Rent A Dad For A Day

1 Ever since my husband started reserving every single weekend for his late buddy’s sister and her kid, my son started stuffing coins into an old cookie tin. When his teacher asked what he was saving up for, he tilted his head up and said, “To rent a dad for a day.” On the day of the school’s father-son field day, while other kids held their fathers’ hands and sprinted across the finish line, Sam stood alone on the sidelines holding a card. On the back of the card, written in crooked, childish handwriting, were the words: Space available for rent. Half days accepted. I tried to pull him away, but he looked up and whispered, “Mom, did Aunt Amber buy out all of Dad’s time?” Later, when my husband finally realized something was wrong, he rushed home carrying a limited-edition robot kit to make up for missing Sam’s birthday. The front door was ajar. On the living room coffee table lay a return slip drawn by our son. Under the reason for return, it read: Dad is constantly out of stock. Customer service is terrible. Item no longer wanted. … “Rachel, is this how you raise our son?” Nicholas slammed the paper return slip onto the glass table. The thin paper crumpled under his palm. At the top was a grid drawn with colored markers in Sam’s shaky hand. Item Name: Dad. Duration of Use: Six years. Damage Level: Constantly missing, breaks promises, gives my belongings to other people. Reason for Return: Out of stock long term, terrible customer service. Item no longer wanted. Nicholas stared at the words, his face pale and tight. “I’m not even dead, and he’s treating me like broken junk to be returned?” I pulled Sam behind my back. “You’re not junk.” Nicholas choked on his next word. He glared at me, his temper flaring higher. “Rachel, stop with the passive-aggressive commentary. I cleared my schedule to come back and celebrate his birthday today. What more do you want?” I glanced at the limited-edition robot kit in his hand. The corner of the box was crushed. The security tape had already been sliced open and peeled back. “Did Mason reject it first?” I asked quietly. Nicholas froze for a split second. “Can you stop dragging Amber and Mason into everything? Mason is young, he opened it to take a look and didn’t care for it. I knew Sam would like it, so I brought it home.” Before I could reply, Sam poked his small head out from behind my hip. He stared at the battered box, his voice barely a whisper. “Dad, is my birthday present just someone else’s leftovers?” Nicholas knit his brows into a harsh line. “Don’t be so petty, Sam.” Sam squeezed the hem of his shirt. “Then can I have the remote-controlled car you bought for Mason after he’s done looking at it?” Nicholas’s expression darkened. “Sam, Mason’s situation is different. His mom is raising him on her own, and he has sensory processing issues. What’s wrong with me taking a little extra care of him?” Sam slowly lowered his head. “I only have one mom, too.” Nicholas went still. A flicker of guilt flashed across his eyes, but he quickly shoved it down. He reached out to pat Sam’s head, but Sam flinched and ducked away. Nicholas’s hand hovered in the air, his pride wounded. “Sam, I’m your father.” Sam looked up at him. There were no tears, no screaming, no tantrum. Just a terrifyingly quiet gaze. “Can a dad expire?” Nicholas was rendered completely speechless. That night, Sam didn’t touch his birthday cake. He dragged out his metal cookie tin from under his bed and placed it in the center of my palm. Inside was one hundred seventy-three dollars and fifty cents, the bills and coins neatly stacked and sorted. “Sam isn’t renting Dad anymore,” he said, trying his best to offer me a smile. “Mom, keep the money for train tickets.” My throat felt like it had been scraped with sandpaper. I pulled him into my arms. His small, thin shoulders were tense, but he didn’t shed a single tear. For years, Nicholas always claimed he was busy. Busy with the technology center projects. Busy with the youth robotics league. When Amber’s hallway light broke, he was busy fixing it. When Mason had a mild fever, he was busy rushing them to the emergency room. Whenever Amber sighed and said, “Nicholas, my brother ruined his hand back then just to save your life,” Nicholas would drop everything and walk out on Sam’s parent-teacher conferences in the middle of the night. Yet when Sam had his first terrifying high fever at age five, Nicholas didn’t come home. When Sam graduated from kindergarten, Nicholas didn’t come home. When Sam fell on the pavement downstairs and chipped his front teeth, Nicholas didn’t come home. Every single time, he had an excuse. And every single time, the excuse involved Amber and her son. After Sam fell asleep, I walked into the study. At the very bottom of my desk drawer lay an employment contract. Lead Curator, Southwest Ancient Manuscript Restoration Center. I had once stayed in this city for Nicholas, turning down two advanced fellowship programs and giving up a chance to lead my own research team. I wasn’t waiting anymore. I picked up a pen and drew a red circle around a date twelve days from now on the calendar. That was the final deadline to report for duty. In twelve days, I would take Sam and leave. As for Nicholas… since he had been returned, he didn’t need to take up space in our lives any longer. 2 Nine days until departure. I stepped out of the museum’s storage vault, still carrying the faint scent of turpentine and aged paper. When I unlocked the front door, the apartment was in absolute chaos. The rug in Sam’s bedroom had been kicked aside. Two movers were hauling his custom electronics workbench toward the doorway. Mounted on the table was a robotic arm he had spent three months assembling. I had gone out of my way to source those specific, delicate components from a specialized supplier. Every day after finishing his homework, Sam would put on his safety goggles and lean over the desk like a tiny engineer, adjusting every wire with pride. He had named that robotic arm “Little Boat.” He told me that when Dad finally came home, he would program Little Boat to hand Dad a glass of water. Now, Little Boat was shoved carelessly into a cardboard box. Wires were snapped, and half the arm hung limply over the side. Nicholas stood near the hallway, directing the crew. “Careful with those parts. Don’t lose anything. Mason needs them for his competition next week.” I froze in my tracks. “Nicholas, what are you moving?” He turned around, his tone entirely offhand. “I’m borrowing Sam’s setup for Mason for a few days. Mason is competing in the city innovation fair, and they don’t have a proper workbench at their place.” “Borrowing?” I walked over and stepped directly in front of the movers. “Did you ask Sam?” Nicholas frowned. “Sam is just a kid, what does he know? Leaving this gear here is just playing around. Mason actually needs it for serious work.” Just then, Sam ran out of the bathroom. Seeing his workbench being hauled away, his face drained of all color. “Dad, no!” He sprinted forward and wrapped his small arms around the table leg. “Little Boat isn’t finished! The teacher needs to check it tomorrow, I promised her!” Nicholas grabbed Sam by the collar and pulled him back. “Stop throwing a fit.” Sam panicked, tears brimming in his eyes. “You said this workbench was mine!” Nicholas said sternly, “Mason needs it more than you do.” Sam stared up at him, bewildered. “What about me?” Nicholas lost his patience entirely. “You have your mother to stay with you every day. You have a complete home. What does Mason have? His mother is struggling on her own, and his uncle lost his livelihood because of my past accident. Why can’t you just yield to him for once?” I let out a cold laugh. “So you’re paying off your debts to the family by stealing from your own son?” Nicholas’s expression shifted. “Rachel, watch your mouth!” “Is it too harsh?” I pointed at the snapped wires of the robotic arm. “You crushed three months of your son’s hard work just to curry favor with someone else’s child, and I’m supposed to applaud you?” Nicholas suppressed his anger. “Don’t make this a moral crusade. I’ll buy him a brand new set tomorrow.” Sam suddenly spoke up, his voice barely audible. “You said that last time, too.” Nicholas stiffened. Sam looked up, counting on his fingers one by one. “You said you’d buy me a telescope, but you gave it to Mason.” “You said you’d take me to the astronomy exhibit, but you went to the hospital with Aunt Amber.” “You said you’d teach me how to solder circuit boards, but Mason cried, so you left.” He sniffled softly. “Dad, are your tomorrows only reserved for other people?” Nicholas’s face darkened inch by inch. “Sam, don’t pick up your mother’s dramatic habits.” Sam flinched at the harshness in his tone. I stepped forward and gathered Sam into my arms. “You want to move it? Fine.” Nicholas looked at me, caught off guard, as if he hadn’t expected me to yield. I pulled out my phone and hit record. “State it clearly for the camera. This equipment belongs to Sam. You are taking it without his consent. Any damage will be reimbursed at full price, and the credit for his design remains solely under his name.” Nicholas sneered. “You’re recording this? Rachel, you’ve become completely unhinged.” I nodded. “Yes, because I know exactly how reasonable you like to pretend you are.” The movers stood there awkwardly. Nicholas pressed his lips into a tight line, but ultimately signaled the workers to carry the boxes out. At eleven that night, Amber posted an update on social media. In the photo, Mason sat at Sam’s workbench, grinning brightly with his prominent canine teeth showing. The caption read: Mason finally has his very own tiny laboratory. Thank you, Nicholas. You always say my brother ruined his hand for you, but I know you’ve always considered us your real family. The very first like on the post came from Nicholas. Sam leaned against my side. When he saw the photo, he didn’t cry. He simply walked over to his bedroom wall, peeled off a sticky note that read Dad and Sam build a Mars rover together, crumpled it into a tight ball, and tossed it into the trash can. I closed my phone, opened my laptop, and finalized the lease agreement for a two-bedroom apartment in the new city. The landlord messaged asking when I could move in. I replied: As soon as humanly possible. Three minutes later, a text from Nicholas popped up. Is Sam still throwing a tantrum? Soften him up a bit. I’ll take him behind the scenes at the tech museum this weekend to make it up to him. Looking at the word compensation, a hollow wave of absurdity washed over me. He always assumed injuries could be discounted. He had no idea that some things, once broken, came with no customer support at all. 3 Four days until departure. Sam’s youth robotics showcase was held at the community center. Without his workbench, he had been forced to piece together a crude, makeshift vehicle using spare parts from old toys. Before leaving the house, he polished the tiny plastic chassis three times. Then, he carefully tucked an entry ticket into his jacket pocket. It was the ticket he had saved for Nicholas. I asked him, “Are you still waiting for him?” Sam kept his head down, snapping a small wheel into place. “He said he would definitely come today.” I didn’t shatter his hope. When we arrived at the venue, other children were fine-tuning impressive, polished creations. Sam sat in a quiet corner, cradling his humble little car, his eyes darting toward the glass entrance every few seconds. Five minutes before the presentations began, Nicholas sent a text. Emergency system glitch at the technology center. I’ll be late. Tell Sam not to make a scene. I put the phone away. Sam had already seen the notification banner on my screen. He asked quietly, “He’s not coming again, right?” I knelt down and straightened his collar. “Mom is here to watch you.” He nodded gently. “Okay.” When Sam’s name was called, he walked onto the small stage, his voice trembling slightly into the microphone. “My project is named… The Homecoming.” A few parents in the audience chuckled softly. Sam held the controller tightly. “It can automatically detect paths, navigate around obstacles, and find its pre-set destination.” The little car hummed to life. Though it moved slowly, it navigated around every barrier on the board with steady precision, finally stopping right in front of a small wooden block labeled Home. The instructor led the applause. A faint smile finally touched Sam’s face. At that exact moment, familiar voices echoed from the back door. “Mason, slow down, watch your step.” Nicholas walked in, holding Mason’s hand. Amber followed right behind them, her voice soft and sweet. “Nicholas, it’s Mason’s first time on stage. He feels so much safer with you here.” The smile on Sam’s face instantly froze. I turned around to look at Nicholas. When his eyes met mine, a flash of guilt crossed his face, but he quickly composed himself and walked over. “See? I made it.” I looked down at the project in Mason’s hands. It was a robotic arm. The outer casing had been covered in shiny new stickers, but I recognized the jagged scratch along the base immediately. That was Sam’s Little Boat. Sam recognized it, too. His fingers turned white around his controller. “Dad… that’s mine.” Nicholas frowned. “It’s just borrowed for Mason’s presentation.” Mason shrank behind Nicholas’s jacket, his eyes welling up with tears. “Uncle Nicholas, am I not allowed to use it? Does Sam hate me?” Amber immediately knelt down to hug her son. “Sam, I don’t mean to criticize you, but your father just wants Mason to build some confidence. You’re so smart, missing one minor opportunity won’t hurt you.” Sam looked at her. “Then why can’t he miss an opportunity?” Amber’s smile stiffened. Nicholas snapped sharply, “Sam!” The entire room fell dead silent. Sam flinched from the sudden shout, but he didn’t back down. “It’s mine.” Nicholas lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “Stop making a fool of me in public.” I stepped firmly between Nicholas and my son. “The only person making a fool of himself here is you.” Noticing the surrounding stares from other parents, Nicholas’s temper flared. He reached out aggressively to snatch the makeshift car from Sam’s arms. “Since you don’t know how to behave, I’m taking this back until you learn some manners!” “No!” Sam pleaded, clinging to the toy with all his strength. During the struggle, the small vehicle slipped from their hands and smashed onto the hard floor. A sharp, jagged piece of metal sheared off and sliced straight across Sam’s open palm. Blood welled up immediately. Sam turned pale from the sudden, searing pain. I lunged forward and grabbed his wrist. “Don’t move!” Nicholas panicked for a split second. “Sam… I didn’t mean to…” Sam looked at his shattered project on the floor, then down at the bright red blood dripping from his hand. Slowly, he pulled the crumpled entry ticket out of his jacket pocket. It was crushed from being held tightly all morning. He held it out toward Nicholas. “Dad, I’m returning your ticket.” Nicholas’s voice went raspy. “Sam…” Sam raised his left arm to wipe away his tears. “You don’t have to come anymore.” I rushed Sam straight to the urgent care clinic. While the doctor stitched his palm, he bit his lower lip hard, refusing to let out a single cry. The nurse praised him for being brave. Sam stared at his heavily bandaged hand and whispered, “It’s better if it hurts a little.” My heart squeezed tightly. “Why?” He looked up at me. “So I’ll remember never to save a ticket for him again.” I wrapped my arms around him, tears threatening to spill over. When we got home, Sam sat at his desk and emptied every coin remaining in his cookie tin. He counted them one by one, then took a marker and wrote new words on the lid. It no longer said Rent a Dad. It said Moving Fund. I pulled up the travel app on my phone, selected our train tickets scheduled for five days later, and rescheduled them for the day after tomorrow. There was nothing left in this house worth waiting for. 4 The day before our departure. I took Sam to the main branch of the technology museum to retrieve his stolen workbench. Nicholas wasn’t at his office desk. A staff member mentioned that the annual youth science festival was taking place, and Nicholas was downstairs at the underground hydro-stage area accompanying special guests. I held Sam’s hand as we walked toward the lower exhibition hall. As soon as we reached the entrance, I saw Nicholas standing beside the water curtain stage. He was leaning over, carefully adjusting a pair of protective goggles for Mason. Amber stood right beside him, smoothing down the collar of his suit jacket with a natural, practiced intimacy. Sam stopped dead in his tracks. I felt his tiny hand go completely limp in mine. Nicholas spotted us. He instinctively pulled away from Amber’s touch. “Rachel? What are you doing here?” “Taking back what belongs to my son,” I said. Amber offered a gentle, sorrowful smile. “Rachel, Mason is still using the workbench. Could you grant us just two more days? His final evaluation is coming up, and switching equipment now would cause him a complete meltdown.” I stared cold eyes at her. “If he has a meltdown, what does that have to do with my son?” Amber’s eyes instantly welled with tears. Nicholas’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Rachel, can you stop starting a fight the moment you show up?” Sam suddenly spoke, his voice unnaturally calm. “Dad, I don’t want it anymore.” Nicholas blinked, caught off guard. “What?” Sam pointed toward the back door. “I don’t want the workbench, and I don’t want Dad anymore. Let me and Mom go.” He turned around and pulled my hand. At that precise moment, the red warning lights above the hydro-stage flashed frantically. An ear-splitting alarm blared through the underground speakers. Warning: Drainage failure detected in the underground exhibit. All visitors, evacuate immediately. Panic erupted instantly. Staff members yelled through megaphones, “Do not crowd the water curtain area! Use the exits on the right!” A second later, the overhead emergency high-pressure sprayers malfunctioned, pouring massive torrents of water down like a waterfall. Water accumulated rapidly across the polished floor. People slipped, and children screamed in terror. I instinctively scooped Sam into my arms and sprinted toward the main exit. In the surging chaos, Mason was knocked over by the fleeing crowd, tumbling into the narrow maintenance trench beside the stage. Sam was bumped out of my grip by a rushing crowd, falling backward into an equipment alcove on the opposite side. The automatic fire door of the alcove short-circuited, slamming down halfway and jamming securely in place. Water surged inside, quickly submerging Sam up to his knees. I threw myself against the crowd, screaming like a lunatic. “Sam!” Nicholas was closest to the stage. He saw Sam first, but in the next fraction of a second, his eyes caught sight of Mason trapped in the trench. Sam gripped the bottom edge of the metal door, his voice shaking. “Dad! Save me!” Mason was crying hysterically. “Uncle Nicholas! I’m scared!” Amber shrieked frantically, “Nicholas! Mason can’t swim! Please save him first!” In that single instant, Nicholas hesitated. It was truly only a split second. But I saw it with horrifying clarity. He turned his back on Sam and sprinted straight toward Mason. Sam saw it, too. The small hand he had reached out through the gap slowly dropped to his side. A burst of raw agony exploded in my chest. “Nicholas!” My voice was instantly drowned out by the roar of rushing water and frantic screams. I threw myself against the jammed door, slamming my shoulder into the heavy frame once, twice, again and again. Water surged up to my waist. Sam’s face grew paler by the second. His trapped right hand was caught underneath the heavy metal frame, blood seeping out and diffusing into the rising water. He didn’t call for his father again. He just looked at me. “Mom… it hurts.” I gritted my teeth and forced my fingers into the narrow gap beneath the door. Sharp metal edges sliced into the back of my hands, but I felt no pain. “Sam, look at Mom,” I sobbed, prying upward with everything I had. “Don’t close your eyes. Mom is taking you out.” Behind us, Nicholas had already lifted Mason into his arms and carried him to the safety platform. Amber threw her arms around him, weeping and calling his name. Using every ounce of strength in my body, I managed to wedge the door open enough to drag Sam out. His right hand hung completely limp. His little body was ice cold. When the paramedics arrived, I carried him straight into the back of the ambulance. Nicholas came running after us, his clothes soaked through. “Rachel! How is Sam?” I shoved him back, refusing to let his fingers touch the gurney. Seeing Sam’s pale, bloodless face, terror finally took hold of Nicholas’s eyes. “Sam! Dad is right here!” Sam kept his eyes closed, giving no reaction at all. The paramedics pushed me back, and the doors of the emergency bay slammed shut. The red light flickered on above the entrance. I sat on the cold metal bench in the hallway, blood still dripping slowly from the gashes on my knuckles. My phone screen was shattered and water-damaged. I opened the chat window with my attorney and sent over the signed documents. The divorce papers are finalized. Custody and asset division will go through litigation. I want a permanent order keeping Nicholas away from my son. After hitting send, I opened the transit app. I changed our tickets scheduled for tomorrow morning to the final train leaving tonight. Nicholas… you didn’t just fail to choose him today. You failed to choose him every single time.

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