I had finished most of my homework and turned on a movie. But I couldn’t concentrate. A persistent ache filled my chest. I needed Daddy.
My inner voice began to chastise me.
Don’t be so needy and greedy. Just because you’re a little doesn’t mean you’re the center of the universe. Daddies have needs, too. They have important things to do.
My inner voice was right. Plus, I had seen Daddy today. At his office. I didn’t know that was his office. He’d never told me the name of his firm. I only knew it was big and important and downtown.
I remembered every detail of our encounter. But now my memory came back filtered through a darker lens. Daddy Preston had been almost shocked to see me. No, hewasshocked. Surprised at the very least. That shouldn’t have mattered. Why should he expect to see me there?
His body language was a little stiff. He didn’t come toward me or reach out at all. He’d told me early on in our relationship that he was out to his co-workers, so he wasn’t hiding in that regard.
I tried to remember more. What had I said? Only that I was a witness. I guess that surprised him, too. I’d never spoken of it to him because, quite frankly, the case had taken over a year to get this far. I’d sort of forgotten it was a fairly big deal. Maybe he was upset I hadn’t said anything to him, but I was told I couldn’t talkabout the Bremerton/Johnson case by the prosecutor who was handling it. Daddy should know that was standard procedure. He couldn’t be mad at me. Not for that. Not for anything, really.
But his body language had been stiff, his eyes distant.
Something had happened between that moment and his late text.
I had to believe it wasn’t about me. But I couldn’t know for sure and it hurt. Badly. My chest ached.
In bed, I tossed and turned. If I did sleep, I’d wake constantly, my arms stretched out to touch Daddy. But he wasn’t there. I’d slept at his house so many nights I kept having to remind myself I was in my own bed, not his.
When morning came, I checked my phone. Nothing.
I went to class and couldn’t pay attention. Every five minutes, I looked at my phone just in case I had missed a text from him.
I had work at six and did my job on auto-pilot.
Mateo noticed and commented. “What’s up with you tonight? You’re not making eye contact with the customers. You’re barely speaking.”
“Nothing. Just tired.”
Mateo laughed. “Your boyfriend’s keeping you up late, eh?”
“It’s not that.”
“What, then?”
I didn’t want to talk. Not to anyone. “Like I said, I’m just tired.”
I got back to my apartment at about 12:15 a.m. Even when I turned on all the lights, it seemed dark and shadowy. Not cozy or warm like when I was with Daddy and he made a fire in the fireplace.
Still not one peep from him. All day.
My body was heavy as I fell into bed. I slept, but it was strange sleep. Like my mind was sad. All the dreams I couldn’tremember when I woke left me with a lost feeling. They must’ve been sad, too. I was glad I didn’t remember them.
I went through the motions of student and work, but my mind was not present. Three days passed.
Why no texts? Daddy had not broken up with me. He’d said he would explain more when we saw each other again. But when would that be? Why wasn’t he telling me what was going on?
Then a horrible thought came over me like being doused in cold water. Even though our relationship had been growing more wonderful every day, could Daddy Preston be having second thoughts? And if he was, maybe he didn’t want to tell me. Maybe he thought he was sparing my feelings by just ghosting me.
Was that it? Was Daddy ghosting me? Did he not really want to see me again?
I was alone in my apartment when that realization hit me. I fell on my bed and started to sob. Loud, ugly sobs.
My crying stopped only when I was too exhausted and dehydrated for tears or wails.
Stupidly, I checked my phone. As if I could will Daddy Preston to contact me. The blankness on the screen devastated me.
