This is a very short story/vignette about a father who's doing what he believes is best for his child and what happens when others disagree with him.

Daddy's Little Girl

Copyright 2008 by Heather Rose Brown
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While deftly weaving between all the strangers meandering like zombies through the crowded airport, I stole a glance at the little girl sleeping in my arms.

"No," I thought to myself, "that's the kind of thinking that lost me custody in the first place. He's my son, not my daughter."

Even though I knew Melissa -- no, Michael -- was very serious when he said he wanted to be a girl, the judge seemed convinced a five-year-old couldn't make that kind of a decision even before Theresa's lawyer presented his argument. Attempting to bring out that he'd been living as a girl for a year and still hadn't changed his mind had only made things worse.

"AeroExpress flight 212 is arriving at gate 16C," announced a disembodied voice, sounding much too chipper for four o-clock in the morning.

"Oh sh--." I shifted Michael higher on my hip, did an about face, and trotted in the other direction.

My son lifted his head from my shoulder and squinted up at me. "We at Mommy's plane yet?"

I brushed a few silky strands of his auburn hair behind his ear. "Not yet, pumpkin," I answered as I put on what I hoped was a reassuring smile to hide my worry. It was hard to do when I thought of how he'll probably react after he finds out about Theresa's plans to give him a 'decent' haircut.

A shudder passed through me as I started imagining what else might happen in the month he'd be with her before we saw the judge again. Even though I knew without a doubt that she'd never do anything to hurt our child, I also wondered how far she'd go to try to 'help' Michael. It had taken a lot of thinking and soul searching before I'd decided running away with him would probably cause more harm than a short-term shift in custody arrangements.

Michael blinked sleepily, but I could still see both the curiosity and worry behind his eyes. "What she like?"

"Oh, she's the most wonderful woman I've ever known." That was the absolute truth, which made her blindness to what was really going on with our child even more maddening. I knew I was going to get angry again if I brooded about it too long, so I desperately grasped at the next thought that floated by. "Jack seems like a pretty nice guy."

He gave me a much more serious look than a child his age should be able to manage. "Mommy told me he could be my daddy."

I quickly swallowed the lump threatening to choke me. "I'm sure he'd make a wonderful father."

"That mean ya ain't gonna be my daddy no more?"

I froze, ignoring the angry muttering of those passing me. The pain in Michael's -- no, Melissa's -- voice and the lost look in her eyes broke my heart. "Sweetheart, I'll always, always be your Daddy."

My assurance was rewarded with a tiny, brave smile.

"You know what else?" I asked as I brushed a tear from her delicate cheek.

"What?"

"You'll always be Daddy's little girl."