Renting a Father for Ten Dollars

Ever since my mother lost my baby brother to a late-term miscarriage, and my father chose to spend his nights comforting his former classmate in her quiet suburban townhouse, I had been cutting him out of our family photos.

The school called my mother one afternoon. My teacher had overheard me telling my desk mate that my father was gone, that I wanted his father instead. My mother froze over the receiver. When she finally spoke, her voice was a hollow whisper.

Yes, she told the teacher. He passed away early.

During the school's father-daughter field day, my mother watched from the sidelines as I handed a crumpled ten-dollar bill to Mr. Higgins, the school security guard, asking him to play my dad for just one afternoon. She didnt scold me. Instead, she quietly slipped a two-hundred-dollar bill into his palm so he would stay and walk me through the parent-teacher conference afterward.

Whenever a fathers presence was required, my mother simply let me buy one.

Then, my father suddenly realized he hadnt heard from us in a long time. He canceled all his meetings and showed up to pick me up from school, only to be turned away by a frowning teacher who didn't recognize him.

Confused, he came home. The moment he stepped through the door, he heard me speaking to Mr. Henderson, our building superintendent.

My dad died, I was saying. Do you want to be my new dad?

The living room wall was covered in framed photographs of my childhood victories, but the man standing beside my mother and me in every single one was a stranger.

Nydia, who the hell is this man standing next to you?

My fathers voice was so cold it felt like ice against my skin. His eyes were burning holes into the frame. I didnt understand why he was so angry. I stood there, shifting on my feet, desperately trying to think of an explanation.

Mr. Henderson wiped the sweat from his forehead. Kiddo, what are you talking about? Your dad is standing right here! He offered a tense, awkward smile and hurried out of the apartment.

My fathers mouth twitched with rage. He was holding a bakery box, completely unaware that the cake inside had slipped and smashed against the hardwood floor.

Ive only been gone for two months, and youve already told everyone Im dead? His chest heaved. Is this how you raise our daughter, Nydia?

Terrified, I rushed forward to shield my mother. No one taught me! Don't blame Mommy. I said it myself!

His face went entirely dark. He reached up to tear the frames off the wall, ready to smash them, but his hand froze when he read the gold lettering on the certificates. His grip slackened, and he looked at me with a complicated, unreadable expression.

I held my breath, waiting for the storm.

He didnt know that two months ago, when he died to us in Cassandras townhouse, my mother had already paid several men to stand in his place for my competitions.

Hearing the noise, my mother emerged from the bedroom.

In just two months, she had withered away. Her eyes were hollow, her steps unsteady, her clothes hanging off a frame that looked like nothing but fragile glass. But she didn't scream. She didn't cry or threaten him with a knife, demanding he choose between her and his mentor's daughter.

She just stared at him with an icy, absolute indifference.

The anger in my fathers eyes sputtered out, replaced by a sudden, guilty swallow. He reached into his leather bag and pulled out a sleek, expensive camera, holding it out to her like a peace offering.

Nydia, look. Its the new model youve wanted forever. And I know you want to get back into your photography, so I went ahead and submitted your old portfolio to the international gallery showcase.

My mother looked at the box. Her face remained a perfect, flat slate. There was no joy, no rush of relief.

I recognized that camera. It was the one she had kept in her online shopping cart for two years. To save money for our household expenses, she had never bought it. When she finally brought herself to ask him for it, he had brushed her off, time and time again.

He didn't know that his gift was already outdated. She had saved up and bought the latest release herself.

Sensing her coldness, my fathers brow furrowed. He sighed, gently taking her hand and placing the camera in her palm, his voice softening into that old, patronizing warmth.

Alright, sweetheart. Its my fault. I know youve been fragile since the miscarriage, and I shouldnt have raised my voice. But I promise you, Cassandras situation is almost sorted out. Just give me a little more time...

Time.

I clenched my small fists, my heart aching for my mother.

For two months, he had been a liar. He had made that exact promise fifty-two times, and not once had he kept it. My mother had waited for him until she lost the baby, until her clinical depression spiraled into self-harm. She had waited until she was covered in scars, and still, he had not come home.

Instead, he had always snapped at her: Nydia, I told you, shes my late mentors daughter. Were practically family. Why do you have to make everything a scene?

Suddenly, his phone blared.

He answered it quickly, and the speakerphone carried the shrill, terrified wail of a little girl.

Daddy! Come back quick! Mommys head is so hot, and shes lying on the floor and wont get up!

Then came Cassandras weak, breathless voice in the background: Why did you call him, Zoe? We cant keep bothering him...

My blood boiled. I wanted to scream. He isn't your daddy! Hes my daddy!

But my fathers eyes instantly welled with tears. His voice trembled. Cassie, what are you saying? I want you to bother me for the rest of my life.

He tossed the camera carelessly onto the bed. Nydia, Cassies exhausted. I have to go check on them. Ill come back and explain later.

He ran out the door, his keys jangling in his frantic grip.

My mother and I stood in the silence, staring at the empty doorway. We both knew he wouldn't be back tonight.

My mother picked up the camera. She turned it on and scrolled through the internal storage. There, saved on the memory card, were dozens of photos of my father, Cassandra, and Zoe.

I saw the dates. On the day my mother was in the hospital losing my baby brother, my father was riding the Ferris wheel with them. On the night my mother's depression peaked and she was admitted for severe hemorrhaging, my father was holding Zoe up to watch the New Year's Eve fireworks.

A sharp pain pierced my chest. I began to cry.

My father had plenty of time. He just chose never to give it to us.

My mother was shaking violently. She pulled me into her arms, her voice raspy but entirely resolute.

Maisie, your father is dead. Right?

I nodded quickly, clutching her shirt.

Something shifted in her eyes. She picked up the expensive camera and hurled it against the brick wall with all her might.

It shattered into a hundred plastic teeth.

I knew then that whatever was left of her heart had shattered right along with it.

That night, before I fell asleep, I heard her on the phone with a man.

Ill take the transfer to the London studio, she said. Ill be there in a week.

In my half-asleep haze, I remembered that before she married my father, my mother had been a globally renowned photographer. Collectors and celebrities used to bid fortunes just to secure a print of her work. But she had surrendered her legacy for him, hiding away in New York, working a miserable, low-paying job where she was constantly mistreated.

I smiled into my pillow.

In seven days, the brilliant, shining version of my mother would finally be back.

Five days before our departure.

I came home from school to a chaotic mess. My father, who hadn't stepped foot in the apartment for two days, was busy throwing my trophies and certificates into a large cardboard shipping box.

Even the princess dresses my mother had saved up to buy me, along with my limited-edition dolls, were being ruthlessly shoved inside.

My mind went blank. I looked at my mother, terror rising in my chest. Her face was pale, her knuckles white as she gripped the doorframe.

Alex, are you even human? she whispered, her voice trembling. You havent checked on Maisie in two days, and the moment you walk through the door, you start stealing her things for those two?

My father didnt even look up. He picked up one of my spelling bee trophies, examining it casually.

Nydia, I didn't want to do this, but you posted that photo on social media. It triggered Cassandra and Zoe. Zoes been depressed ever since. Maisie has so much. Whats wrong with letting a fatherless child have some of her things?

My mother let out a dry, bitter laugh, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Only a filthy mind sees filth everywhere. I never bragged. Maisie and I earned those trophies. When youre busy being a savior to another man's wife and daughter, do you ever stop to think about your own?

My father scoffed.

My mother took a deep breath, as if she had finally seen through him completely. She took out her phone and sent a message to the journalist who had been begging to interview us.

Hi, Susan. I accept the 'Champion Mothers' feature. Tomorrow night at seven. 302 Bayside Lane.

Nydia! What do you think youre doing? My father lunged forward, snatching the phone from her hand.

My mother looked down at him, her eyes dead.

If they want the trophies, they have to earn them. If they can survive a live press interview, they can keep them.

My fathers jaw clenched. Do you have to make everything so ugly? What happened to the woman I married? You used to be so elegant, so understanding. He ordered the movers to take the final box. Before he stepped out, he looked at her with deep disappointment. Theyre just toys, Nydia. Ill bring them back when Zoe is done with them. Delete that interview request.

My chest felt heavy as I stared at my shoes.

My mother stepped forward. Don't you dare walk out that door with

Mommy, I interrupted quietly. I looked at my father and shook my head. Its okay. I dont want them anymore. Let her have them.

A flash of relief washed over my fathers face. He smiled and reached down to pat my head. Thats my good girl. Always so sensible.

After he left, I looked around the empty room. I went to my piggy bank, fished out a ten-dollar bill, and walked down the hall to the apartment of the college student who lived upstairs.

Sam, I said when he opened the door, holding out the bill. Can you be my dad for tonight? Its my mommys birthday.

Sams voice cracked. Did Alex...

Hes dead, my mother and I said in unison.

Understanding softened his face, and he quietly followed us back to our apartment.

We blew out the candles on the small cake, and as I started to sing happy birthday, my mother's phone buzzed. Her hand shook as she opened the notification.

I peeked over her shoulder. My blood ran cold.

Cassandra had posted a new photo.

The caption read: I love breaking things. He never gets angry; he just smiles and hands me another.

Underneath was a picture of my hard-won trophies, smashed into pieces on her living room floor. Beside them, my beloved dolls had been defaced with black marker, painted to look like ugly clowns.

Ding.

A notification from the bank app popped up. My father had sent my mother a transfer of five thousand dollars.

Then, a voice note: Nydia, there was an accident with the trophies. Just take the cash and buy Maisie some new ones.

Tears hot and heavy blurred my vision.

But Daddy, money can't buy back the love we had for you.

My mother squeezed her eyes shut. She took a screenshot of the post, of the bank transfer, and sent a voice note to our family lawyer.

Mr. Fletcher, Im sending over the financial records and the evidence of Alexs infidelity. Lets get the divorce filed immediately.

My mother never replied to my father's transfer.

Instead, his calls came flooding in, one after another.

Nydia, its your birthday. Im sorry I forgot.

Why arent you accepting the money? Why do you have to be so difficult?

Are you happy now? The reporters showed up at Cassandra's place and made a scene. Is this what you wanted?

My mother read the texts silently. For the first time, she didn't cry. She simply tapped his profile and hit block.

Goodbye, Alex. You will never hear from her again.

Three days before our departure.

There was a community father-daughter sports day at the local park. My father had promised me over and over that he would show up.

I sat on the wooden bench, clutching my mothers hand, waiting.

Five minutes passed. Then thirty.

My mothers phone rang. It was him.

There's an emergency at the firm. I have to go in. Ill make it up to Maisie next time.

Before he could finish, my mother hung up and blocked the temporary number he was calling from.

I tried to force a smile to comfort her, but then, a familiar laughter echoed from the other side of the field.

Youre the best, Daddy Alex! Were going to win!

My mind went entirely blank.

I turned around. There was my father, lifting Zoe into the air, his face glowing with a bright, proud smile.

I looked at my mother, lost. I thought Daddy had to go to work.

My mother stood up, her face tight with rage, ready to confront him.

I grabbed her hand, pulling her back. Mommy, no. The race is starting.

We returned to our lane.

It was a relay race. If I could run the first two hundred meters and hand the baton to my mother, we could win. The grand prize was a family vacation packagesomething we had dreamed of.

Hope flared in my chest.

At the sound of the starting gun, I ran with everything I had.

Fifty meters... one hundred... one hundred and ninety...

Sweat stung my eyes, but I reached out, desperate to hand the baton to my mother.

Suddenly, a violent force shoved me from behind. I crashed onto the gravel path, my knees scraping raw.

Blood seeped through my leggings. I gasped, tears springing to my eyes.

Beside me, Zoe let out a piercing scream.

Why did you push me! Daddy, it hurts! She lay on the ground, wailing at the top of her lungs.

My mother flew toward me, wrapping her arms around me to protect me.

But my father and Cassandra were already there, their faces twisted with anger.

Maisie! Why did you push Zoe? my father roared.

I didn't! I screamed through my tears.

Zoe pointed a trembling finger at me. She did! She did it on purpose, Daddy!

My chest tightened so hard I could barely breathe.

My mother stood up, her voice like a blade. Check the cameras. If you don't believe my daughter, let the footage speak for itself.

But my father didnt care. He swept Zoe into his arms, glaring at us.

Cameras? Youve raised her to be so manipulative, Nydia. Watching the tape will only humiliate her.

They rushed off toward the first-aid station.

My face went pale, and I reached up to touch my mothers cheek. Mommy, it doesnt hurt...

And then, everything went black.

When I woke up in the medical tent, the speakers outside were blaring.

Congratulations to Zoe for winning the relay!

I stared at the ceiling, tears silent against my skin. I had been so much faster. Why did she win?

Did my father pull strings for her again?

My mother, her face set in a dark mask, stood up and marched straight toward Cassandra.

Oh, Nydia, Cassandra purred, a cruel little smile playing on her lips. You didnt have to come over to congratulate us. She leaned in, whispering so only my mother could hear. Honestly, thank you. If it weren't for Alex helping us, wed be nothing. Technically, you guys were faster, but Alex just has such a soft heart... he cant stand to see us cry.

Slap.

My mothers hand connected with Cassandras face, hard.

She grabbed Cassandra by the hair, dragging her backward. I told you to stay the hell away from my daughter!

Cassandras shrieks brought my father running.

Nydia! Have you lost your mind? Just because you lost a race, youre attacking her?

My mothers eyes were bloodshot. Yes! I want you both to burn in hell!

My father slammed into her, shoving her away.

My mother hit the ground, her hands flying to her throat as she gasped for air.

Her panic attack. Her clinical depression was clawing its way out.

Terrified, I scrambled to my feet, limping heavily as I reached into my pocket for her rescue medication.

Mommy!

But before I could reach her, someones foot tripped me. I went flying, the pills scattering across the dirt.

Zoe stood over them, a malicious grin on her face, and brought her sneaker down hard, crushing the tablets into dust.

No! The scream tore from my throat, raw and agonizing.

Those pills were her lifeline. Without them, she could suffocate in minutes.

As I crawled to save the remaining powder, Cassandra screamed.

Maisie, don't push Zoe!

My father didnt even hesitate. He shoved me back.

Behind me was the deep, stone-lined ornamental lake.

Before I could fall, my mother lunged forward, throwing her body in front of mine.

Splash.

The cold water swallowed her. She couldnt swim. She thrashed, her face turning blue.

I threw myself at my fathers legs, sobbing hysterically.

Daddy! Mommy can't swim! She has depression! Please save her!

My fathers eyes widened. He took a step toward the water.

But Cassandra wailed, Alex! Zoes fainted! Help her!

My father froze. His heels pivoted.

He picked up Zoe and ran, shouting over his shoulder to his assistant to pull Nydia out.

I watched him run away, my heart tearing in two.

Daddy, did you really just abandon us?

At the hospital, after my mother was stabilized, I pulled another ten-dollar bill from my pocket and handed it to the orderly.

Sir, can you play my dad for today? Just to look after my mommy?

The man looked at me, heartbroken. Sweetheart, where is your dad?

My voice was quiet, dead.

My dad is dead.

He died the moment he walked away from my drowning mother.

One day before our departure.

My mother packed our suitcases and finalized our visas.

My father came to the hospital every day. Whenever he saw the orderly helping us, his brow would knit into an angry scowl.

Maisie has a father, Nydia. Are you that desperate for a mans attention?

Neither of us answered him. The orderly eventually kicked him out.

He brought jewelry, designer clothes, and expensive toys. We quietly donated every single item to the pediatric oncology ward next door.

He had no idea.

Five hours before our flight.

My mother took me to the amusement park. It was the one place I had begged to go, but her illness had always kept us home.

I'm so sorry I kept putting this off, sweetie, she whispered, kissing my temple.

I grinned, showing all my teeth.

Suddenly, my smart watch buzzed. It was a text from my father.

Maisie, tell Mommy Ive sent Cassandra and Zoe out of the country. Im taking you both out tonight to make up for your birthdays.

My chest tightened. But then I looked across the plaza.

There was my father, holding shopping bags, laughing as Cassandra clung to his arm.

I didn't tell my mother. I tapped the screen and blocked his number.

Another lie.

As we queued for the Ferris wheel, sirens suddenly began to wail across the park.

A chaotic scream ripped through the crowd. Four massive, rabid guard dogs had broken loose and were charging toward the visitors.

My mother grabbed my hand, trying to pull me toward the exit, but the stampede of panicked people tore us apart.

Maisie!

Fear anchored my feet to the ground. My legs felt like lead.

Suddenly, my fathers voice boomed over the noise.

Maisie! Come here! Run to Daddy!

My eyes welled with tears. I started to run toward him.

But Cassandras voice shrieked, Alex! Zoe is trapped over there! Save her!

My father looked at me, then at Zoe in the distance.

My mothers voice was hoarse from screaming. Alex! Save Maisie! Someone else is going for Zoe!

My fathers eyes darted back and forth. Finally, he looked at me.

Maisie, just wait there!

Wait.

Always wait.

He turned his back on me and sprinted toward Zoe, scooping her up as he fled.

The four snarling dogs closed the circle around me.

The last spark of love I had for him died in that moment.

As they lunged, my mother charged through the crowd like a wild animal, brandishing a heavy wooden stake.

She threw herself over me.

The dogs tore into her legs. Blood soaked my clothes, but she looked down at me, smiling through the agony.

Don't be scared, baby. Mommy's here.

I sobbed, shaking uncontrollably.

Just as the dogs lunged again, a team of security guards rushed in with tranquilizer rifles and subdued them.

At the hospital, after the rabies shots were administered and her wounds were bound, my mother gripped her passport with bloodless knuckles.

Maisie, lets go. I cant breathe in this city for another second.

As the plane lifted off into the clouds, I had only one thought.

Goodbye, Alex. You will never find us again.