Dad...

The main reason why a 'Daughter' needs a 'Dad' is to show her that not all the boys are like the ones that hurt her.  ~unknown

 

I had been at my friends house for a couple weeks, when my Dad came over and said it was time to come home. Home to my own bed, home to my art supplies, and music. Home to where nothing was the way it was before. But, my Dad came and got me, which meant that my Dad was on my side.
 

It was decided that there would be a meeting of the two sets of parents, my sweetheart and my self. That meeting was going to take place around our kitchen table. The two sets of parents sitting directly across from each other, my sweetheart at one end of the table and I at the other. You could feel the uncomfortable tension around that table. And the discussion began. What exactly was the plan for our future, what should or shouldn't be done. My sweetheart remained completely silent the entire time we were all together with his head down, with my head down also all I could do was cry. They talked back and forth as if we were not at the table. My father was of the mind set that we all needed to find the right solution for this situation. And then the heat entered the room. I listened as did my parents as his parents said that I had led him down a BAD path. That somehow everything was my fault, that their son was going to college. And well, quite honestly my parents would have to deal with their daughter whatever way that they saw fit. That their son would no longer be involved with me and he would be signing off on any parental obligation that he might have, if indeed this was his child. Now, my father was a big man, not only tall but full of girth, and he had a temper too. But when they said "if it was really his child", my father stood up and calmly said that he thought we were done and that anything else would be handled between lawyers...and it was. He did not lose his cool, but rather he just dismissed them. I will never forget him coming to my defense in such a composed manner, when I am sure he just wanted to hit him or tell them off before he threw them out of our house. After that meeting my sweetheart and I hardly ever had a nice conversation or meeting again. He wouldn't take me to prom, he even had a little flirty kiss with one of my very good friends. He would run, hide and turn away from me whenever he could. I remember screaming, swearing, hitting and begging him to come and see me, to talk with me. For as naive as it sounds now, I still was holding on to the happily ever after fairy tale. The physical attraction, the intimacy, the chemistry that we had complicated things. It was like we were magnets in conflict with like poles either repelling each other or different poles attracting. After graduation we had virtually little  to no contact, and if we were somehow in each others company it always ended badly. My visible pregnancy was a reminder of how bad he thought things had become for him. He sought all kinds of escapes  and distractions that summer for himself, he drank, he dated and he partied. I on the other hand stayed close to home.
 

I started having cravings, and one of them was steamed clams. My Dad would take me out and let me eat one dozen after another. Good brain food for the baby we both would say. By July there still was no clear plan as to what was going to happen. It was as if no one wanted to talk about it, certainly I didn't want to talk about it. I was loving being pregnant. The morning sickness had passed and I felt really good and I was extremely happy carrying a baby, this baby that I still felt was a product of love. But in five months the baby was going to be here and there just wasn't a plan. My Mother never talked about it, she seemed detached and indifferent toward me. My Dad was the one who was always asking me how I felt, did I need anything, or could he do something for me.

My Dad became the second "white knight" that came to my rescue with  loving care and concern.