“What do you mean? I live here,” I grin and open the fridge. I was working so hard in the lab today. I forgot to eat lunch. My stomach rumbles.
Faylor bounces into the kitchen, hopping up on the counter. “Duh. But you said you were going out after work. I thought I’d have the house to myself for a while.”
I step away from the fridge, swivel until I’m staring her straight in the eye. “Why would you need the house to yourself.”
Faylor shrugs. “No reason.”
She won’t look me in the eye. Ah, yes. The tell-tale sign of lying.
Did I learn that working at Saber Security? Nope.
I learned that from raising a child all by myself. A child thatdefinitelycaught the evasive DNA from her mom.
“Faylor.” It’s not a question. I don’t threaten her. It’s just her name. I don’t even have to roll out the middle name because she falls apart faster than sugar in hot water.
She rolls her eyes and hops back down to the floor. “God, Rand! Why do you have to be like this!”
I tilt my head at her. “This? You mean - parental?”
“Controlling. Overbearing. Bossy. Imperious. High-handed. Oppressive. Tyrannical!”
“I knew I’d regret getting you the Word of the Day calendar.”
Faylor grunt-shouts again, throws up her hands, and stomps back to her room.
I chuckle, knowing that I thwarted something this evening. I don’t even know what it is. But I know she was up to no good.
Sadness sweeps over me in a wave. I rub my eyes. Faylor reminds me so much of her mom. It hurts sometimes. I miss Faye. I wonder what she would think about the way I’m raising her daughter.
But, a single dad doesn’t have the luxury of reflection. He has to get his shit together and cock block any teenage motherfucker who tries to deflower his daughter. Plus, you know. Dinner.
It’s not a long to-do list but an important one.
I pull ingredients out of the fridge and whip up chicken lettuce wraps better than P.F. Chang’s - Faylor’s favorite.
Yes, I’m bribing her with food. But it works like a charm every time.
She’s a good kid. Just hormonal.
When Faylor began puberty and got her period, no one was around to help me with it. My mom was long gone. I didn’t have any women friends. But, I did have research.Research is my jam! I might have gone a little overboard, buying all the feminine hygiene products in the drug store. Upside? We didn’t have to buy tampons or pads for at least two years.
When I was shopping, one thing that perplexed me was that condoms were in the “feminine hygiene” section. Why were condoms there? Did the drug store chain think birth control was solely a woman’s responsibility? Or did they know men can be utter dogs and often forget about this? Either way, I wrote no fewer than 100 sternly-worded letters to the company’s president about my displeasure at this and wondering what it was telling teenage girls about their future.
I think the store reworked their floor plan to get me to stop complaining. I didn’t care why. I was glad they did it.
It’s surprising how having a teenage daughter will change your view of the world.
I hear the creak of a door and shuffling feet behind me as I plate the lettuce wraps.
“Lettuce wraps?”
I throw a smile at Faylor over my shoulder. “Yep.”
“I thought you were mad at me.”
I place the plates on the island and take a seat. “Nope.”
She crosses her arms and scowls at me.
