No More Little Girl

How could daddy be any less pleased than when he's dressing his little one up? Pulling knee-high socks over thin legs, ruffled panties with white and pink lace over her meaty bottom, tiered-dress with puffy sleeves zipped up her tiny back—that's what daddy loves. When he's holding her around her waist, giggles coming out of slightly spread lips, embarrassed little girl, sweet little girl; when he's combing his fingers through that thin, curly hair that only children have, kissing her cheek and whispering, "I love you, my beautiful girl." How could daddy be any less pleased than when she's sitting in his lap, being a good little girl, just playing with her toys on his chest?

Daddy isn't so pleased with her when she says no to him. Defiant, disobedient, bad little girl. How could baby girl forget? How could she forget her daddy, what she means to him? How could daddy be any less unhappy? Little girl isn't being so good; she isn't being so nice anymore. When daddy only wants to hold her, cuddle her, snuggle her, love her, she pushes him away and whines, whines to leave her alone and go away. "I only want to hold you, little girl. Come here, sit in my lap." But no, daddy, she doesn't want to sit in daddy's lap anymore. She's a big girl now, daddy—she wants bigger, better things.

How could daddy be any less happy than when his little girl crawls into his lap, nips at his fingers and nuzzles his hand? He pulls a collar around her neck, presses his lips to her there, and slides two of his fingers into her mouth, her eager tongue wrapping around them, her lips moving against them, sucking him in and out, in and out. Daddy was always pleased when she did that to him, when she made him feel that way. He whispers, "That's a good girl...very good," and she stays in his arms that night, lays her head on daddy's chest and snuggles him, hands clasped around his upper arm, keeping them around her so that she can feel safe.

But little girl doesn't need daddy anymore. What person needs their daddy when they're a grown adult? Going to work every day, she needs no father to control her, no father to give her rules or stupid chores. She's a big girl now, and she tells him that every day, that she's a big girl, daddy, she understands. She's a big girl, daddy, she doesn't need you to tell her that. Pushing him away, slamming the door behind her, she says that she wants to go out and see the world, she wants to experience life without daddy. She doesn't want you holding her hand anymore, little girl doesn't need that. She needs to be alone. Alone. Away from her father, her daddy.

After all that daddy taught her, showed her of himself, she leaves him, picks up her things and says, "Goodbye, you are not my father anymore. Do not call me again, I'm not your little girl." But oh, he is. Daddy will always be her father, like she will always be his little girl. Daddy will always be waiting, no matter how unhappy little girl makes him, no matter how much she pushes him away. Daddy knows that she needs him there, knows that little girl will not survive without him. So he takes her suitcase, her car keys, throws them on the floor and picks her up into his arms, kissing the side of her head as she cries. Daddy drops little girl on the bed, wraps blankets around her body and wraps his arms around her again, never letting go. He kisses her face, her neck, her arms, her ears, whispering to her, soothing little girl so that she'll stop crying. Daddy holds her, and sighs.

Little girl leaves for good the next day. Daddy calls her, every five minutes for the next week, and she never picks up. After a month, her cell phone is disconnected. Five months pass, and he received the new phone book, immediately looking her up and not finding her. He calls mutual friends; they haven't heard from her since before she left. After a year, her stuffed animals accumulate dust. Daddy looks around their home, picking up some things and putting them away, putting all of her toys in a bag to go to charity. Then he sits down on their couch, sighs to himself, and turns on the telly, news report of a young lady who jumped from a building, little girl who committed suicide. Little girl who left daddy forever, never coming back. "Goodbye, daddy," she said, "you'll never see me again. I promise."

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I could almost feel my heart break upon reading these beautifully written words. Although I know only a minuscule amount about the life of a Mommy or Daddy and their Little, the feelings, the love and the passion... They are all so naked in this post.

Sir said...

Anonymous - I am glad that the feelings got across. Thank you for writing me. I hope that you will again.

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