#let alone dietary restrictions and the inability to drive

[trans-cuchulainn]

they should invent a gaeltacht that is easy and convenient for a disabled non-driver to travel to

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

In Sorrow and In Joy-Part 1: Fault

Luke learns the hard way what it means to be a dad and how to keep his family safe and together. Dad!Luke with a South Asian Reader. This is a collaborative experience with A Family of Five.

CW: Over the course of this series, themes of racism and prejudice on the basis of religion are present. Please read or skip as necessary. 

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Luke wants to vomit. It hits him hard and fast in his gut how much he’s not ready to be a father. But there you are, staring at him, the fear clouding your brown eyes. He can’t bolt. Even though he definitely wants to. He can’t. He’s not ready to be a father. He wanted kids, but much later in life. When the band wasn’t in a whirlwind of touring and music. When he felt like he could breathe for more than three seconds. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he says. “It’s going to be alright.”

“We’ve barely been married a month,” you whisper. “Are we ready for a kid?”

No, he’s not even sure in the slightest if he’s ready for a kid. But here you are, hands trembling with the pregnancy test. He has no choice but to be ready. “We’re going to make it. We can do this.” Even the sound of his own voice betrays him. He wants to be strong for you. Just because he wants that doesn’t mean it will happen of course. 

Over the course of the pregnancy, Luke’s fear subsides. It’s not as bad as he thinks. Yes, it’s hard. You have to cut back on the coffee and that makes you a little grumpy. Sometimes you get snappy, but he finds it endearing. Luke gives up alcohol to help with morale. Luke watches his baby grows everyday. You start glowing; though it’s hard to keep up with the dietary restrictions. But Luke’s there. He’s right there at every appointment, he’s there to rub your feet; he starts cooking more for the two of you. He sets up with nursery with Calum’s help. You direct the both of them. 

Birth is taxing, your body feels like it’s been hit by a mack truck. But you keep going. Luke’s there, holding your hand for every push. He brushes back you hair from your sweaty forehead. He whispers in your ear how strong you are, how great you’re doing, how it’s only one more push. Then finally Zahra’s scream pierces the chaotic hospital room and you’re body is filled relief. She’s here; she’s placed on your chest. It’s strange, this tiny baby--yours and Luke’s. Your heart swells. 

She’s here. 

__ Luke’s not home. He said he would be; he said he would work late tonight but be back home well before the wee hours of the morning. The album is a slow, painstaking process for you. Luke alway seems to be upstairs, writing, playing, gone out with the boys. You are alone, bouncing, feeding, cooking, changing diapers. You think you just need patience; give him some time to adjust. The two of you have a child, though. How much time does he need? You can’t do it alone. Ra cries in your arms. You’ve tried giving her a bottle. You’ve changed her diaper. She still cries. You don’t want to call Luke; if he doesn’t want to be here, you’re not going to bother him. But nothing is working. Nothing in the slightest. 

His phone rings, then a second time, then a third. Then a fourth. “Hey, baby,” Luke answers. 

Ra cries. You sigh. “When are you coming home? You said you’d be home by now.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry! I’m on my way. Does Zahra need anything?”

“You can’t drive if you’ve been drinking.”

“No, no, I haven’t been.”

Luke arrives home ten minutes later. Zahra’s not screaming anymore, but she’s still fussy. “Oh, how’s my sweetie?” he coos, picking her up of your arms. She calms immediately. “Did you just need Daddy? I’m sorry I didn’t come home earlier. I’m so sorry,” he whispers into her ear. 

__ Zahra giggles, clapping her hands. You coo at her, brushing a hand over her hair. “Yeah, is someone excited?”

She responds with another laugh. Holding out another spoonful of the applesauce, you make some airplane noises. Applesauce is her current favorite snacks right now. You glance up to the clock, almost afternoon. Luke hasn’t surfaced yet. But judging by his inability to almost walk last night, you’re not shocked. 

Sometimes Luke does well. He’s present; he’s here. He’s playing with Zahra, talking to her. He’s changing every other diaper. He’s cooking for all of you. Then sometimes he’s still acting like a teenager. He’s coming home drunk; or he’s staying out at all ungodly hours. Tomorrow is Zahra’s first birthday. There’s a big party planned, but there’s still so much to do today. You’re not even sure Luke’s going to be sober enough to remember his own name. 

Just as you scrape the bottom of the little cup, giving Ra the last scoop Luke descends the stair. He’s squinting, rubbing at his temples. It would be so easy to start an argument with him. He’d cave easily because he’s head is no doubt pounding. Instead you point out the water and advil. “Welcome to the land of the living,” you say.

All three of you manage to get the rest of the things for the party, the pitchers, streamers, plates and ribbons. Luke even convinces you that you need a Instagram wall, so you two discuss fabrics to put on the wall. Luke pulls down a soft pink fabric with crowns all over it. “Because Zahra’s a little princess.”

The sentence makes you smile. But when you look at him, you see the tight skin, the sunken eyes. He is visibly still hung over. The soft moment shatters just as quickly as he comes around. Later in the night, Luke’s finished putting Ra down for bed when he crawls into your shared bedroom. He rests his head on your chest, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m so sorry,” he says quietly. 

Luke knows he’s spiraling. He know he’s pushing away from you. He wishes he wasn’t so terrified. But he can’t help but feel a little cheated. He loves Zahra but she came so fast. A little bit of Luke’s youth feels snatched away. He’s trying to snatch it back, chase it down. But he’s hurting you. 

“I need you here, Luke. I need you to be here and if you can’t do that, I can’t stay here.”

Luke’s heart seizes. Tears are starting. The back of his head throbs as the hot water falls down his cheeks. “Please don’t leave me. Please. I can’t lose you two.”

“Then act like it.”

And he does until six months after Zahra’s second birthday. When he does come home he reeks of booze. Sometimes you don’t see him for two days. He’s spiraling. You can’t do this. You can’t fix him, baby him and raise an actual kid. You’ve asked Calum and his wife, Ra’s godparents, to take her for the weekend. You need to have this conversation with him with no interuptions. They happily take the giggly baby for a couple days. 

When Luke comes home, he spots Calum’s wife with his baby. He knows it’s bad. He rushes over, pulling Ra into his chest. “Hey, princess,” he smiles. She babbles back to him. “Going over to Uncle Cal’s for the weekend?” he asks Ra, but looks to Calum’s wife. 

“C’mon, Ra, let’s go baby girl,” she says taking the girl back. 

Luke’s heart is in his ass. He stomach threatens to pour out every bit of his lunch and every ounce of tea he drank while recording vocals. With one hand on the doorknob, Luke thinks about just driving away from the house. This has been a long time coming. He’s fucked up too many time. He wants to stop, he really does. But being a parent terrifies him. How can he take care of someone else when he can barely take care of himself? How can he expect you to put up with his bullshit?

Instead of running, Luke inhales deeply before releasing it. He turns the knob, pushing the door open. You sit at the kitchen counter, hands folded over a manila envelope. Tears are in your eyes. He can see them streaking your face. He’s fucked up. When he approaches you, he reaches for the pen. “I’m sorry to do this,” you cry. “I am so fucking sorry.”

His chest hurts, eyes clouding up with tears. Luke shakes his head. “There’s no need for you to be sorry. It’s my fault. I didn’t clean up my act.”

“I love you, please know that. I love you to the ends of the earth. But I’m thinking about Zahra. My past, all the shit that I went through.”

Luke strokes your arm, voice cracking as he speaks, “I know you are. That’s what makes you such a great Mum, and person.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Luke kisses your forehead, the top of your head, arm sliding around your shoulders. “It’s my fault. Don’t cry, baby, please. Not over the likes of me.”

Your head falls into the crook of his shoulder, your face a mess of tears and shot. He rubs your shoulders. “I’ll go get help. I’ll clean up my act. Don’t give up on me for forever. I’ll sign these papers. But please, please, don’t give up on me. Let me still be in her life. Please. Give me another shot in the future.”

“I could never take her away from you fully. That would be horrid.”

Luke pulls the envelope from underneath your arms. “I’m not going to fight you. Let me just have a lawyer look over this. But I promise I’m going to go to help. I promise you, baby. I promise.” His blue eyes are so full of tears. You nod. You’ll give him a second chance.