Daddy Loves You

i haven't written in ages... this came out randomly just now. i'm sorry if this bleeds your eyes/brain. any comments or criticisms are loved, thanks.

"One day, I'm going to be completely cynical."

I read this phrase once more before I close the beaten notebook. It was old; the spiral was dented out of shape at this point. On first, second, and millionth glance, one would never guess it to be my precious memories. I bought it cheap for I had run out of notebooks to write in. It was an easy fix to my craving. Journaling became my teenage job... to myself. I was my own boss.

Somehow, I always end up circling around in my own thoughts, and the center point always happens to be... me. I don't like it, yet I can't help it. It makes me want to get my ass out of this leather chair, sell it, and buy some hungry child in Africa a meal. Maybe then I could lay back in peace in my chair, thinking back on my life?

"Hey, Dad, I'm going out!"

Cadence always interrupts my thoughts, which is a good thing. Worrying about my daughter has lessened my thinking of myself, and I can never thank her enough for it. However, I will never admit this to her.

"Where to? And who are you going out with?" I know that this will draw some protest, maybe some "I'm a big girl, whaaa!"But I like to know this kind of stuff. A father deserves to know, right?

Sure enough, Cadence halts from wherever she is shouting. I can tell she actually halts instead of simply not moving anymore because when Cadence halts, she makes sure the air is absolutely still. Sometimes, I think I helped to birth a goddess, or a witch.

I know now that she was almost out the door, for she clanks from there through the living room and up to the study room (presently occupied) where she flings open the door. I must give her credit for moving so fast in those tight jeans. I know it's a new fashion, but how do they move in them? Her hair is up into some fancy little ditty and she's wearing these bangles on her wrist. Her face was attacked by elves. Clown elves, I'm sure. Darling, is that really necessary? I won't say it for I don't want to offend her... yet.

"With friends," she replies. Her perfectly thinned eyebrows arch their backs, ready to pounce at any moment.

"Ah. Friends." I try to feel old and wise. I feel like I should be puffing a cigar, saying witty remarks that make my daughter think a little bit for herself. The best I can think of, however, is, "Well, you look nice. Too nice."

"I'm sorry I look good when I leave the house." Her arms are now crossed stubbornly across her chest and her jaw tenses. Her eyebrows look as if they wanted to break free from her forehead and fly away. "Shouldn't you be out or something? On your own date, instead of being crochety and all cynical about everything?"

Here was my moment. I have many moments with Cadence, many times when I may impart my wisdom, yet somehow the advice sounded way better when those single fathers on the sitcoms said it to their daughters. Which one shall I pluck this time? I can't think of them all now... I'd seem silly if I sat here wondering about it. "You don't have to dress like that or put that... stuff... on your face to impress a boy. Don't tell me about love. You're not in love He's not in love with you, he's in love with his di-"

"Shut up, Dad! I'm a big girl, okay?" Her eyebrows plunge in for the kill, aiming for the middle of her nose. "I know how to handle myself! I'm leaving!" And with that, she clanks out, her bangles jingling angrily.

There is always silence in my apartment after Cadence storms out, the kind of silence where the outraged footsteps are still heard, though muffled and far away, and the cars from the main road are still honking mad at the terrible drivers all around them. The silence is everything that existed while Cadence was here, except without her.

I think I am supposed to yell at her. Or tell her to explain more to me of where she is going. She is three years shy of being an adult- I should be the one to firmly tell her what she should be doing. Yet, I don't want her to hate me. I just hope my feeble advice somehow has helped her stand on her own two feet. Does it strike a chord in her?

I am sitting in my leather seat, alone. I will probably open my old journal and delve some more into that silly little skull of mine from long ago. Then I will shuffle my way to the shower, scrub myself a bit with soap, and towel myself dry. I will carry on to stare at myself in the mirror, examining my every move as I swiftly brush every tooth, though I must look away when I spit. Spitting is not attractive to look at anyway.

I sit here, alone, thinking of how wise I was so long ago. Did I go back in time to tell myself how I would end up? Maybe. All I know is that I will retire to bed early on this Saturday night. Cadence will sneak in, relieved that her father cared enough about her to fall asleep before her curfew, and quietly go to bed herself. I, I will lay awake in my bed, agonizingly until I hear her obnoxious bangles clank into her bedroom. For, of all the useless women in my life, she is the one I fear in love.

I enjoyed it. I thought it was well-written and delivered an interesting perspective from a parent who faces a challenging dichotomy. Before I highlight some of the things I really liked, though, there are a few grammar errors that ought to be cleared up to make your story flow as it should.

One day, I'm going to be completely cynical.

This should probably be in italics, since it is written, and he is not actually saying it aloud. It doesn't make much of a difference, but traditionally, I have found that writing is italicized rather than put in quotations.

I bought it cheap, for I had run out of notebooks to write in.

That comma would make this sentence grammatically correct, but I would suggest scrapping this sentence or changing the wording. It just sounds a little too colloquial for my taste. Try to not use the word cheap, it's a bit too simple.

It makes me want to get my ass out of this leather chair, sell the notebook, and buy some hungry child in Africa a meal.

This sentence is at quite a distance from the description of the notebook, so when you said "sell it," I honestly thought you meant "sell my ass," and I found it pretty funny. It took me a moment to realize what "it" actually was.

I know now that she was almost out the door, for she [clanks] from there through the living room and up to the study room [(presently occupied)] where she flings open the door.

This was a bit of a weird sentence for me. First of all, I am not feeling the word "clanks." That's not a word I have typically associated with the motion of a teenager. It is much more likely to remind me of kitchen pans and pots striking against one another. I would suggest changing this word. I would also change the parentheses in that sentence. It sounds akward and, for me, disrupts the flow. I suggest wording it in the sentence differently, somehow without parentheses.

Her hair is up into some fancy little ditty, and she's wearing these bangles on her wrist.

Comma.

Her face was attacked by elves. Clown elves, I'm sure.
"Darling, is that really necessary?" I won't say it for I don't want to offend her... yet.

I would actually put that thought in quotation marks to make it seem as if he said it for a moment.

Don't tell me about love. You're not in love. He's not in love with you. He's in love with his di-"

I think you meant to put those periods there.

And with that, she [clanks] out, her bangles jingling angrily.

I still don't like this word, but it a bit more sense here, since you are referring to her bangles, which could most obviously make a clanking sound. You still are, though, saying she is "clanking out," rather than her bangles. I would consider changing it, but it's not necessary.

I have a few criticisms that aren't grammatical. One is the notebook. I would like even more detail on what's inside of it and its significance to the father. Perhaps explain his thoughts on the opening statement? The only other is that Cadence felt a little too static of a character for me. I would have perhaps wanted her to fill more than a stereotypical teenager girl role, but it still works out, since the focus is on the father.

Now that those things are out of the way, let me reaffirm that I really liked this. The character of the father and the conflict that was presented to him was dynamic, and it really sparked some thought. Just tweak the grammar and some detailing a bit, and I can't deny that you have a solid, intriguing story here.

Nice to see you writing again!

I shall be concise: I didn't like the beginning, liked the middle, and thought the ending didn't resolve anything. For the beginning, it didn't seem like he was a single dad or even a male at all, if that makes sense. He seemed like a teenage girl. To make him sound older, have him accidentally come across his old notebook when cleaning or something. Or maybe he had accidentally found it. But for him to deliberately find it sounds like he is still in his teenage years, looking at his younger self for guidance, when that doesn't really happen that much.

The ending seems a bit unresolved. I would like to see him do something after his daughter stomps out. Also, the last line makes it sound like they have a strange father/daughter romance, which is odd, so you might want to change that.

Hope this helps! And once again, I'm glad to see you writing. A little rusty, but you've remembered a lot. A couple of more short stories and you'll be up to par in excellence again.

thanks for the critiques from both of you! haha yeah i'm reallllllly rusty. but i know snoink will come along and save me from failing completely xD. thanks again for reading =)