This story features the love of a father and daughter; please be aware before reading. It is told from the viewpoint of a very innocent teen. All individuals are consensual and at least eighteen years old.
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Sprawled across the soft sofa, sharing a blanket with my older brother David, I casually flipped channels as the wind blew outside and the shows rambled on. It was an atypical weeknight in our suburban home. Mom was in the kitchen, preparing dinner; daddy was still away on business, and David... was annoying.
"Don't you have homework to do, creep?" I questioned loudly, hoping our mom would hear and force my older sibling to the demented hole he called a room.
"Whadaya gonna do about it, Abby?" he answered with a growl, kicking me underneath the covers and swiping the remote.
"Hey! I was watching that!" I exclaimed angrily, though I had no idea what show had even been playing. Only a year apart, David and I never got along.
"The hell you were, cow," he replied, turning the set to MTV.
We were near opposites; I was the "good-girl" type, which David continually teased me for, while he spent far too many hours in detention. Neither of us was much for sports, though I did make it on the cheerleading squad at the beginning of my senior year. However, it proved to be too time-consuming with my other activities and I dropped it before Christmas holiday.
Despite my achievements and activities, I was the archetypal loner. I spent much of my free time with my nose buried in a book in some dusty corner of the local library.
I had struggled through puberty as my body turned on itself. Once a gangly little girl, I'd filled out and sprouted curves almost overnight. I'd become embarrassed of my looks and shunned myself from my peers.
Irritated, I threw the blanket off and stormed to the kitchen.
"Helen, you'll have to figure it out on your own, I'm a little busy right now." I groaned.
Helen was mom's newest paralegal and had kept her life torturous since she was hired. As leading attorney, all mom's time was spent averting some law office disaster. She was consistently burdened with depositions and cases, leaving dad to raise the kids... at least when he wasn't on business trips. It was a frustrating situation for the entire family, though it seemed especially hard on daddy.
"Mom," I hinted quietly, pointing to the stove as a pan of water began bubbling over.
"Not now, Abby!" she whispered sternly, slapping my hand away. She'd never been much of a housewife, and could barely make coffee.
My parents met in their mid-twenties at a single's retreat, but married out of necessity when mom became pregnant with my brother. It was a marriage based solely on obligation.
As David got older, he sort of fell away from mom and dad. My brother spent nearly all his time with his friends, and he saw our parents as a means to an end.
But daddy and I had a special bond. Until the past year, dad had been the homemaker while we grew up. He spent his time cooking, cleaning, going to PTA meetings, helping with homework, and taking us to school functions.
I spent every afternoon with him; he'd become my best friend. It was a wonderful time for us, but that world crumbled away when he was forced to get a job to make ends meet. I felt I was losing him. Mom, of course, believed it was for the best and said I'd become too dependent.
Dinner was finished, the dishes were washed and dried, and we all burrowed ourselves in our rooms for the rest of the evening.
It was late and as the house quieted under the weight of another Monday night, I sat alone in my bedroom. The smell of dinner still wafted through the house, drenching the fabrics with an aroma mimicking a landfill.
Posters of far-away locations littered my walls, while college catalogues were strewn across my desk. A motor kicked on and heat began radiating through my bedroom vents.
Already warm, I moved to my window and opened it to let in a bit of the winter evening air. I found myself standing before the full-length mirror, looking at my frame as the breeze swirled around the room.
Staring, I suddenly felt very curious of the girl reflected back. Slowly, I pulled up my loose, white-cotton tee to just under my bust, further exposing my pink plaid pajama bottoms and bare torso. I examined myself, noticing every flaw and freckle in my pale, eighteen-year-old body.
Deftly, my fingers rolled across my abdomen, and I silently wished I were different. My shirt dropped as my hands cupped my breasts. I was ashamed of the '32B' that was printed on the tags of my bras. I could remember when my chest was completely flat and I stood taller than the boys.
A soft tap at my open door startled me and I whirled around.
"Hey princess," came a gruff voice in the darkness.
"Daddy!" I called, genuinely happy to see him. Nearly in tears at his homecoming, I ran to his side.
"Ugh," he groaned as my arms snaked around his waist, hugging him as hard as I could. "I'm happy to see you too, Abby."
"I didn't know you were coming home tonight," I murmured, burying my face in his striped button-down shirt.
He pulled me in close, his protective hands holding my head, and his fingers twisting in my long brunette strands as I quietly sank into his touch. With adoration, my blue eyes gazed up at him in the shadowed doorway.
"I wanted to surprise you," he said in a tender voice, gently pushing me to arm's length. He leaned back into the hall and I heard a rustle from a plastic bag. "I got these for you, sweetheart," he offered, producing a bouquet of a dozen pink roses.
I giggled at the sight, gingerly taking them from him. I hugged the flowers dearly, smelling the sweet fragrance that lifted from the velvet folds. "They're beautiful, daddy! And they're my favorite color! Thank you."
He smiled warmly, watching me treat the gift as if it were a precious gem. It wasn't until then I noticed his dark goatee was ashen and untrimmed, his brown eyes were bloodshot, and his clothes were wrinkled, holding creases from the long flight he'd just experienced. His body seemed to carry the weight of the world.
"Daddy, you should head to bed," I ordered sternly, though the command must have been amusing coming from my petite form. At six feet and one inch, dad towered over me by a solid foot and my slim structure paled in comparison to his toned, though not hulking, body.
Exhausted, he nodded. "You're right, pumpkin. Hop into bed and I'll tuck you in." Noticing the flowers still in my hand, he added, "I'll put your roses in some water for you."
I reluctantly surrendered my present and then pulled myself into my soft pink sheets.
"Good night, baby," he whispered while kissing my forehead and pulling the daisy comforter to my chin.
"Good night, daddy," I said in a low voice as he walked to the door, the pink blossoms dangling from his hand.
"Sleep well, princess. I love you."
