Yes, Daddy

“You realize I’m going to be late to my appointment and it’s all your fault, right?” I say while grabbing my wallet and apartment keys off the counter.

“Sorry, sorry! But hey, I can start building our house while you’re gone! I couldn’t have gotten the netherbrick without you bae.” Ivy calls out with her eyes still glued to the tv screen.

“Yeah well if they don’t accept me you can get me a new appointment. You know how long it took me to get in with this doctor.”

She sighs and takes her eyes off the screen to look at me.

“They’ll accept you, and if they don’t I’ll rip that doctor a new one. Why don’t you take my car so you don’t have to wait for the bus.”

I can’t help but smile. I walk over to her and give her a quick hug.

“I love you so much Ivy.”

She laughs and hugs me back before pushing me towards the door.

“I love you too, now go.”

I grab her car keys off the hook next to the door and head out. With only a little bit of difficulty, I find Ivy’s grey Ford Fusion, climb in, and set off.

Ivy has been my best friend for my whole life. Our moms were best friends so we met soon after I was born. My mom passed away when I was 11 and dad was never really in the picture, so Ivy’s parents took me in. Of course, it wasn’t the same as having my own parents, but I am so grateful for everything they have done for me.

When Ivy graduated high school, her parents bought her the Ford Fusion and she moved out into an apartment. Even though I was only 16, I moved with her. I always felt like a burden to her parents, even after they assured me I wasn’t, so I didn’t want to stay any longer than I had to.

We have been living at the apartment for 3 years now. I picked up a part time job at a café to help contribute towards rent, but for some reason it is ridiculously hard for me to get my manager to give me more than 20 hours a week. Because of this, and the fact that I make less than minimum wage plus tips, I can’t contribute much, but Ivy never seems to complain.

After a short drive I pull into the parking lot and rush into the doctor’s office. I make my way to the front desk, out of breath from my brisk walk. When the receptionist looks up at me I introduce myself.

“Hi, my name is Skylar Young. I have an appointment with Dr. Sanders.”

“Ah yes, you’re 15 minutes late.” The receptionist says while looking at her screen.

“I know, I am so sorry but I really need,”

“You’re lucky. You’re his last appointment of the day and he decided to stay late to wait for you. Have a seat and a nurse will call you back in a moment.”

“Oh, thank you so much. I really appreciate it.” I head over to the waiting area and before I can even sit in a chair I hear a nurse call my name.

“Miss Young?”

I nod shyly and follow her to a checkup room. She has me stand on a scale so she can take my weight then she measures my height. She has me sit in on a chair in the room while she sits at a computer. She asks me the typical questions. Do I smoke? No. Drink Alcohol? No. Am I sexually active? No. The date of my last menstrual cycle? About five weeks ago?

With the generic questions out of the way, she leaves the room after informing me that Dr. Sanders will be in shortly. While I wait, I fiddle with my fingers, look around the room aimlessly, swing my feet back and forth, even tap my fingers on my thighs. After only maybe 5 minutes, there is a knock on the door and an older man walks in.

He appears to be in his 50’s. His hair is black but most has turned grey along with his short mustache and beard. He seems to have a pretty average build for his height and he wears a pair of glasses.

“Hello Miss Young, I am Dr. Sanders.” He says with a kind voice as he holds his hand out to me.

I gently take his hand and shake it. He takes a seat at the computer.

“I’ve reviewed your chart. You’re 19 years old, you’re 4’10 and weigh in at 102 pounds, which seems to be around the same as your last checkup. That informs me that you’re not growing anymore. No drugs or alcohol use to stunt your growth, and your cycle is often inconsistent. Would you say you have a heavy or light flow when you get your period?”

I can’t help but flush with embarrassment at his question. He’s just doing his job, there’s no reason for me to be embarrassed, but he’s so matter-of-fact about it all it makes me uncomfortable.

“Uhm, usually it is on the lighter side.”

“Right. I’m thinking you have a simple hormone imbalance. That would contribute to the height and cycle issues. I would like to get a urine sample and a blood sample from you to run some tests and confirm. Also, I would like to schedule you for an ultrasound to check on your reproductive organs and make sure everything is looking alright there.”

Whoa, this is a lot to take in. A hormone imbalance doesn’t seem like too big of an issue, but I am a little worried that he wants to check on my reproductive organs. I love kids, and I would love to have some of my own. It would crush me if I wasn’t able to have them.

I have been concerned about my petite, almost child-like figure and irregular cycle for a while now. I was hoping I was just a late bloomer, but I never hit puberty as hard as other kids my age. Come turning 18 I started to worry I might never. After doing research, Dr. Sanders kept coming up as the best doctor in the area for issues like mine.

It took me months to get accepted as a new patient. When I finally was accepted, it took even longer for them to schedule me in for an appointment.

“R-right. Okay…” I say.

He must pick up on my hesitation as he starts to reassure me.

“Don’t worry. There’s a reason they call me the best. I’ll take good care of you and make sure everything turns out alright for you. I’ll be here with you through every step in your journey.”

I give him a small nod.

“Right. Take this and collect a urine sample and afterwards a nurse will come by to have you fill out some paperwork and take a blood sample. After that you just need to check out with reception and schedule your next appointment and you are free to go.” He hands me a cup and points out the bathroom attached to the room.

“It was nice meeting you Miss Young. I look forward to working with you and getting your health all figured out and back in check.”

With that, he heads out. I head to the bathroom to collect a urine sample then return to my chair in the room. Only a few minutes later there is a knock on the door and the same nurse from earlier walks in.

“Alright, I just need you to sign this form consenting to us doing bloodwork.” She says while handing me a clipboard.

I nod and skim the paper. Noticing nothing out of the ordinary, I sign and hand it back to her.

“Alright. Now I’ll just take some blood and you can be on your way.”

She starts getting everything ready and I can’t help but stare at the giant needle. I hate needles. With a burning passion. Everything about them makes me feel faint. I ball my hands into fists and look away from the needle, trying to focus on my breathing.

I feel her gently take my arm and poke around looking for a vein. Once she finds one she cleans the area with a disinfectant wipe.

“Alright, here we go. 1, 2…”

I pull my arm away from her out of reflex. Realizing what I’ve done I look at her with big apologetic eyes.

“I-I’m sorry. I really hate needles.” I give her my arm back.

She gives me a kind smile.

“It’s alright sweetie. It’ll be over before you know it. Just close your eyes and think about something else.”

I nod and take a deep breath and close my eyes. I feel her getting ready again, but this time she pokes the needle into me without any type of warning causing me to jump. She didn’t give me the chance to chicken out this time, and I’m sure not going to rip my arm away with a needle in it.

I take deep breaths trying to distract myself from the needle in my arm. After about a minute she finishes and bandages me up.

“Alright, you’re all set! See that wasn’t too bad. If you just head back to reception they will get you scheduled for your follow up.”

“Thank you,” I say softly and look at my bandaged arm.

Nope. Feeling queasy just looking at it.

I head out and back to reception. The woman glances at me and types something on her computer.

“Alright Miss Young, and how will you be paying for this visit?” She asks.

“Can you please send a bill for me?”

“We normally expect payment up front Miss.”

“Right. Uhm, I’ve had some doctors just include a billing fee… Is that something you could do for me? Please?”

She lets out a sigh but tries to hide it by quickly smiling at me again.

“Let me double check with Dr. Sanders.” She picks up the phone and dials a number. After a moment she begins speaking. “Dr. Sanders, Miss Young is requesting that we send her a bill which is against our policy for first time…. Of course Dr. Sanders. Sorry to bother you.” She hangs up.

“Should I just have the bill sent to the address on file?” She asks, redirecting her attention to me.

“Ah! No actually,” I open my wallet and pull out a small business card with a P.O. box address written on the back. “Could you send it here please?” I ask, sliding the card to her.

“Of course,” She says, typing the address into her computer. After a moment, she slides it back to me. “Now he wants you back in two weeks, how does that Friday at 4 pm sound?”

“That sounds fine.” I say, putting the card back in my wallet.

“Perfect, and then he wants you to come in for an ultrasound but he doesn’t want to schedule that until he gets results from the blood work so we will schedule that at your next appointment.”

I nod in response.

“You are all set Miss Young. We will see you in two weeks.”

“Thank you,” I say softly and turn and head out. I climb into the Ford Fusion and drive off.

My thoughts swarm with possibilities. I know Dr. Sanders assured me he is good at what he does, but what if there is something seriously wrong with me? What if he finds out I won’t be able to have my own kids one day? I had hoped to get my life under control and be able to settle down with a family.

There is nothing better than the feeling of holding a life that you created in your arms, or so I’d imagine. I want a husband one day who will take care of me and our kids, be a good father and husband, and never leave us like my dad left me.

Okay, maybe my dad didn’t completely leave me. Do I know what he looks like? No, but whenever mom would take me to doctors appointments, she would hand them a card and ask them to send the bill to the address written on it. When she passed, Ivy’s parents did the same thing. Mom used to tell me it was my dad’s P.O. box, and that he had agreed he would pay all my medical bills.

I don’t understand why a father who has never been there for me in my life would want to provide for my medical expenses, but he does and I’m not in a position to complain. Without fail every time a bill is sent to the P.O. box, it is paid off in full in a timely manner.

Mom used to tell me that my dad loved me, but that it was safer for both her and me that he stayed out of the picture. I tried to ask her for more information, but she was always so good at changing the topic.

Regardless of the reason, he wasn’t there for me. I want a husband I can depend on to always be there to love and cherish my kids. My children won’t grow up like I did. They won’t spend countless nights wondering if their dad really loves them, or if he even exists for that matter. I guess, this all depends on if I can even have kids?

With my thoughts racing, I didn’t register the car in front of me braking suddenly. The next thing I know, Ivy’s precious Ford Fusion collides into the back of an expensive looking black Corvette, and I am jolted forward, only to be stopped abruptly by my seatbelt pulling me back.

Author's Note

Hello! Thank you for choosing to read my story!

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(Update: I used to have a story titled "Let's Play A Game" uploaded on here that was relatively popular but Inkitt decided to remove it. You can still access this story on my Patreon, but I will not be re-uploading it here.)

My Patreon typically has a good amount of early access chapters for this story in particular. I typically upload chapters there as soon as I am finished writing them, where as I wait and upload to a schedule here or wait until I have enough chapters written to continue a consistent schedule. This being said, my Patreon typically has a decent amount of chapters that haven't been published on Inkitt yet.

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