Mack Daddy

  Mack didn’t even try to argue with her assertion of hate. He simply said, “Have a nice day, Torrie.”

  Torrie stayed true to her word. Mack and I would pick Jonah up from school every day and bring him back to our place until she got home from work.

  As I looked for teaching jobs in the area, I started to think that maybe my time was better spent helping to take care of Jonah so that Mack could concentrate on work and didn’t have to hire help. Even though Jonah was in school most of the day, being out of work made it possible to pick him up in the afternoons. He hated the bus, and we didn’t force him to take it.

  Since I’d moved in, we’d noticed that Jonah’s behaviors had worsened. He seemed more withdrawn and anxious, which was strange, since he’d probably never had more attention.

  I’d always seen a lot of my younger self in him, but one afternoon, I discovered something that really proved how true that was.

  Cleaning his room while he was in school one day, I came across a notebook hidden under his bed. I opened it and found the same two sentences written over and over in Jonah’s handwriting.

  I will not kill my dad.

  I’m a good person.

  I wasn’t sure what to think at first. I was afraid to go to Mack and more afraid of Jonah’s reaction if he found out that I had. I decided that I was going to take Jonah for a ride after school so that we could discuss it before telling his father. I didn’t think Mack would handle this very well. He was such a strong person, but when it came to his son, he worried a lot and often felt helpless.

  That afternoon, Jonah sat quietly in the backseat of my RAV4. He was looking out the window as I drove us to a playground near our apartment.

  When we arrived, I asked him to join me on a bench that overlooked the wooden jungle gym. The sun was shining into his hazel eyes.

  “So, I found something in your room today, and before I show it to you, I want you to know that I have not told your dad. This is just between you and me for now. I also want you to know that you can tell me absolutely anything, and I will never ever judge you. Sometimes, it’s nice to have someone to talk to besides our parents, someone we can open up to. I want to be that person for you, Jonah. Okay?”

  Fear filled his eyes as I took his notebook out of my bag.

  “I found this notebook in your room.” When he began to tremble, I took his hand in mine. “Everything is going to be fine, but I want you to tell me why you wrote these two sentences repeatedly.”

  A tear fell down his cheek. This was painful, but I knew it had to be done.

  “It’s okay. Take all the time you need. I only want to help you.”

  He finally looked at me and said, “Please don’t tell my dad. Please.”

  “Your daddy loves you, Jonah. There is nothing you can ever say, do, or think that will change that.”

  After a long silence, he admitted, “I have these scary thoughts. I can’t stop them.” He closed his eyelids tightly to ward off more tears.

  “How long have you had them?”

  “For a long time.”

  “As long as I’ve known you?”

  He nodded yes.

  “Tell me about them.”

  “Sometimes, I can see myself hurting my dad, sometimes it’s my mom, but mostly Dad.”

  “You know thoughts are just thoughts, right? They don’t mean anything.”

  “I hate them. I’m afraid.” The look of fear on his face was palpable.

  A light bulb went off in my mind. This sounded awfully familiar.

  “When you get the thoughts…what do you do?”

  “I have to go over them in my head over and over until I feel better…until I know I won’t do it. Then, they come back worse, and I have to do the same thing. It never stops.”

  “Jonah…I know this is going to sound strange, but I think we were meant to meet, that I was meant to be in your life.”

  “Why?”

  “This is a lot like the same thing that used to happen to me when I was your age. It’s called OCD.”

  “OCD?”

  I had to stop myself to think about how to best explain it to him. While I wasn’t a doctor and couldn’t diagnose him, I suspected what Jonah was suffering from was a case of really bad intrusive thoughts, otherwise known as Pure O—the very same thing I suffered with for years. He was performing never-ending mental rituals to ease his fear.

  “When I was younger, I used to have visions of stabbing my grandmother. She used to watch me while my mother worked. Deep down, I knew I would never do that, but the thoughts scared me. The more they scared me, the more they would reappear.”

  “You never hurt your grandmother?”

  “No. No, I didn’t. But you know what? These thoughts…they tend to focus on the people you love the most. So, if you’re having them about your dad, then that’s probably why.”

  “How do you make them stop?”

  “That’s the thing. You really can’t make them stop. You have to accept that they are just thoughts. As long as they scare you, and as long as you focus on them, they will always be there. But if you recognize them for what they are…just junk that your imagination comes up with…they eventually stop bothering you.”

  “What do I do when I get one?”

  “You stop, and you say, ‘Okay, here are those thoughts again. I know they’re just thoughts. I’m gonna let them be there and go play something I enjoy or have a snack.’”

  “That sounds really hard.”

  “It is…at first. But it takes time and practice. I’m gonna get you help, okay? You need to let me tell your dad, though.”

  He suddenly placed his little hand on my knee. “No, you can’t!”

  “I promise he’ll understand. His insurance might be able to pay for a special doctor who will help you understand that what you have is OCD and doesn’t mean anything bad. The doctor will do exercises with you that help you deal with this.”

  “That’s what you did?”

  “Yes. I went to a specialist who helped me. He saw people every day with the same exact scary thoughts that we have. And I promise you, Jonah, it will get better. You can learn to live with it. You should never be ashamed to tell me anything, okay?”

  After a long pause, he said, “Okay, Frankie Four Eyes.”

  When he smiled, it warmed my heart. I knew the pain and suffering he must have been enduring in keeping this to himself. Between his eyesight and OCD, Jonah truly reminded me of my younger self. Forget teaching, I felt my place right now was to help this little boy come out of his own mind.

  I had no doubt that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

  We had taken Jonah to a professional who’d officially diagnosed him with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. The doctor described it as a thinking disease that feeds on self-doubt.

  Apparently, my son had been suffering from it for at least a couple of years. The OCD, in conjunction with his generalized anxiety, had been making his life a living hell.

  We had no way of knowing about the scary thoughts inside of his head. If it weren’t for Frankie, we probably wouldn’t have discovered it at all. I’d always known that her presence in my life was a blessing, but I could never repay her for what she did for my son. Even though he still struggled with his OCD, Jonah no longer felt ashamed.

  My house in Massachusetts had finally sold. We’d just moved out of the apartment and into a brand new townhouse in Alexandria. Surrounded by boxes, our lives seemed to be in chaos. But despite the physical clutter, I’d never felt more at peace.

  Frankie was getting dressed for our first night out since the move. She was looking at herself in the full-length mirror and had no idea I’d been watching her. She turned around to look at her ass in the dress, and all I could think about was how I couldn’t wait to see that beautiful body pregnant with my baby some day. Experiencing that with her would seem like going through it for the first time, since I’d been in denial up until Jonah’s birth. I couldn’t wait to experience lif
e with her and continued to be so grateful for the second chance.

  “I really want to knock you up.”

  Startled, she shook at the sound of my voice.

  “Well, I can’t say anyone else has ever greeted me that way before.”

  “Did I say that out loud?”

  “You didn’t mean to?”

  Wrapping my arms around her from the back, I said, “I was just thinking about how much I love you and how badly I want us to have our own baby someday.”

  “Someday…or now?”

  “I would knock you up now if you’d let me.”

  Frankie turned around to face me. “Really?”

  “Why does that surprise you?”

  “I don’t know. We’ve never discussed it. I guess, I just always assumed that you wanted to focus on Jonah for a while.”

  “That will always be the case, won’t it? There’s nothing more that I want in this world than to make a little human with you. I think a baby would be exactly the glue that this broken family needs right now. A sibling might also give Jonah something positive to focus on. But I would never expect you to agree to it until you’re ready, whether that’s next year or five years from now. I was just thinking out loud.” I kissed her on the forehead. “You look shocked.”

  “Actually…this might sound crazy, but lately, I’ve been thinking about how much I really want a baby with you, too. I was afraid to tell you how badly I wanted it, because I’d assumed it was too soon.”

  “Don’t ever be afraid to ask me for what you want. Chances are, I’ll want it even more, especially if it makes you happy. And especially if the process to get there involves lots of sex with you.” I looped by finger under the strap of her dress. “So, should we get started, then?”

  “Isn’t this a little ass backwards?” She laughed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Shouldn’t we get engaged first or something?”

  “Oh…sure.” My heart started to pound as I reached into my back pocket. “Hang on.” I took out the small velvet pouch I’d been carrying around with me every day for weeks.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  “It is, Frankie. I’m not gonna be pulling a pendant out. That would suck.”

  Her eyes widened. “You were going to propose tonight?”

  “Not sure. I’ve carried it around every day in case the right moment comes up.”

  “Now? Now is the right moment?”

  “You just told me you’re gonna let me knock you up. I would say the right moment was probably a year ago. I’m late.”

  She covered her mouth in shock. “Oh, my God. Is this really happening?”

  Getting down on one knee, I looked up at her. “Frankie Jane…thank you for giving me joy. You were the first person to ever bring it into my life. True joy left me when we were apart. But it’s back. Will you marry me and let me knock you up…whichever comes first?”

  She waved her hands in excitement. “Yes!!”

  After I slipped the one-and-a-half carat diamond on her finger, she looked down at her hand and shook her head in apparent disbelief. “Part one and part two are a lot different, aren’t they?”

  Looping her fingers in mine, I said, “What are you talking about?”

  “I feel like our relationship can be divided into two parts. Our time in college is like part one. It was fun and about self-discovery. It was even innocent…aside from the fact that you had a girlfriend. Part two has been challenging. We had to reacquaint ourselves with each other to find that old connection again but also had to deal with new obstacles.”

  “You chose the more difficult road when you picked me. That’s for sure.”

  “Sometimes, the more difficult road leads to the greatest destination. Part two is a lot harder, but the rewards have been greater than I could’ve ever imagined. Easier isn’t always better. I would choose part two with you and Jonah any day.”

  I suddenly lifted her up and carried her over to the bed.

  “What are you doing?” She laughed.

  “I’d like to get started on part three.”

  ONE YEAR LATER

  I couldn’t sleep for shit. The excitement of what was going to be happening tomorrow was keeping me up. I impulsively grabbed a pen and paper from my nightstand and began writing something that I’d been debating for a while.

  Dear Freddie,

  You don’t know me, and I’m not even going to tell you my name. But I’ve felt compelled to write you for a very long time now.

  I know that you know you have a daughter. What you likely don’t know is the kind of person she is or what’s become of her. Your daughter is a beautiful human being and the woman I love. You might be wondering how someone good and kindhearted could have come from you. I anticipate you have had a lot of time over the years to think about your past actions, and maybe you regret everything you did in your youth. Maybe you don’t. But, in any case, I’m writing to let you know that you did do one thing right in your life; you brought a selfless, compassionate person into this world.

  Your daughter grew up thinking that her father abandoned her, that you didn’t want her. I know the truth wasn’t as simple as that. You were young and got yourself into some shit that you can never take back. She knows now. She was recently told the story about you, and even though she’s decided not to meet you, she’s come to terms with it. My almost nine-year-old son had asked her a long time ago whether she forgave you. That was before she knew the truth. At the time, she told him she needed to get back to him on that question. Last night, she fulfilled her promise to him. She told him that, even though her father had made some mistakes, she did forgive him and used it as a lesson to teach my son forgiveness. She’s a better person than I am, because I’m still working on forgiving my own father for his indiscretions. Anyway, I thought that maybe knowing this might help you sleep better at night, whether you think you deserve that forgiveness or not.

  As I sit here writing this, I’m preparing to marry her tomorrow in a small ceremony with just our closest family and friends. You won’t be there to walk her down the aisle. Instead, she’s going to be walking toward me alone. That’s her choice and representative of the strong, independent spirit she’s always had.

  I’m not sure if writing this letter is a mistake or not. I’m not even sure what has prompted me to write you tonight. Maybe it’s because, as a father, I truly understand that no matter how many times we fuck up, the one constant is our love for our children.

  I want you to know that you don’t need to worry about your daughter’s well-being. She will always be taken care of and will never want for anything ever again—especially love from a man.

  Take care of yourself, and I hope this letter brings you even an ounce of the peace that your daughter has brought to me.

  Sincerely, M.M.

  THREE YEARS LATER

  “Remember those stories you used to tell…the ones about Frankie? How come you don’t write those anymore?”

  I love that my son called her Frankie, too.

  “I guess real life is more exciting than any adventures that Frankie Four Eyes could possibly have. Frankie Four Eyes married Mackenzie Magic, and they lived happily ever after. The End.”

  “You should dig them up and read them to Joy when she can understand,” Jonah said.

  “That’s a good idea. Maybe we can bring them back when she’s old enough to comprehend.”

  Despite my having boasted about my plans to knock Frankie up, it took us a while to actually conceive. I was scared that it wouldn’t be in the cards for us. But our little miracle was born a little over two years after we got married.

  I’d always dreamt that I’d have a daughter with the same red hair as her mother. Turned out, my beautiful baby girl was meant to look just like me instead. She did have Frankie’s pudgy nose, though. It made me laugh to see my wife’s cute nose on a little human who otherwise looked like me. It was like our own special version of Face Swap.

/>   Joy Elena had just turned one and was starting to walk. Jonah was holding his sister’s hands and stood behind her to make sure she wouldn’t fall. Having a little sister to watch over and protect had given my son a new purpose and helped take his mind off of himself. Jonah still struggled with his anxiety disorder but had made a lot of progress in the past few years.

  I’d come up with the name Joy for obvious reasons. I would always thank Frankie for bringing Joy into my life, and having our daughter gave new meaning to that. Her middle name, Elena, was after Mrs. Migillicutty, who’d passed away suddenly around the time Joy was born. My former neighbor had elected to have her ashes distributed amongst the various people she cared about. Some time after her death, we received a notice from her family that we were one of the recipients of some of those ashes. When the small urn was delivered to our house, it was clear that even in death, Mrs. M. could manage to make us laugh. There was a note included that said, Keep me somewhere at the bar. Just don’t mistake me for margarita salt. We decided to keep her ashes inside a bottle of her favorite rum in a special spot.

  On this particular night, I was in my glory. I had my wife, mother, son, and daughter with me. We were celebrating Joy’s first birthday. Earlier, we’d watched as she smashed her little chubby hand repeatedly into her very own special cake, making a huge mess.

  Frankie was loving being a stay-at-home mother. Even though she never returned to teaching full-time, she tutored on the side in the evenings and planned to go back to graduate school eventually to become an OCD therapist.

  We were still estranged from my father, who’d just been re-elected to public office. While his political career thrived, his personal life remained a mess as we continued to live our lives separated from him. To the best of my knowledge, he’d followed through with all of his promises, including discreetly seeking therapy. Torrie still worked for him, but overall, my relationship with her had turned into a cordial but distant one. After the intervention at my father’s office, the question of Jonah’s paternity was never brought up again.