The Sound Of Your Heart

TWENTY-SEVEN

ERIN

I let out a sigh of frustration as I stood in front of the mirror, contemplating my outfit. The once-confident version of myself seemed to have vanished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of self-doubt. It was a familiar feeling that had plagued me for years, but today it seemed stronger than ever.
 
My reflection stared back at me, highlighting every flaw, real or imagined. The crop top, once appealing, now seemed loud and attention-seeking. The skirt, a symbol of femininity and allure, felt tight and restrictive against my body. Suddenly, the entire ensemble seemed inappropriate, as if I was desperately trying too hard to be noticed.
 
Gazing at my reflection, I pushed the skirt down, trying to make it appear more modest. But as I held it at knee-length, it lost the essence of its original design, becoming a mediocre compromise instead. Frustration swelled within me as I realized that no matter what I did, my perception of myself would remain tainted by the voice of insecurity that haunted my mind.
 
"I can't wear this," I murmured to myself.
 
"Hell no, you're wearing that," I heard a man say right outside my door, his voice echoing through the room. As the sound reached my ears, I froze in confusion. I glanced only at my Dad's thunderous footsteps, which grew louder as he approached my room with a cup of coffee in hand. When he barged in, I was surprised to find him still dressed in his police uniform.
 
"Dad, why are you still in your uniform?" I asked, bewildered by his presence in my room and his serious expression. He went straight to my closet.

"I'll be working late tonight. My dear, I just came home to check on you," he replied, not looking at me while still searching for something in my closet.
 
"Does Mom know you're working late?" I asked, my voice laced with concern, as I watched him pull out various items from the shelves.
 
"Yeah, I knew she would be at the grocery store today, so I came over and told her," he simply replied. How did Dad know Mom was at the grocery store? Mom told me she left her phone at the office; there's no way Mom told her on the phone, right?
 
"Here, wear this," my dad said as he handed me a black hoodie with a New York print on it and a white tennis skirt. I stared at the outfit, perplexed. It was not what I was expecting to wear on such an important night.
 
"You're meeting that boy, Jacob, right?" my dad asked, his voice hinting at both concern and disapproval. His tone was strict, leaving me wondering what had triggered it.
 
"Yeah, but I can just stay at home if you like," I suggested, feeling the familiar rush of nervousness before a date. The thought of curling up in my cozy pajamas, safely tucked away from the world, seemed appealing at that moment. But Dad just smiled as he tenderly caressed my face, his eyes filled with encouragement.
 
"You're on a date, young lady," he replied with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So dress as casually as possible." His words caught me off guard. I had expected him to lecture me about manners or give some fatherly advice, but casual attire? Confused, I looked down at my outfit and back at him. Yeah, Dad's right, I looked too daring with this outfit.
 
"Dad, we're not going on a date, just... you know, a casual hangout like friends do?" I reiterated, trying to convince him once again. It was important to me that he understood my intentions.
 
Dad turned towards me, wearing a mischievous grin that mirrored my own. His eyes twinkled with fond memories as he looked into mine. "That's what your mother told your grandfather when she was your age," he chuckled, his voice laced with nostalgia.
 
I burst into laughter, picturing my mom as a carefree teenager trying to convince her dad of the same thing. It was comforting to know that my desire for a close friendship with my dad was rooted in family history.
 
"Who's the lucky guy?" I teased him, a mischievous smile spreading across my face. Dad tilted his head back and laughed heartily, his eyes twinkling with a mix of joy and nostalgia.
 
"Me." The word echoed in my mind as I blankly stared at Dad, trying to digest the weight of what he had just revealed. I didn't believe him at first; I thought he was playing some elaborate joke on me. But his hardened gaze and his serious expression made me realize that he wasn't kidding.
 
"Dad, you're joking, right?" I muttered, struggling to find the right words to express my disbelief.
 
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but his eyes remained steadfast. "No, my dear," he said, chuckling.