Never Quite There

She takes my arm and we begin the long walk down the aisle. She's whispering something to me, laughing. I nod, not quite hearing what she's saying, not quite comprehending what she's trying to tell me, as I've done all the years of her life.

Never quite there. It hits me like a ton of bricks as she smiles and nods at long-time friends, young women whose faces I barely recognize, but who have no doubt spent more time in my own home than I have. There's one right there. She's smiling broadly at that one, so I decide I should make some indication that I recognize the person. And, I do, in a sense, but it's all through a haze. I never quite noticed who she brought home. I certainly couldn't tell you the person's name.

I nod discreetly. She's squeezing my arm now, in anticipation, as I walk her to our final destination. I'm giving her away to a man I barely know, not for lack of trying on his part, but because I've simply not put forth any effort to know about her life, to know her friends, to even know her fiance. And, now, I'm passing her on to this man I do not know, realizing all of a sudden that I should have more memories before she leaves me forever. That I should know more about this person I call my daughter. At this moment, she is little more than a stranger to me. And, I know that it's entirely my fault. Never quite there.

Her arm loosens and I release her. We're at the end of the aisle, of course, and she's supposed to stand at the front without me. With hollow words, I confirm that I'm giving her up, understanding now that she is no longer my girl. She's his.

Never quite there. I've lost my chance. And there's no way to get it back.

Reviews

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Very nice piece. The realization finally hits the father over the head as he walks her down the aisle. For once in his life he has no choice but to face the facts and they show him how hollow his life is. I don't have anything bad to say about it. More of a character study or a piece of flash fiction than a short story. Flash, imho, is the hardest to write since you have so few words to get your ideas across. You do so wonderfully here and it's not forced on us. Thanks for posting.

[A.L. James]

At first I thought the person narrating was handicapped or something. It was a surprise to see the person just barely able to recognise the fact that this, his daughter is now someone else's bride. Is this the inside of a person with Alzheimer's, or someone suffering a brain injury? As such, it is poignant and heart wrenching. I have seen this type of mentality in men who are dying slowly. It is sad to see them lose connections in their families like this instance. I know someone who loved his daughter very much but hardly knew her on his deathbed. A normal person this detached from his daughter's life is a cad.