Mrs Hansen || A Lloyd Hansen Story

Thick Dense Guilt

"Please stop pacing, Rebecca...sit down. You're freaking the dog out." Alan got up from the sofa, reached down to try and lift the agitated little scamp, but was met with snarls, "Alright dude, I'm just trying to help."

"I just...it's the...I don't know what to do, I thought about keeping it from you too. But I...fuck I don't know what to do any more." Rebecca panted through her panicked breaths, running her hands across her tiny bump.

Alan nodded, he understood, "How far along are you?"

"Sixteen weeks." She blurted out, "I've known for twelve."

"And it's Lloyds?"

"Yes, its fucking Lloyds what do you take me for?"

Alan stepped closer to Rebecca, which only agitated Tony further, he held up his hands to show that he meant Rebecca no harm, "I'm sorry, that was..."

"Dick-ish?" She interjected.

Smiling apologetically, Alan answered, "Yeah."

Just at that a knock came at the door, Alan glanced at his watch. It was a bit late for unexpected guests, and Tony began barking ferociously at the door.

"Who is it?" Rebecca called cautiously, watching as Alan reached inside his leather jacket for his gun.

"It's Dad," Royce called from the other side.

Rebecca gestured her hand towards Alan, silently telling him to put away the gun. She then reached down and lifted Tony into her arms, attempting to soothe him with a gentle "Shhh..."

Slowly, she opened the door and saw her father standing anxiously on her porch, a manila envelope in his hand. "Mom know you're here?" Rebecca asked, trying to keep her voice from wavering. It had been months since she had last spoken to her parents, ever since she had told her mother that she was expecting.

"Yeah, I have this letter for you," her father said, extending his arm out to her.

Rebecca cocked her head inquisitively. "What is it?" she asked.

"I don't know," Royce replied. "Your mom was about to toss it in the trash, but I thought it might be something from the hospital."

Rebecca eagerly tore open the brown envelope, and as she pulled out the letter, a wave of relief washed over her, easing the tension in her shoulders. Without thinking, she handed Tony to Alan, leaving the door open and her father standing in the doorway.

"Everything okay, Rebecca?" Alan asked.

She nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I'm cleared to drive." It was such a small thing, but it meant so much to her. It meant that she had regained some of her independence back.

Royce stepped over the threshold of the door and began to size up Alan. "Is this the new guy?" he asked, his lip curling.

Tony began to bark uncontrollably at Royce, thrashing around in his arms.

"No, Daddy, this is Alan, my friend," Rebecca interjected, no longer offended by her parents' comments.

Royce shook his head, "Well, Alan, you can take Rebecca to the dealership then." Turning on his heel, he prepared to leave.

"I'll take you tomorrow, Rebecca. No problem," Alan replied, his tone laced with sarcasm.

"I'm not a child; I can go to the dealership myself," Rebecca retorted.

Royce lingered at the door, his face a mix of disbelief and contempt. "Of all the men and boys in this world," he uttered, vitriol lacing his words, "you had to choose that man to be your... 'thing's' father."