I Don't Need A Thimble! [Giraffe :D]

My head thumps back against the wall. Vicky is quiet so I go silent too, still twiddling my thumbs. In the down time, though, I take a moment to figure out what I really want out of this situation. I'm the father of Vicky's baby. Do I really want to bail out? Something in my stomach churns and in comes a rush of anxiety.

I can't raise a kid. I've been to the DC and I'm a criminal. Is turning over a new leaf even possible for me? Old habits die hard - really hard. I don't know how I can just get up one morning and stop looking at people like they're literally something to eat. It's what I do! People are edible to me. I'm like a starving dog looking at a hard of plump, lazy sheep. What do starving dogs do? They go after the damn sheep and don't stop - that's what I do, I don't stop what I love doing.

But that little person growing inside of Vicky is my flesh and blood, too. My own dad skipped out right after his one night stand with my mother, and it's never really pissed me off until now. What was going through his head when my mother told him she was pregnant? He probably never knew and I doubt he would have wanted to hang around to see me. I don't want to be like him.

The door beside me opens and I see Vicky peering out at me, saying my name. My eyes starts to examine her face. What of her features will the kid have? Her eyes? Nose? Mouth? And suddenly I want nothing more than to know what the baby is going to look like. I want to stay. I want to stay.

"I don't want to skip out like my father did," I say in a quiet, honest tone. "I know I'm immature. I know I'm not the brightest, nor the most sane, nor the kindest, but believe it or not, I can be compassionate. I don't want to leave you; I want to stay. I want to help. I want to be a part of this kid's life and do what my father never did for me." She might think I'm crazy and lying, but I'm not and I hope the sincere look on my face is enough to convince her.

She wants it to be a surprise. I'm fine with that, but eventually I'm going to really want to know. How many months is she along? Can't be too many... maybe two months? It's been about three months since we first met, so she can't be farther along than that. She's not even showing, so how much longer do we have? A year? Six months? I'm not sure I can handle not knowing for that long.

A short laugh escapes me when she suggests my middle name. "Ishmael? As much as I'd love to, I doubt the kid would like being named after me, especially with my record." It's flattering though to think that she thought of me when deciding on one name. But what if it's a girl? She never mentioned a girl's name. "If it's a girl, then how about... Ashton? Your middle name for a girl, mine for a boy. Unless you want to change it, that's completely fine. Though this not knowing part is going to kill me." I briefly stick out the tip of my tongue then bring it back in, a habit I've been starting to do absentmindedly.

Patience. Now that's a word I don't use or practice often. Usually my motto is "Now, now, now!" but Vicky speaks the truth. I know it takes a hell of a long time for a baby to form and depending on what the mother eats in that time can make a baby taste really good or really bland but I figure that this might actually be worth the wait. It's not everyday that I find out there's going to be a mini me running around raising some hell.

Of course it's a big step. I'm so used to looking out for myself solely, and now there'll be some defenseless, can't-do-anything-for-myself babe that'll look to me to do everything for it. And Vicky - what do I do for her in the meantime? Get her food? Real food, as she puts it. And oh my good ripred, I need to get a job. A better one, actually. My job at the morgue doesn't pay that well but it's all I have.

"Patience... I don't know what patience means." I give an overly dramatic scoff. "And.... I need new eating habits. Can you cook? You should teach me."