Father Of The Year

(Originally written: January 9, 2019)


“Hey!” I said. “What’s up? Miss the sound of my voice already?”


“What’s up, Izzy?” I frowned. Where was the sass? 

I heard her hesitant breaths over the speaker. Words got caught in her throat and were forcefully swallowed. The ones that made it to her tongue were cut off by a clenched jaw. 

“Take your time, Izzy.” I smiled even though she couldn’t see it. Habit. “I’ll wait.”

“Are you sitting down?” 

“When am I not sitting down?” I laughed nervously as I sat down. “Go ahead.”

“I’m just gonna come out and say it.”


“I’m pregnant.” Izzy began.

I’m so fucked. I don’t even have a job! I have to get a job. Shit it’s going to be hard with school as well… But I have to. That’s the right thing to do. Izzy and I may have broken up but that doesn’t mean our kid has to have a broken life. We’d make it work. She has her shit together and I’m in the process of doing so. And we’ve got so many people that’ll lend a hand! Without pay! God bless family and friends.

I wonder if it’s going to be a boy or a girl? I hope it’s a girl. I’ll love it no matter what it ends up being. But I hope it’s a girl. I don’t know why though. It’s just a gut feeling that I want a daughter. 

Our kid is going to be cute as hell! I hope she has Izzy’s eyes. They’re better than mine. Oh and maybe she’ll have her slight cleft chin. It’s really cute on Izzy and it’ll be a hundred times cuter on our kid. And if she has my smile, she’ll be winning everyone’s heart. She’ll also be really sweet! I’m kind of a shithead but Izzy will be a strong, positive influence. It’ll more than compensate for my personality. 

She’s gonna be so soft and warm and cuddly! And she’ll have that baby smell. Well. She’ll have it when her diaper isn’t full of shit. Speaking of shit. I’m gonna have to change her diaper. Nasty. But Mom said she wasn’t really bothered by changing my diaper and she’s the most squeamish person I know. I can handle it. It’s my kid. Of course I’ll change her diaper. I’ll do anything for her.

Izzy said that when she was a kid she always asked ‘why?’. Anything her parents said or did, they would be forced to explain their choices to their child. Will our kid be like that? I don’t think I’ll have the patience to keep answering. It’ll be nice if she’s like me in that regard. I didn’t ask many questions since I didn’t want to be a bother. I’d find answers on my own instead. 

Will she like reading? Or dancing? It’d be great if she’s the creative type. But if she’s a nerd for computers or something that’d be great too. As long as she finds something that makes her enjoy life. I need to make sure I help her find that passion a lot faster than I found mine. It’ll cost a lot of money to constantly be putting her in classes and stuff, especially if she doesn’t stick to them. Worth the investment in my opinion. Once she finds that special thing (or things!) and gets that smile of contentment on her face, it’ll be worth it. 

It’ll all be worth it for that smile alone. Finishing my degree while working any job I can get, sacrificing my social life so I can be present in my kid’s life, and ignoring the stigma of having a kid out of wedlock. Who cares that my kid was an accident? She will be a lot better than a lot of the children that parents have on purpose. 

If Izzy and I were still a couple we could move in together. That way I wouldn’t have to be away from the kid for too long, only getting to see her when it was my turn to take care of her. That’s going to hurt a lot. I don’t know how much. But I know that each time I drop her off at her mom’s house, it’ll be like my heart is being curb-stomped. 

“I’m getting an abortion.” Izzy continued. 

“Oh. Uh. Okay.” I smile again. Habit. 

“Henry I’m sorry. I know I should have told you in person. I just…”

“Hey, hey!” I interrupted her gently. “It’s fine. I get it. No need to explain.”

“I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry too. I thought. “Goodbye, Izzy.”

“Goodbye, Henry.”

I hung up and tossed my phone on the bed. I followed seconds later, face planting in between two pillows. 

Goodnight, kiddo.