“I want her to have my name and for the world to know that she belongs to me.” He looks at me. “I want you both to belong to me.” He looks at me. “I know you have a dad.” “Yeah,” he says, and then whispers, “you.” It’s my time now to blink away the tears. He’s always said he loves me, always hugs me, but never once did I push the idea of me being his dad on him. He had a dad, a shitty fucking excuse for a dad, but a dad nonetheless. “You are my dad.”
