Last evening was the first time since I started working for A Company Called Malice, Inc. that I got home before The Daughters were sleeping. I read to them for the first time in over a month. What a treat! Nobody has ever been as happy to see me walk into a room as The Daughters. You can see it in their faces. It’s sincere.
I’m sure when they’re angst-filled teens they’ll hate my guts but at this stage of the game, they still run up to me and wrap their arms around my waist (7-Year Old) and leg (3-Year Old) when they see me.
I was a reluctant father and had children very late in the game. I still believe that my life would have been just as satisfying if I hadn’t had them. I would have been one of those crusty old New Yorkers who everyone wants dead so they can have my apartment. That would have been fine with me.
But I have to admit; the attention they lavish on me is deeply satisfying. It’s a foreign sensation, as I never felt that way about my own father. As soon as I was old enough, I made damn sure I was out of the house when he got home from work. And that’s all I’m going to say about that.