrun that deadbeat status.



"Lucy Sixx. Like Humpty Dumpty, she had a big fall. Found a way to pick up the pieces, made another go of it— what a nice Cinderella story. We've never been formally introduced. I don't recall seein' you at Cecilia's side for that cup of coffee Trinity was, but then I barely recall havin' any sort of interactions with her at all. It was all electronic. Emails. Messages. Dates an' times scheduled, all these demands. But as a professional, I did what I was told. Showed up. Put in the work— sounds good on paper, don't it? My story. Your story. They're a lot alike when you strip down to bases. We've both shattered ourselves for the glory, against the grain. We've both done time in front of those unforgiving, fuckin' UNRELENTING masses who don't give us any respite. We gotta be on. We gotta dazzle every time. It wears me out. Erodes parts of me I never thought I'd miss. All that's left are raw nerves—where'd that thick skin go?"

Sigh.

"I wanna hit you. That's a given, right? Course I do. That's what's expected of me. I just… I feel like I gotta explain why they're gonna be comin' a bit faster, a bit harder this week. I don't quite respect you, but I feel the obligation to be truthful anyhow."

There's a raw chuckle.

"Call yourself Daddy, like that's clever. Like that's a new way to subvert the establishment— I get it. I do. It just gets under my skin somethin' awful. Can't just pluck a name like that from the aether an' roll with it. That's something…"

He's struggling to keep his voice level.

"You fuckin' EARN that title. Anyone can be a role model. Anyone can donate genetic material. Anyone can dominate— whatever the motivation is— I don't give a shit. You don't become a Daddy just 'cause you will it to be so. You gotta shelter. You gotta protect… gotta PROVIDE. My daughter turns six this month an' I didn't feel worthy enough to use that word until fairly recently. An' maybe there's more to it than that. For both of us. For all of us involved in this. Maybe there's shit under the surface I don't see… I'm not capable of understandin' what happens behind closed doors for others. I get that. But for you to waltz back in from your little hiatus, fresh as a daisy an' come at Smith… come at The Architects the way you have? Yeah. I take issue with that. I take issue with you makin' light of something IMPORTANT, like it's a new accessory to your outfit.

When I retire… when this company is nothin' but a footnote in some obscure highlight reel for one of us, I'll still have that. You wanna provide? You wanna shelter Cecilia from the oncoming storm? You're doin' a real shitty job of it, Luce. That's for damned sure."

There's a few seconds of loud breathing that gradually grows quieter and when he speaks again, he's calm.

"Fuckin' hell. I've been away from the so-called real world so long that I feel a little like Neo did when they unplugged him from the Matrix— gaspin' for air as I try to remember how to use my other senses. Doesn't matter 'cause I see you, Lucy. I know who you really are. I see the fear behind that bravado. I see you graspin' at the glory like it's gonna erase the past. You can't wipe that out. It's always gonna be there. It's always gonna cast a pall. What you still haven't figured out is it ain't the trappings you surround yourself with. It ain't championships or the roar of the crowd that define. It's learnin' to OUTSHINE that cloud. You learn to be bright… learn to be bold. You learn to burn it all to the ground an' rise above unscathed—then you can call yourself whatever the fuck you want an' I won't say boo. Until then…"

He pauses, taking a breath while the silence spins out.

"Stay out of our way."