Author's note: Someone once commented that I wrote horrible daughters in my stories. I had to laugh at that because it's true but not because I hate daughters. I had an idea about kids being active in the betrayal of the cheated upon dad. I took that premise several different ways and submitted some. I even scrapped this story that had horrible daughters as I felt it was played out and honestly, a little trope heavy. I decided to dust this one off and submit it just because. This is the last one of my stories that includes betrayal by kids.
*****
My alarm went off at 4:45 as usual, but I was already up. I always woke those days before my alarm. I wasn't sleeping well and hadn't for a few months. I looked out my bedroom window and sighed at the darkness. I couldn't remember the last time the sun was out when I woke.
I started work at six everyday whether rain, shine, or otherwise, but I got off by four, so that was nice. I never missed any of my girls' activities.
I used the hall bathroom's shower to limit the noise and not wake my wife. She didn't wake up until the last possible moment before she couldn't make it to work on time, which was six. My two daughters woke at five and used the same bathroom I did. We had it down to the minute.
After my shower, I passed my first daughter, Maria, in the hall and kissed her still half-asleep cheek as she groaned her way into the bathroom for her shower. I peeked into my other daughter, Tara's, bedroom to make sure she was up, and she acknowledged my good morning greeting with her own groan.
Five minutes later, I was dressed and ready to start breakfast for my family. It was the same as every other day.
I made a pot of coffee, a pan of scrambled eggs, a plate of toast, and set out the girls' yogurts for them. They were old enough at fifteen and sixteen to do it themselves, but it was the last little bit of involvement I had in their lives. They had outgrown the daddy's girl days and I was merely an embarrassment to them at that point.
After eating and checking to make sure Tara was awake, I kissed my wife, Erin, on the forehead and shrugged off her pretending to be asleep. I pulled out of the garage lamenting how far I'd fallen from the graces of my family. The saddest part was, I didn't do anything to cause it. They simply became embarrassed and annoyed by my job.
I was a garbage man.
When I got the job a couple of years out of high school, I was ecstatic. It paid better than some of my friends were making after graduating college. I figured I'd do it until I found something else in one of the trades, but when I was told it was a Union job and I'd get the same benefits as the trades anyway, I stuck with it. I knew not having a degree as my friends had meant that I wouldn't ever be climbing any corporate ladders, and that was fine by me.
After twenty-five years on the job, I had a pension, a more than decent wage, great benefits, and was coasting towards retirement in five years when I hit fifty. At that point, I'd collect my full pension and could do whatever I wanted.
When I met Erin, she was working her way through college as a waitress. We fell in love, got married, and life was roses and raspberries for the next sixteen years. Then the unthinkable happened--my family, began to resent me.
I remember the day it happened. I was at Tara's softball game with Erin, and one of the new dads asked what I did for a living. When I told him I was his garbage man, his face screwed and then he laughed thinking I was joking.
My wife and daughter saw his reaction and that was the beginning of my fall. For the first time, they were embarrassed by me.
It wasn't like I was coming home from work smelling like garbage. I drove the truck and rarely had to get out anymore. The mechanical arm on the basket lifted the cans in the residential neighborhoods I was servicing. I hadn't done the hard stuff in almost a decade. Sure, I had some crappy times over the years, but it wasn't all that bad for a long time. I even had a shower at the yard before I went home every day.
My family never complained. They never hid what I did from our friends. It was just my job, no different than if I were a carpenter or policeman.
From that day on, life was different. Shortly after the incident, my wife got a promotion to management at her office. She worked in a bank, and her promotion netted her a nice raise. She already made quite a few bucks more than me, and that raise made the spread even greater. It didn't bother me though; I was proud of her, but I guess it bothered her.
She began to dress better and bought fancier jewelry. I didn't mind, she was still beautiful at forty-two and I liked to see her dressed up. Her long legs looked great in the skirts she began to wear, and the high heels propped up her butt nicely.
She also started buying my daughters more things. I think that's what may have turned the final screw after the incident. They no longer acted the same towards me, and were almost overdoing it, in their adoration of their mother. I hoped it was a phase, but that didn't look likely.
My girls were once daddy's girls. I coached their sports teams when they were young. I played dolls with them and had tea parties. Hell, I even let them paint my fingernails and style my hair when we played salon together. I was that devoted to them and wasn't embarrassed by any of it. Even when Erin would post the pictures on social media. I figured it was just what daddies did for their baby girls.
*****
After work, I walked in the door of my quiet house at the usual time. My wife would be home an hour later, and my daughters could be home in an hour or three, depending on what they had going on after school that day.
I went into the kitchen to get started on dinner and found a note on the table.
"I'll be home late. Having dinner with my team."
I sighed. I wished my wife would have told me that when I kissed her goodbye that morning. I would've gone out for a couple of beers with the guys after work.
I walked over to the fridge and saw a note from Tara.
"We're spending the night at Jenny's."
"Another Friday night alone," I said to my cat, Fido. Yeah, I know it was a dumb name, but it made my little girls giggle when we got him. I would have done anything to hear my little girls giggle again.
I thought about the last time Erin was home on a Friday and realized it had been months. There was always something, whether it was dinner with her team, drinks with the girls, managers blowing off steam at the bar, or other any other excuse she gave me. I began to wonder if she was having an affair.
She came home at ten and didn't seem drunk. I was, however. I spent the evening sitting on my recliner drinking away my sorrows one Jack Daniels at a time.
"Hello, dear," I slurred. "Glad you made it home."
"Are you drunk, Bill?" she asked.
"Probably. I didn't have much to do to keep me sober."
"Did you eat anything?"
I nodded and finished the whiskey in my glass in one slug.
"You're unbelievable."
I poured another glassful and raised it to her in a mock toast. "Just living up to expectations."
She shook her head and said, "Sleep on the couch then. I don't want you vomiting on me in the middle of the night."
"Yes, dear."
*****
I woke the next morning and heard voices. I was shocked the sun was out. I must have passed out because the empty glass was still in my hand resting on my thigh, and I never made it to the couch. As I regained consciousness, the voices became clearer.
"Even if you're cheating on him, he's still our dad," Tara whined. They obviously thought I was too passed out to hear them in the kitchen.
"I'm not cheating on him. I haven't done anything sexually with Jason yet."
"Yet," Maria moaned.
