Shit. “Oh yeah? Like what about them?” I’m sure she was taught that there are two biological parents to a child and then each biological parent has their set of biological parents, but Parker—her tree was cut down and replanted somewhere else.
“Well, I knew about Mom, but—never mind.”
I’m thankful we’re pulling into the driveway so we can continue this conversation face to face, inside. I’ve done my best to be upfront with Parker about everything in her life. Some facts need to be retold from year to year as she grows and has a broader understanding of her reality, but it doesn’t become any less painful for me to talk to her.
I help her out of the truck, her neon green tutu blowing into her face as she hops down from the truck. I snag her backpack from the floor mat as she continues toward the front door with the book held up in front of her face.
“Park, you’re going to trip. We’ve talked about this.”
She releases one hand from the book, letting it fall by her side, her head following in suit. I’m sure she is rolling her eyes at me, which has become one of the newest joys of raising a seven-year-old girl.
Once we’re inside, it’s clear she has plans to leave our conversation where it was, and close herself into her bedroom. “Hold it,” I tell her.
“I just want to finish this chapter, Dad,” she whines.
“Sit down on the couch first.”
She huffs and puffs, stomps her high-top black chucks over to the couch and plops down, keeping her book clenched between her grip.
I sit on the coffee table, facing her, and rest my arms on my legs. “What happened with the family tree at school?”
She won’t look at me. Her long-curled pigtails are hanging in front of her face as she does what she can to avoid answering. “You’re not my biological dad,” she says. “I don’t know who he is, but my teacher instructed us to write the name down. I left the line blank, making it look like I only have a mom, but I don’t have her either. I was the only one in class who didn’t have either of my biological parents.”
Her words hit me in my gut. Every time she questions this topic, we have to speak about it, but it’s a fresh wound being sliced down the core of my chest each time. “I’m not your biological dad, and we don’t have the same kind of blood, but Parker, I was there the day you were born, and I haven’t left your side since.”
“Why?” she asks, gazing up at me with her big blue eyes.
“Why? Because your mom was my very best friend, and I was just as excited as she was the day you were born. I knew I wasn’t your biological dad then, but it didn’t matter to me. I loved you then and I’ll love you forever. To me, that’s more important than anything to do with biology.”
I’m not sure she understands what I’m trying to tell her. The look on her face has changed very little, but she’s still looking into my eyes with curiosity. “How come I’m not normal?”
“Because, you’re unique and special, one-of-a-kind, and you were placed on this earth to be my daughter.”
Parker folds her hands over her book and swallows a lump in her throat. “If Mom didn’t go away forever, would you still be my dad now?” It’s a question that I often wonder about. I couldn’t answer this then and I can’t answer it now because I don’t know what the future might have held. I lived with Abby because she was my family, being so far away from home. Parker became an instant part of my life and there was nothing normal about our living situation because there was no romance between Abby and me, but we loved each other and we both loved Parker. Some situations don’t come with expectations or explanations, I guess.
“Yes, I’d still be your dad. Nothing could make me walk away from you, even if Mom was still here.” Whether life took us in a different direction or not, Parker needs to know I am where I’m meant to be.
“Aren’t people supposed to get married though?” she asks. God, I wish the teacher warned the parents about this family tree lesson. There are many different types of families that don’t fit into a stereotypical box.
“Some people get married and others don’t. Some people have children together, and some never have children. And then there are people who adopt, and win the kid lottery. A lot of people go their entire life wishing they could have everything someone else either wanted or didn’t want. But you know what? It doesn’t matter because you’re stuck with me forever, like it or not.”
Parker’s lips hint at a slight smile as she nods her head with understanding. “Sorry if I made you sad. It’s just confusing sometimes, and it embarrassed me today.”
I switch seats, moving next to her on the couch and wrap my arm around her shoulders. “You have nothing to be sorry about. We’re in this together, and just because we aren't a typical family, doesn’t mean we aren’t the luckiest.”
Parker rests her head against my chest and sighs with a sound of relief. “You’re right,” she says. “I’m glad you’re my dad.”
“I can’t imagine my life without you, sweetheart. You never need to question the realness between us, okay?”
A pigtail flops against my nose as she nods again. “Okay.”
“Go wash up and I’ll make you a snack.” I kiss the side of her head and she hops up from the couch with a little more enthusiasm than when she first sat down. I never know if my talks will help her, but I hope more than anything I’m doing something right. I’m slightly blind, navigating down this rocky road.
I rest my head back for the minute she’s upstairs, feeling my phone vibrate in my coat pocket. I pull it out and check the display, finding a friend request from the one and only Melody Quinn I know. I wonder if she received some random alert that I was looking her up on this thing. That’s weird. Maybe it’s a coincidence. I hope it is.
I don’t want her to think I’m sitting with my phone waiting for notifications to pop up, so I’ll accept the request a little later. Does this cat-and-mouse game end at any age, or do men and women continue to play hard to get until the chase is over? I don’t even know what the rules are anymore. God knows, I’d be known as a social creep if I accepted a request within thirty seconds, but I’d be a jerk if I let it go a full day too.
I shouldn’t be concerned about a friend request of all things, yet, here I am, staring at Melody’s beautiful photo while Parker stands in front of me waiting for the snack I promised. “Who’s that?” Parker asks.
