A few days before Christmas a six year old girl accidentally finds her father a boyfriend.
Author: Allison Wonderland
Summary: Christmas story. A six-year-old girl accidentally gives her father a boyfriend for Christmas.
Warning(s): Cuteness, slash, language.
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it’s not mine. However, I doubt there’s going to be much in here that’s recognizable.
Note(s): I started this like two years ago but I just found it when I was cleaning out some old files a few days ago.
My daddy was gay. Is gay. Whatever. The point I’m trying to make is that he doesn’t like women – or girls either, come to think of it – in that way. Needless to say, he has never had sex with anyone with female body parts. Except once.
And that’s where I come into the story.
My name is Fiona. I’m seventeen years old and a senior at Shady Lake Academy, the only private high school in the small town of Shady Lake, Virginia where I’ve lived all my life. But when the story I want to tell took place, I was only six. I was born when my daddy was only fifteen. My birth was an accident, a fact that my grandparents made me aware of the second I was old enough to understand. They had high hopes for my father, private schools until he graduated from Shady Lake Academy then on to Harvard and a law degree. My father had other plans. They did not include me of course but neither were they the same as his parents’. He had his heart set on a journalism degree and a job at a travel magazine that would allow him to traipse around Europe and get paid for it.
But since a few months after his twelfth birthday my daddy had been noticing boys the way other boys noticed girls. He knew the difference between gay and straight and by the time he turned thirteen he was pretty sure he was gay. Being gay did not fit into his parents’ plans for him nor his plans for himself because both plans eventually involved marriage and children. So he kept that little fact to himself and denied it as well as he could. It was easy at first because no one suspected. Then one night just before he started tenth grade at the same school I’ll be graduating from in the spring my daddy got a girl – his best friend’s older sister – pregnant.
The story he told me was that they were at an end of summer party at someone’s house where the parents weren’t home. There was alcohol, courtesy of the liquor cabinet, and everyone was somewhat intoxicated and my daddy ended up kissing a boy. The boy, whose name my daddy claimed he didn’t remember anymore when he told me the story, was receptive but my daddy freaked out because it was his first kiss with a boy, never mind with one he really liked. Because he was so freaked out he wanted to prove to himself – and probably everyone else as well – that he had no interest in boys that way. He ended up having sex with his best friend’s sixteen-year-old sister.
Nothing came of it until three months later when her parents called his parents with the news that she was pregnant. There was a lot of talking between my four grandparents, talking my daddy and Anastasia – my mother – were excluded from. Anastasia’s parents were of the opinion that abortion was immoral and refused to even consider the option. They were also against adoption for reasons my daddy never told me, if he even knew himself. But finally my grandparents came to a conclusion that satisfied all of them. Anastasia’s punishment was that she would not terminate the pregnancy, her medical bills paid for out of her trust fund, and she would go to a community college instead of Yale and directly from there into an arranged marriage with no mention made of the baby. My father’s punishment was being stuck with the baby, since Anastasia’s parents considered it his fault that their daughter was pregnant in the first place.
Most parents, when telling their child the events of her birth, would tell her that they looked forward to having her from the moment they learned of her impending birth, even if that was not the truth. Not my daddy. He told me all the details of how he planned to leave me on the steps of a church like everyone in the movies seemed to do, steal all the cash from the safe in his father’s study, and run off to California. Fortunately, he also told me what really happened when I was born on Christmas day in 1991 and how when the nurse laid a pink-blanket wrapped baby – me of course, born an entire month too early but completely healthy none the less – in his arms all thoughts of churches, safes, and California completely left his head and he knew, even at only fifteen years old, that from that day forward his life would revolve around me.