He Has Always Been There

By Anon / Spring 2026

“Hey dad! Can you come to my school tomorrow morning? It’s Daddy Donuts day!”

He’s standing at the kitchen counter, busily scribbling down words on a sheet of white paper. I stand below his waist, looking up at his tan, veiny arms waiting for a response. He glances down at me, “I’ll try,” he says, not even pausing his fast moving hand with the pen. Not a yes, but not a no, giving me the tiniest bit of hope.

I step into my classroom and I’m immediately greeted by the scent of sweet powdered and glazed donuts. My teacher calls everyone to sit at the front of the room, on the rug with rainbow colored squares outlined in black and pieces of mud scrapings scattered from the day before. The room is louder than usual with everyone excitedly talking about their dads coming.

“My daddy is gonna get here first, before yours,” Tranese says.

“Well, my daddy’s better because his favorite color is blue. Just like mine.”

While everyone talks all about their dads, I sit here quietly. I think about what my dad said the night before. I know he’s just busy with work, and I realize that he’s doing what’s best for our family– to provide! He keeps our lights on and it’s because of what he does that allows me to have pink, sparkly Barbie dolls. Even then, I can’t help but still look up every time the door opens. One by one, I have just a little bit of hope that the next person who walks through the door is going to be my dad– that it will be my turn to sprint across the room and throw my arms around my dad’s legs.

“My table is the purple one, daddy!”

My teacher begins handing out donuts, and the sugary smell thickens in the room. I stay on the rug longer than I need to, tracing the edge of a green square next to a blue square with my finger and picking at mud from my shoes with the other. If I stay here, maybe it’ll look like I don’t really care and that I just want to sit here, like I’m not waiting for anyone. Every now and then, I look up at my red table, still with an empty chair that’s supposed to be mine.

I finally stand up, brush my hands against each other, and make my way to the only empty seat at my table. Fine, I’ll just eat my donut at least.

Then, someone taps my shoulder. “Hey! Where are the donuts?”

I turn around immediately and see my brother grinning down at me with the warmest smile on his face. He smirks a little in a way people do when they know they’ve pulled off a surprise.

My brother is 14 years older than me. For practically my entire life, he has always been there. He cooks me food and occasionally takes me to Chick-Fil-A when I beg nicely. He picks me up from the bus stop and from practice, always waiting in the same spot so I can find him right away. Everyone always confuses him for being my dad, but I don’t mind that because he’ll always fill that role when he needs to. My brother is someone who I can go to for anything. I’m very close to him despite the age gap.

My eyes widen and the corners of my mouth immediately perk up. I grab his hand and pull him towards the red table. He folds himself as he sits down in the tiny chairs, his knees sticking up awkwardly like the other dads. I laugh at him because he looks so uncomfortable as he reaches over to grab two donuts for us. We eat amidst the noise, talking until it softens around us. He asks me which poster on the wall is mine, and I point over to the one on a pink sheet of paper.

“That one’s mine!” I point.

He looks for a second.

“Wow, that’s the best one in here.”

I feel immense happiness that nothing else even matters. It’s like there’s no one else in the room except for me and my brother.

When it’s time to leave, the noise and the chatter start buzzing again. Chairs scrape against the floor to be put back, and everyone starts saying their goodbyes. My brother stands up as well, brushing off the powdered sugar on his hands and pants. I take his hand and walk with him to the door.

“Bye bye!!” I say, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.

“See you after school.” He says, waving back with the same smile.

The room starts loosening and settling back to normal– half-empty donut boxes, sticky tables, and the smell of sugar still lingering in the air. I walk back over to my red table and sit down in my seat with a smile still on my face.

“Was that your daddy,” my friend asks with crumbs still covering her face.

I shake my head. “Nope, that was my older brother.”

She blinks. “Oh... Are you sad your dad couldn’t come?”

I take a glimpse over at the door my brother had just walked through and at the empty chair sitting next to me that was just occupied by him.

“No,” I say.