Daddy's Gone Away

Something I wrote on a whim.

I can’t stand it when you look at me that way.

Like I can do something, something to fix this. I wish I could baby girl, ‘cause there’s this big hurt in your eyes that I can’t stand to see. I know you feel like he abandoned you. I feel it too.

I don’t want you to hate him. ‘Cause a girl needs her daddy. You’re gonna need your daddy. I spent too long hating my father, blaming him, not wanting to need him. But a girl needs her daddy, baby girl, she needs him.

You stand there, barefoot on the old linoleum, in that little ballerina costume we bought you for your birthday, with that big hurt in your eyes. You stare up at me. The top of your head barely comes to the kitchen table.

You put your little hand on my knee and ask, “Momma, where’s Daddy?” My stockings are torn, and I can feel the coolness of your fingers on my skin.

I shake my head, a cigarette between my fingers. Smoke drifts toward the ceiling. There’s an open bottle of vodka on the table. “Your Daddy loves you very much, baby girl, but he’s gone away.”

I can’t stand it when you ask those questions.

They say that kids your age can’t understand this sort of thing. They say that you’ll blame yourself. I don’t believe that, though. I think you understand very much. It doesn’t take a lot to understand what it feels like to be left. What it feels like to know you couldn’t have done anything about it. But I know that I blame myself.

I blame myself ‘cause you’re hurting, baby girl. I blame myself ‘cause a girl needs her daddy to be around. She needs him to teach her how to fish, and how to ride a bike. She needs him to introduce himself to the first boy you bring home as ‘Sergeant’ even if he’s never been near a battlefield in his life. She needs him to do his most awkward best to be a comfort when she grows up and everything gets hard.

You climb into my lap and rest your little head on my shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, Momma,” you say.

I love your young optimism but truth is, baby girl, I don’t know that it will.

Aw, this was beautiful. And showy, very showy.

I call my sister baby girl, so this hit home. Loved it.

Hi Lauren. Lavvers in to review this time.

I could really relate to this story because my own father I haven't seen since I was seven. It really tugged at my heart and the way you wrote seems to emanate a very melancholy, lonely feeling. In such a short piece, you've managed to evoke a depressed feeling to your audience which is quite surprising.

There isn't a lot I can say, considering it's so short, but it was really emotional as I've clearly already stated above. It was a nice choice of narrator, the mother, because it really showed perhaps what a mother would be thinking in a situation such as this. And your writing style was very laidback, like perhaps a young mother would narrate. I'm not quite sure about the age of your narrator, but I'm gathering she's a younger mother? That's just a guess, of course.

There wasn't much to nitpick. Y'know, because it's quite short.

It was beautifully bittersweet.

Yours,
Lavvi

This is so sad. It makes me really glad that my daddy is ready to be hugged every night!

I love your choice of narrator. I am not sure about your use of slang, however, because sometimes it feels too smooth and sometimes it feels too choppy.

I also think it might be a little better if you have the little girl ask something after her mommy tells her that her daddy's gone away. Maybe something like, "Can I go with him?" or "When will he come home?" or something poignant like that.

Anyway! The point is, this is very lovely and, accordingly, I love it.

Paul here! I finally decided to procrastinate doing schoolwork get back into the habit of doing some reviews!

I really liked this piece. It felt poignant, and sad, honest somehow. The writing style was pretty much flawless, at least to me. It felt kind of like a poem that wasn't a poem. I guess I mean that it had vaguely poetic rhythm to it. It's kind of short, so there's really not much I can say about it. Due to the length, it might would have worked better as a poem rather than as a really short piece of fiction. You might want to consider adapting it into a poem, since I think the story would feel a bit more at home there. But since I know Jack and something else about poetry, you should probably take that with a grain of salt.

I really liked this, though! Short, poignant, and sad (but not too sad). Keep writing