Chapter 2 - Learning to Be a Dad
A little over a year after I first lifted that trunk lid, the adoption went final.
Tony shook my hand outside the courthouse. "Take care of her."
"I will," I said. And I meant it.
Parenthood was mostly figuring it out as I went. I warmed bottles half-asleep before the sun came up, and I took every weekend job I could get whenever the money ran thin.
When Josie was four, she asked me to braid her hair for preschool. I watched videos until midnight and tried again in the morning. The result looked like something a raccoon had done in the dark.
She studied herself in the mirror. "Dad, is my hair mad at me?"
By six, she had me sitting at tea parties in a plastic gold crown. By ten, she could swap a tire without me touching it.
Every so often she asked about her birth mother. I always gave her the same answer.
"I don't know who she is. But if you ever want to look, I'll help you."
Josie usually just shrugged. "Maybe someday."
I never pushed.
Her sixteenth birthday landed on a Monday. I got up at five to bake the cake myself. By quarter past six the kitchen looked like a flour bomb had gone off. The frosting slid off one side, and the pink "16" on top came out crooked and kind of drunk-looking.
Josie came downstairs in her pajamas, took one look, and cracked up.
"You made that?"
"Show some respect."
She wrapped both arms around me and squeezed.
"Best cake ever, Dad."
"You're a terrible liar."
May you like
"Still eating it."
Before I left for work, she went and found that old plastic crown in the junk drawer and set it on my head.
