Her Father

All I hoped for was to be able to prove myself as a capable father. Getting divorced five months ago was hard, not to mention gaining custody of our only child, Megan.

Megan is still young, well I consider fifteen young. Yet, she's old enough to know what she wants. She said she wanted to live with me five months ago, but now, I can't tell if she wants otherwise. She used to be a happy girl, running around, laughing at things that shouldn't be laughed at. That's changed now. Her giddy laughter has turned to half smiles and optimistic attitude has disappeared. It was hard doing it on my own, so I got a nanny. I try to make her tell me what's bothering her, but she answers with a small "nothing," and walks away. I'm worried I'm not proving to be a good enough parent, so lately I have been trying maybe too much and as I realized later, the wrong way.

"Hey Meg, honey, look what I bought for you. They're new shoes, what do you think?" Meg smiled at me, hugged me and then walked off to her room. I just didn't know what was wrong, I thought I was being a good father. What else could a child want? I gave her everything.

"Daddy?" Meg questioned, walking into the kitchen. Her long brown hair was done in one french braid, most likely by Cara, our nanny. Her green eyes stared into mine as they always did. I never knew what she was thinking, for the color of her eyes were so deceiving.

"Yes?"

"Do I see mom this weekend?" It was as if she stabbed a knife into me every time she asked that question. I don't know why, for a daughter should be able to see her mother...