“Mom?” My sixteen year old daughter called from the living room. I walked in to see her looking through some of my old photos. I stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “What is it, hun?” I asked. She looked at me and smiled, “Who’s that?” She asked, pointing to the boy in the picture. I walked over and looked at it, smiling sadly. I remember him... Actually, I never forgot him.
He’s the father of my daughter... I never told her who her father was, I didn’t think she’d really care, being that he wasn’t around. Besides, I was going to tell her when she was old enough to understand... and I think that now’s the time.
I sat down next to her and sighed. “Lillian,” I began. She looked at me, desperation in her eyes, wanting to know who he was. “That right there... He is your father.” I felt the familiar lump form in my throat. Her eyes widened and flickered back down to the picture. “He’s... my father?” She asked, her voice shaky and quiet. I swallowed hard and shut my eyes, “Yes.”
She closed the photo album and looked back at me sympathetically. “What happened to him?” I bit my lip, trying not to break down in tears. It was still a sensitive topic, even though it’s been sixteen years already. But she needs to know, she’s my daughter. “Mom?” She asked again, her voice soft.
I looked at her, “Well, we started out as best friends in high school. We were inseparable...” She listened to me closely as I went on.
*Flashback (Sixteen years ago)*
“Nathan, give it back!” I tried to reach over him as he held my diary above my head. He laughed, “Why can’t I read it?” Still trying to grab it out of his hands, I didn’t answer him. Doesn’t he know that diaries are supposed to be personal?
“Just give it to me!” I said, beginning to get annoyed. He smirked, “That’s what she said!” I rolled my eyes and laughed, not giving up to save my poor diary.
“Just let me read it! Pleeeease?” He did his infamous puppy eyes that I learned to ignore. “Nathan, there’s personal stuff in there!”
“So? We tell each other everything! What’s in here that could be personal?” He asked. He was right. We did tell each other everything. We never lied or kept secrets from one another, until I had to admit to myself that I was starting to develop feelings from him. That’s why have that diary, to write any new type of feeling that I felt when I’m around him. That’s why I didn’t want him to read my diary. Most of it was about him.
“Trust me, there are some things that you probably wouldn’t want to know.” I chuckled. He raised an eyebrow, “Like what?” He began to slowly open the diary. My heartbeat increased and I felt my cheeks begin to flush. I reached over and tried to grab it, but he pulled it away instantly. “Why can’t you tell me?” He frowned. I crossed my arms, “Because, Nathan! It’s personal!”
“I thought we could tell each other everything! Is it some kind of problem? I can help you!”
