Daddy's Little Girl

A narrative essay about a family falling apart.

 

Daddy’s Little Girl

We used to be whole, full, loving. Talking came as easily as breathing and feelings still mattered. Or maybe that’s all because I never opened my eyes to other possibilities. Maybe my life wouldn’t always be sunshine and roses, and maybe my parents would not always have patience for me. I should have seen them burning out; seen the brick walls, barred windows, cemented doors, locking me out for eternity. It’s true what they say, that ignorance is bliss, and walking away is often easier than hearing the truth.

                I sit up in my room, right above them and hear the yelling.

                “Shut your ungrateful mouth and do as you’re told! Shut up!” My father yells, shaking the house. My sister retorts with curse words. She’s only nine. I’m reminded of the time that I came home late from Robert’s house that fateful night. How loudly he yelled then made tonight’s show seem muted. He had no idea how right he was to be mad then, but not now, not at her.

                Descending the stairs he sees me and snorts. “What do you want now, to tell me off again? Well I’m the father here, and I don’t want to hear it.”

                I sit beside him, hiding the slight bump on my stomach beneath a baggy sweater. “Dad, we have to talk about something.”

                He stands up and walks away. My mother looks through me, to him, and asks what he wants for dinner, as if I had never spoken. Why can’t they hear me? I close my eyes for a minute, trying to fight back the anger and resentment that is building inside me, but their yelling wakes me. My father is calling my little sister a b***h, simply because she’s bothering him. Did he ever question why she has to be loud? She does it so that he might hear her, because he simple words are not enough to grab his attention.

                My father’s midlife crisis was spilling over into our lives. His drinking and swearing became his constant companions; suddenly having no time for his daughters.  “Liz, get lost, would you?” He snorts as he turns his back on her. I’ve had enough.

                “You told me that once, too, Dad. Remember? Oh boy, did I get lost! I went to Robert’s. He was the only one to show me the love that I’ve been needing, that I deserve. But I didn’t know what true love was...now look at me.” I lift up my sweater and reveal my stomach, a bump that has been growing for four months. “I’m pregnant, Dad. You can’t ignore this! This is something that even your drinking won’t mask. You can’t sweep me under a rug, I need help! Please...” Tears formed in my eyes and blurred my vision. I didn’t need to see to know that he was walking away from me once more, leaving me on my own.

                I walked to the front door, grabbing the car keys. “I’m going to Robert’s.”

                My parents say nothing, only sit on the couch watching T.V.

                It’s true that ignorance is bliss, but how can they pretend not to notice me now? I still dream of when my father would sit me on his knee and ask about my day. Now he pushes me away, hoping that I won’t bother him any longer. He got his wish, now I am gone; gone from his heart, robbed of his love, endlessly searching for another source.