by Elad Haber
I never wanted to be a dad. The truth is, I didn’t want to grow up.
I was a pot-smoking, videogame-playing, Star Trek-obsessed nerd with aspirations of being a fiction writer. I only got my shit together when I met my wife and even then, I was “iffy” on the whole Adult with a capital A thing.
Until my daughter was born. Until my world expanded in a way I never imagined.
I became that dad, the one with the overstuffed backpack loaded with wipes and diapers, the bleary-eyed father with his daughter on a Saturday morning at the children’s museum, the one who takes her to ballet and sticks around with a book.
I leveled up. My wife was exhausted from fighting with the world, so I decided that our new baby-friendly house would never see a day done with dirty dishes in the sink, unwashed surfaces, and laundry waiting to be done. I did it all, smiling. I even learned to cook.
On the outside, I may seem like a ‘good dad,’ but yet my world is mired in quicksand questions, threatening to drown me. Is she safe? Is she healthy? Did I forget to pack lunch? Does she need more water? Did I remember to pack a sweater?
When I wash dishes, I make wishes to a genie. He’s not from some movie. He doesn’t sing or dance. He is serious and mysterious. A shapeshifter. In the daytime, he is half-hidden in shadow. At night, he waits. Like a sink full of dirty dishes.
I see him now, a reflection in the window above the sink. My hands are full of suds and a half empty bottle of dish soap. I glance back to see if he’s behind me, but it’s just the silent, sleeping, house. I squint into the yard then, at the darkness between the trees. He likes to linger there. Every once in a while, I can see his golden face leaning into the moonlight. We lock eyes.
Those eyes are demanding. Threatening. He wants wishes, needs them, otherwise, well… I don’t want to find out.
So, I make a wish with every dish I wash. For the world. For my daughter. For my wife. If I repeat myself, the house starts to shake, the ground rumbles and clean dishes in cabinets start to rattle, until I come up with something new and everything calms back to normal.
At first, I was glad to release my anxiety in wishes. I wished for the mundane and the grand. I wished away my fears of disease and injury. I wished for a better world for my daughter to live in. But, lately, he’s been more demanding.
I don’t know how I summoned him. Maybe it was my immaturity, my self-doubt that manifested him. All I know is he is my burden to carry.
If you happen to be over at my house and offer to do the dishes, I will say “No!” vehemently.
Please don’t be offended.
I’m not ungrateful.
I’m trying to save you.
From him.
Elad Haber (he\him) is a husband, father to an adorable little girl, and IT guy by day, fiction writer by night. He has recent publications from Lightspeed Magazine, Underland Arcana and the Simultaneous Times Podcast. His debut short story collection, “The World Outside” was published by Underland Press in Summer 2024. Visit eladhaber.com for links and news.