K Webster

To the naughty man who taught this girl everything she knows.

I love you, Mr. Webster.

the naughty man who taught this girl everything she knows.

I love you, Mr. Webster.

can babysit the kid for a night,” I tell him, “but you only need what? Three minutes?”

“Fuck off, gimp,” he jokes.

“We’ll get her straightened out,” I vow. “I promise.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

Money has made him a bit of a diva.

“So don’t resist.” Another moan. “Just see where it takes us.”

It’ll take me straight to the unemployment agency.

The moment I burst from Adam’s office, I meet the icy stare of Miss Bowden.

She knows.

Ugh, she knows.

The moment I burst from Adam’s office, I meet the icy stare of Miss Bowden.

She knows.

Ugh, she knows.

“Promise you’ll always talk to me, Daddy,” she begs tearfully. “Even when you’re so sad or angry. Don’t leave me alone.”

More tears roll out of my eyes and soak her hair. I cry so hard that I can’t formulate words. All I can do is nod. Kiss her head and nod. She holds out her pinky and I hook mine with hers.

A pinky promise is what she calls this.

I vow to talk to her and love her even during the darkest of times. Although, I’m not really sure how life can get any darker than this.

You could lose your other child, the dark, menacing monster in my head growls.

I squeeze her tighter.

Nod.

Kiss.

Nod again.

“I promise.” My words are a faint whisper but she hears. She always hears.

“I love you, Daddy.”

Nod.

Kiss.

Nod again.

“I love you too, Pip.”

I’ll be goddamned if I let anything happen to this kid too.

“According to data compiled by the Wildlife Land and Water Coalition, people are forty-five times more likely to be killed by a dog than by a bear, one hundred and twenty times more likely to be killed by bees than a bear, and an incredible two hundred and fifty times more likely to be killed by lightning than a bear,” Devon chirps from behind me, her long skinny leg stretched out to nudge me in the arm to get my attention.

Our eyes meet in the mirror and I laugh. This girl and her useless facts. “Too bad we stocked up on bear spray then, huh?” I tease.

Her eyes are hidden behind her sunglasses that are similar to her mother’s but her smile is wide and carefree. At sixteen, she’s brilliant and full of life. “How many bears you think we’ll see, Dad? One a month? Two a month? One a week?”

Sabrina tenses from her seat. She was cool with every part of this move. The bears have her scared shitless though. I vowed I wouldn’t let her get killed by a bear.

“A buddy of mine who did a sabbatical in the Alaskan wilderness said he saw several a day. They’re plentiful in these parts.” I grin at her in the mirror. “But that’s why God made guns.”

“Dad!” Devon complains. “Don’t shoot any bears.”