Solitary

*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*

Today is the day he loses his daughter.  He could tell by the silence—stronger than usual and more prominent—and the quiet packing in her room she conducted that morning, trying to be as invisible as possible.  He has no idea why she would decide to leave. He has given her everything, in his eyes, and she just refuses to see it.

His daughter clears her throat and he looks up from his Forbes magazine article to see his daughter sitting on the couch, her body in unusual form sitting up straight and staring at him.

“Hm?”  

“I have made my decision.  I’m not going to stay here over the summer,” she tells him.  His heart stops for a second. He has been expecting her not to stay, but he could never understand why.  He wants to say so many things. He wants to yell, to protest, but instead he does nothing. He just sits there.

“So to stay with your friends it is then,” he questions, but it comes out monotone and more of a statement.  She nods and lets out a quiet breath of relief.

It looks like she has prepared for this moment for a long time.  He still can’t get over the fact that she is leaving him. He won’t see her for another six months, till Christmas if she comes home.  Even then, she would wait to come when her mother comes to visit for the holidays.

“It’s not the choice I thought you would make, but I guess I can’t argue with you.  You are eighteen. Not eight anymore.” It is the best statement he can say without arguing.  His heart aches. His insides churn. How can she do this to him?

“What are you going to do for work?”  He tries to make conversation. He doesn’t want to hold her back.  He just wants what is best for her.

“I got a job downtown working for a charity organization.  Just answering phones and organizing events,” she says proudly.  He laughs inside his head, thinking how silly she is to believe that community service will actually aid her future.  What kind of role will that play on the resume if it even makes it on there? None that he knows of.

“No corporate?”

“I decided I want to give back to the community more than anything.  Because if I play all my cards right, I could make a difference.”

He can’t hold it back.  It is something she will learn eventually anyway.  How can he let her just fail and learn it herself? He might as well save her the pain of failure.

“Just like your mother: always trying to do the right thing.  Sometimes there has to be a bit of selfish business work, you know.”  How do you think he paid for the jeans, the clothes, the house, the food, and the cars?  It had to come from some selfish work for himself. It’s the only way you get anywhere in life.

He waits for a response and she gives none.  So he continues. “It’s life. Either you look out for yourself or you get trampled.”  Her face distorts into a look of disgust and he shifts in his seat.

“I don’t believe that.  There has to be another way to live,” she protests.  He tries to come up with the appropriate words of advice.  Something that will make her think about this differently. She can do what he did: make lots of money and live the life until she gets married, have kids, and the cycle begins again.  She can be successful. He just has to tell her.

“Hello?”  His daughter’s phone rang and he can’t say a word.  He knows his time is up. He doesn’t know the next time he will see her or if he ever will.

“Yeah, just let me grab my bag.  Okay. Bye.” She hangs up and he feels devastated.  First his wife left him on the accusation that she couldn’t take him anymore.  And then he lost his daughter. His only daughter. The daughter who was supposed to make it big in business but is pursuing a career in women’s studies instead.  The daughter who made a promise to always love him in the end. But now she’s leaving. Did she ever really love him? Or was it all a façade?

“I guess this is it,” she whispers.  He nods, sadness filling his body. He opens his arms and gives her a hug.  It is empty, emotionless, and it feels like a skeleton without flesh. A cold, dark, lonely space that he can never return.  She is gone for good.

“Good bye,” she says and she turns to walk through the hallway to the front door.  The click of the keys on the counter is enough to make him sit down again, the television on and the Forbes magazine limp in his lap.  It is a return to the usual routine: get up, heat up leftovers, trade stocks online, buy on eBay, try to pay the bills, eat lunch, bike an hour, watch sports, eat dinner alone, lie in bed watching a movie, and all the while pretending that the absence of people in his life doesn’t matter.  They are happier and if he truly loves them, he will let them go. But he can’t. Because there is never a true reason he can piece together as to why they left? Or if they will ever come back in his life.

*Photo retrieved from Pixabay.com*

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