Father Troubles

Chapter 1
“Stanford? I need t’ask you a question-” “It’s fairly simple, Fiddleford.” Ford stated, still writing in his notebook, his back facing Fiddleford. “All you need to do is re-calculate the dimensional force but using the second equation we made than the other one because although the first one works perfectly fine, the second equation gives a more accurate result, in which we use the first one for the problem we had previously but using tangent x squared instead of 34.57 times x to the tenth power of nine. It just makes more sense that way…although there is a slight chance of failure, but that’s like 00000.3 percent, so we don’t-” Fiddleford stopped Ford, not letting him finish. “No, Stanford! A…personal question.” Ford stopped writing instantly and just stood there, not looking at his assistant. “Um…” “It’s nothin’ bad, Stanford, if that’s what you’re implyin’!” Fiddleford said quickly, knowing that Ford had thought it was something terrible. “It’s actually quite the opposite,” He smiled, fiddling with his tie. Ford slowly turned around, rubbing the side of the pen with his index finger. He was still a little iffy on the whole Can-I-Ask-You-A-Personal-Question statement. Usually it had something to do with his son Tate and how he wished he would do anything for him but Tate wouldn’t let him. It’s quite sad actually, Ford admitted. But Ford knew Tate did love his father although he did get quite embarrassed when he was around. Ford knew because Tate told him. Ford didn’t blame Tate, though. He understood perfectly. Fiddleford could get quite embarrassing at times…heck, he even embarrassed Ford a few times as well. Tate just wants to have a good reputation at school (Well, that’s what Ford thought, anyways) and Fiddleford seemed to always be too protective or tend to embarrass him in one way or the other. Ford took a deep breath and sighed. “Okay…Go on.” Fiddleford looked away for a bit and then back at his friend, still playing with his tie. He looked a little edgy, as if he was itching to get it out or something. Fidds eyes darted from one side of the room to Ford then to the side of the room and back to him again, and wait – was that sweat trickling down the side of his face? Ford tried to give a reassuring smile, in hopes that Fiddleford would calm down a bit. “W-well, y’know how I was iffy on the whole havin’-a-baby thing? And how Maddie was all over the idea, but I wasn’t too fond of it?” Oh no, Ford thought. “Yes…” Ford cringed a bit but not enough for Fiddleford to see. He’d hope that Fidds was just joking and that they were not going to have this conversation. Not here. Not now. Not ever. “What about it?” Ford asked, smiling weakly. “Well…I…” Fiddleford trailed off, averting his eyes and dropping his head, looking at the floor. He scratched the back of his neck, trying to find the right words so that he wouldn’t scare off Ford since Fidds could obviously tell that he was a little nervous. “M-maybe my thoughts have changed a bit?” Fiddleford squeaked, his face full of sweat. He was hoping that Ford didn’t notice how uncomfortable this was for him to ask. “What?” Ford was speechless and just stared at his friend. He wasn’t sure if he heard him right. “L-let me explain!” Fiddleford said, putting his hands up in defence. Ford just nodded slowly, his mouth slightly opened. “W-when Tate was born,” Fiddleford began, fiddling with his tie once again. “It was like the best thing that had ever happened to me since I’ve gotten married.” Fiddleford waited for Ford to say something, but Ford just sat there, pen in hand and not moving. “A-and, it was like my whole life changed – in a good way – and all that mattered was him…my little bundle of joy.” Fiddleford paused for a moment, trying to figure out how he was going to propose the question, so he stalled for a bit more. “I mean, it was scary at first…especially between those nine months.” He shivered a bit. “But once that whole thing was over, I just felt that all that I needed to do was make sure to be the best father I could be. An’ well…I thought a lot about it an’ I remember how happy Maddie and I were...” He paused once more before continuing. “I mean, I was always jealous of you, Stanford.” “What?” Ford couldn’t think of anything to say. Fiddleford caught him off guard for once (Usually it was the opposite). “Stanford, you had somethin’ I’ve always wanted.” Ford darted his eyes from one side of the room to the other, unsure where this was going. He then stopped and looked at Fiddleford. “And that is…?” Ford was going to regret asking that question later. “A sibling.” Fiddleford looked at his friend with a slight smile. “I’ve always wanted a little brother or sister. I mean, it got extremely lonely at times and I always wished I had someone t’play with.” Fiddleford just looked away. “I wasn’t the type of person who had friends, Stanford.” Ford let out a little chuckle. “Fiddleford, it’s not as great as you think. I mean, you get into fights a lot and they always tend to think they’re the ones right and always steal your stuff and tattletale on you…” Ford clenched his teeth and turned his hands into fists. “And ruin your project that you worked so darn hard on and to come back home to your parents and say that you can’t go to your dream school because your stupid brother ruined it just to get his own way!” Ford breathed heavily, his anger burning in the pit of his stomach. “But that’s what siblings are about!” Fiddleford smiled. “I mean, it brings you closer, t’understand each other and learn that there is no stronger bond than the one with your sibling.” Ford shook his head. “Trust me, Fiddleford. Siblings aren’t all what they turn out to be.” Then Ford thought of something. “Wait…what does siblings have to do with you and your son?” Fiddleford looked at Stanford for a long time before saying anything. He tried his best to explain it. “I want to give Tate what I wanted most as a kid myself…And I think it’d be nice t’have another one. I admit, it was fun.” Fiddleford said, playing with his tie again, a little smile tugging at the edges of his lips. Stanford raised an eyebrow. “Wait…you mean…?” Fiddleford nodded. His tie was getting wrinkled from how hard he was twisting it. Ford looked down at his pen, trying to process all this. So Fiddleford wanted another child? The Fiddleford who was scared to have a child in the first place? The one that was a nervous wreck to ask Maddie to marry her? Ford shook his head in disbelief. “Did you tell this to Maddie?” Fiddleford looked at Stanford and shook his head slowly. “And how does Tate feel about all this?” Ford asked, writing something down in his notebook. “I didn’t tell him either.” Fiddleford stated, looking away. “You didn’t tell neither of them?” Ford asked, getting up from his chair. “And you’re asking me?” Ford shook his head and chuckled. “Fiddleford, I know nothing about these stuff and you know it. I am a scientist, not a baby expert!” Fiddleford looked down. “I know, I know…I am just worried.” Ford chuckled. “Worried about what?” “Well, about a number of things.” Fiddleford said, wringing his hands. “First, what would Maddie say? What would be her thoughts? Would she want to go through all of…” He waved his hands, gesturing to his stomach. “You know…That again?” He paused again, thinking. “And what about Tate? Would he want to have a sibling? What if he gets mad or somethin’? And lastly…am I a good enough father? I mean, I feel like Tate hates me. An’-An’…Well, I really do want another one.” Then Fiddleford looked at Ford again, another smile registered on his face. “Preferably a girl.” He said quietly. Ford shook his head laughing. “Fiddleford, you worry too much. You’re an amazing father.” Ford walked towards Fidds and gave him a side hug, squeezing his shoulder supportively. “Just ask them. I am sure Maddie would be thrilled to have a second son…Or daughter.” Ford paused thinking. “And, well…I don’t know Tate that well, but I am certain he’d be fine with it.” Ford smiled at Fiddleford, trying to show him that there was nothing to be worried about. Fiddleford nodded, smiling at Ford. “Thanks.” Ford loosened his grasp on Fiddleford and headed back to his desk. “My pleasure, buddy. Now, are you going to help me with this or what?”