Why Do You Hate Me, Daddy?

"Wow, Gracie!" Monica said. "You look amazing!"

My dad was sitting on his recliner and he looked over when he noticed my sisters' reactions. His reaction was completely different. His eyes narrowed as he quickly took me in. I felt like I was going through a security checkpoint at the airport! When he reached my face again, his face full of disapproval, he asked, "Where the hell are you going dressed like that?"

Heat flooded my cheeks. I felt completely embarrassed. I should have expected his reaction, but it still had an instantly negative effect on my emotion. I fired back, "Dressed like what?" I was pissed.

He rolled his eyes at me, pointedly looking at my entire body. My outfit. Then he growled, "Like THAT." I felt like I had just been slapped in the face.

Fighting back tears, I grabbed my purse and pretended like I was looking for something. Then I muttered, "I'm going out with a friend."

"A male friend?" my dad asked.

What the fuck? His question pissed me off so bad that I lied immediately, "Yep. With a boy." Why did I lie? His eyes narrowed further and his lips seemed to be writhing. Angry at his judgmental assumptions, I asked, "What's wrong with me going out?"

"Nothing, Gracie," he said in his stern-dad voice. Then he added, "But dressed like that?" His disapproval was so strong it felt like the air in the room had just turned to smoke and I couldn't breathe.

"I can dress however the fuck I want!" I raised my voice.

Ally yelped at my language and Monica gasped.

"GRACIE!!!" my father bellowed, his eyebrows rising onto his forehead.

Growling in frustration, I stormed out of the room, brushing past his chair and hitting his elbow on my way. I didn't slow and I didn't apologize. He didn't say anything as I walked out the front door and slammed it behind me. I really hadn't thought this through. Checking my phone, I saw that the Uber driver was still fifteen minutes away. How was that possible? But there was no way I was going back in that house. I couldn't take another second of my father's irrational comments. Fuck him.

As I waited impatiently for the driver to show up, a part of me wanted my father to come out and confront me. Just so I could shout at him and call him an asshole. But he never showed his hate-filled face. Good. I was seething even as my driver finally rolled up in front of my dad's house and I got into his car. The club was thirty minutes away, so I had a lot of time to stew. Fortunately, the Uber driver wasn't much of a talker. I was in no mood to talk to a random dude.

Fuck I needed a drink.

[Ch 10. Counsel.]

Seeing Katie again was like a breath of fresh air. We had been really close in junior high but started to grow apart in high school. I told her all about my year at college and she told me how she was taking the first year off but planned to go to a local community college next semester. It was relaxing to finally have something different to think about than my dad's hatred of me.

Katie knew one of the bartenders so we were able to get some drinks while we chatted and danced. The night went on and I felt myself loosening up. We danced to I don't know how many songs. We talked about things from our childhood. I even laughed a few times! And slowly, I drank enough to the point where I started to feel tipsy. Ok, so maybe I got tipsy in the beginning. By the time ten o'clock rolled around, I had a pretty strong buzz going. I was happy about that. It had been a few months since I drank anything, so I was feeling pretty good.

Until Katie pushed me in a direction I wasn't ready to go.

"Ok dude," she said when we got back to our high-top table near the bar. The music was really loud, but I could still hear her since we were across the club from the big speakers. Sucking on a tiny straw, I gulped down another mouthful of my drink as I stared at her. When she saw she had my attention, she asked, "So what's up with you?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, taking a deep breath and pausing from my drink.

"Dude," she said. "Something's bothering you."

I stared at my friend, blinking. Then I sort of deflated and said more quietly, "Is it that obvious?"

Katie nodded at me and then wrapped her lips around her straw, sucking in. I couldn't help but stare at her glass as I watched the liquid rapidly disappear. It was almost empty. Her cup made a slurping sound as she drained the rest of the alcohol and then she pulled her head back, swallowing while she stared at me. I kept staring at her empty glass. There were only a few ice cubes left at the bottom.

"Well?" she asked.

Sighing, I shook my head and then spilled the main thought swimming through my brain. "My dad hates me."

"Seriously?" she asked.

When I nodded and then leaned forward to grab my straw with my lips, she whistled softly and stood. While I drained the rest of my drink, she put a hand on my shoulder and then said, "I'm gonna get us some more drinks."

Katie disappeared and I finished my drink. A few minutes later, she returned with two more of the same drinks we had just finished. I didn't even know what they were! It tasted sweet, but was pretty strong with some kind of liquor. Vodka maybe? I didn't care. When she set my fresh glass in front of me, I immediately leaned over and took another swig through the tiny straw sticking out of it.

The music changed to something softer. Quieter. The timing was perfect, even if I didn't really feel like talking. But Katie took advantage of our newfound intimacy and prodded, "Is this like a recent thing between you and your dad?"

Shaking my head, I confessed, "No. It... he's hated me since I was little."

My friend's eyes opened wide in shock. "What? Seriously? How? I mean--what? How little?"

Shrugging, I took another drink and then said, "Since I was like... twelve?"

"Oh fuck dude," she said. Then she took a long pull on her drink, draining half of it in one suck. She swallowed and then wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Staring at me, she started shaking her head slowly. "I'm so sorry," she said softly.

Tears started rimming my eyes and I blinked several times to make them go away. Taking another drink, I said, "It's ok. I'm used to it."

Katie whistled softly and then leaned over the table, closer to me. When I looked at her, she was smiling. "You know what I always do when shit like that happens?"

Frowning, I asked, "Your dad hated you, too?"

She laughed, shaking her head. Then she said, "No, I just mean in general. When someone is weird toward me."

"Oh," I said. Then I asked, "What do you do?"

She stared at me so intently that I felt like the rest of the club was disappearing around us. It was suddenly difficult to breathe. She had a slight smirk on her face, like she knew something I didn't know. Blinking, I kept staring at her, waiting for her to answer.

Finally, Katie said simply, "I confront the shit out of it."

"Uh," I muttered, leaning forward to grab my straw again. I missed several times before I grabbed it between my lips and started sucking more alcohol into my mouth.

"Go ask him," she said. "Point blank."

Swallowing, I just stared at her. Ask him? "What? Ask him?"

She shrugged and lifted her hands, palms up. "Yeah, dude. Just ask him straight out. 'Why do you hate me?'"

Frowning, I stared at my glass. It was less than half full. "I don't know," I said quietly.

"What's the worst that can happen?" she asked. Then she sucked on her straw and drained the rest of her drink. Damn. How many of these had we drank tonight? I was feeling more than tipsy.

What was the worst that could happen, I wondered to myself as I grabbed my straw again. I only drank a little before pulling my head up and saying, "I guess the worst is that he would kick me out? I have no idea."

Katie shook her head at me, looking serious. Then she said my name softly, "Gracie."

I drank another gulp of my drink before looking up at her. "Hmm?" I asked.

She was staring at me intently again. "You gotta do it. This shit is gonna eat you up inside all your life until you figure it out."

Sighing, I closed my eyes. Oh man, that wasn't a good idea. The room wasn't exactly spinning, but I realized that I was way more intoxicated than I thought. Fucking hell. Finally, I opened my eyes again and stared my friend in the eyes. She never wavered. She looked so certain.

"Fine," I said, leaning forward one last time and draining the last liquid from my glass. Two gulps later, I was done. Then I said softly, "I'll go confront the fucker."

Katie smiled a big grin and clapped me on the shoulder. "That's the spirit! Now, let's get one last round of drinks before you go apeshit on your old man. Trust me, you'll thank me for it!"

With a groan, I nodded at her. By the time I left the club and climbed into my Uber, my vision was blurry.

[Ch 11. Confrontation.]

The Uber ride home was emotional for me. I cried almost the entire time. Jesus. How had I turned into such a sappy chick in the span of a week? It felt like I was riding a roller coaster, except the highs were actually lows. So all I got was a shitty ride. Fuck this.

By the time I walked up to the front door of my dad's house, I was fired up about confronting him. The alcohol probably didn't help. Stumbling my way into the house, I dropped my purse and then almost fell myself when I tried to grab it. Irritated, I swung my hand toward the handle and nabbed it, then walked unsteadily into the living room. The house was quiet. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I saw that it was after midnight.

When I managed to focus on the entire room, I noticed my dad sitting in his recliner. His eyes were open, so he was clearly awake. The tv was off. Somehow that seemed like a bad sign to me. He was staring at me, not saying a thing. Fuck. Had he waited up for me? Trying my best not to show how drunk I was, I took one step at a time and walked further into the room. When I felt things starting to spin, I bent over and deliberately set my purse down on the coffee table.

Straightening, I looked at my dad. His face was completely unreadable. Did he know I was--

"You're drunk," he said, matter-of-factly.

Immediately shaking my head, I denied it, "I only had a little to drink."

He frowned at me as I walked to the couch and practically fell onto it. Then we shared a few minutes of complete silence. In my head, I tried to remember what I was supposed to do. Oh yeah, I was supposed to confront him. Ask him why he hated me. That's what Katie had counseled me to do. It seemed right at the time, but now that I was sitting there with him in the same room as me, doubt crept in. I'm sure the alcohol wasn't helping.

"So," he said after a long bout of silence.

"So?" I asked, as if he was asking me something. That just made his frown deepen.

Clearing his throat, my dad asked, "Did you... enjoy your night?"

Blinking at him, I wondered just what exactly he thought I had done tonight. Oh yeah. When I left, I told him I was going to see a guy. He probably assumed that meant I was going out to hook up. To get laid. Wow. He really didn't know me at all, did he? As we sat in silence, his question still unanswered, he started checking me out again. Checking out my outfit, that is. The disapproving look on his face was just as clear as it had been when I left a few hours ago.

Finally, I said, "Yeah, it was amazing."

He scoffed at me, looking away. I wanted to cry. He was judging me and I didn't even do the thing he assumed I had done. That was it, wasn't it? He disapproved of me. That included every choice I made about anything and everything. Even when he didn't know the choices I really made. God damn him. My anger rose.

Opening my mouth, I blurted out, "Why the fuck do you hate me so much?" I was breathing heavily.

My dad shook his head at me, still frowning. Then he looked away and closed his eyes. I glared at him defiantly. But I refused to relent. Staring daggers at him, I waited for him to answer instead of trying to clarify my question.

At last, he spoke softly, "Gracie, I don't hate you. What are you even talking about?"

I opened my mouth to say something but then closed it and frowned instead. It didn't make sense. Of course he hated me. Rolling my eyes, I asked, "Why do you treat me like you don't want to be around me?"

My father sighed and when I looked at him, he had his eyes closed again. Then he said softly, "Look, I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but it's not that I don't want you around."

"You sure have a funny way of showing that," I said, my voice sounding irritated. When he didn't answer, my frustration rose. "It doesn't take a god damn rocket scientist to figure it out."

"Well you're not exactly easy to get along with," he fired back, his voice rising in pitch.

I wanted to throw my arms up in frustration, but instead I said, "I see how you treat Monica and Ally."

My dad sighed again.

"What then, daddy?" I asked, on the verge of tears. The alcohol was not helping even a little. The room wasn't exactly spinning, but my emotions felt like they were. Sniffling, I asked, "What did I do that made you feel this way about me?" I couldn't help the tears that started trickling from the corners of my eyes.

"Look," he said after a minute. He wasn't looking at me. Then he added, "I don't know how to even say it... I... you didn't do anything wrong."

My tears started flowing a little stronger. My voice was full of frustration when I said, "Obviously I did or you wouldn't act this way toward me. Treat me like you don't want me around."

"You act like you don't want to be here!" he retorted, raising his voice. That only made me cry harder.

"I'm not stupid, dad," I said, fighting back a sob that wanted to escape. Then I added more quietly, "I see how you are with them."

"With who?" he asked. "Your sisters?"

Nodding, the sob finally let loose but I managed to stifle it halfway through. Feeling bitter, I answered his question with another question, "Why don't you love me too?"

He stared at me, watching me cry. Shouldn't he be comforting me? I was his daughter! But he just looked, letting me heave on the couch as I tried to hold back the waterfall that was threatening to erupt from my eyeballs.

After a long interim of silence, he spoke in a near whisper, "I love you too much."

"What the hell does that mean?" I asked. Fuck.

My father squirmed in his chair, looking away from me. The light was dim in the room but I swear his cheeks looked flushed. What the hell did he have to be embarrassed about? I probably shouldn't have been confronting him like this while I was intoxicated. But it was too late to back down.

"Dad?" I asked, staring at him intently. I really wanted him to answer my question.

He cleared his throat and shook his head a little before saying, "Never mind. I don't want to talk about this."

"Why not?" I asked, heated.

"I... I can't," he said.

Frowning, my thoughts started doing summersaults in my head. I started connecting the dots. What I had come to realize over the past week seemed all too true. I voiced them without thinking, "Is that the reason you hate me? Because I remind you of mom?"

"No," he answered immediately. Then he looked over at me, his eyes dropping down to my outfit once more. His cheeks were definitely red. But what I had mistaken earlier for embarrassment was actually anger, I realized. He was still mad about how I was dressed. He turned his head away, like he couldn't stand to look at me. Swallowing, he spoke into his lap, "I mean, sure you remind me of her. But that's not--"

"What then?" I interrupted him. I had to know what it was. God damnit, I was desperate to know!

He didn't answer for a long time, but finally spoke. His voice was raspy, like he was the one crying. Fuck that if he thought I would feel sympathy for his uneasiness. "It's not easy for me to talk about," he said.

What wasn't easy for him to talk about? My frustration rose to a fever pitch. I was seething. Fuck this conversation. It was going nowhere. I didn't understand what he was getting at. What he wouldn't tell me. Fuck his discomfort. There was no good reason for him to treat me like he had for almost ten years. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't want to look at him anymore.

Standing, I spoke with a voice dripping with scorn, "Fine, if you don't want to tell me then I'll just keep assuming it's what I always thought." Wiping tears from my eyes, I started walking across the room toward the basement door. When I reached the hallway, I said without looking at him, "I know I'm just not good enough for you." I started to sob and then added, "I'm not good enough to be your daughter."

My feet carried me right to the doorway and my hand started reaching out toward the doorknob before he spoke and I froze.

"Gracie," he called my name gently.

When I looked at him, he was staring at me. The room was so dim, all I could see was his eyes. They seemed to gather the small amount of light from the room, glistening in the darkness. When he saw me staring at him, he said quietly, "I'm sorry."

I held his gaze for a good five seconds before opening the door and starting down the stairs. Tears streamed down my face all the way to my bed. I didn't even bother changing into my pajamas as I pulled the covers over myself. It took me over an hour to finally fall asleep.

[Ch 12. Misery.]

My life became a living hell over the next two weeks. After my confrontation with my dad, which didn't resolve a damn thing, he seemed even more standoffish toward me. Which just added salt to my wounded pride. And deep down, I still couldn't shake my own feelings toward him. My emotions were a confusing mess that I couldn't make any sense out of. Slowly, I sank into despair.

I spent a lot of time in my room, avoiding the rest of the family altogether. My sisters tried coming to my room in the basement to cheer me up multiple times, but I was so lost in my thoughts, they eventually just left without helping at all. I knew they were upset about that. Ally even asked me where her "cheerful sister" went. I didn't have an answer for that, as much as I truly wanted to climb out of my misery.

One night, a little more than two weeks after my semi-argument with my dad about why he doesn't like me, I was up late. I couldn't sleep. All I could do was toss and turn just like the thoughts in my head. But I decided something. I needed to get my father out of my damn head. And the only way I could think of to do that was to try to get a boyfriend.

So I signed up for an online dating service.

I was surprised at how many DMs I got over the next week after posting a picture of myself. Of course, the fact that I couldn't find a decent picture of myself on my phone forced me to snap a new one. And I went super lame and took one of me lying in my bed. Maybe that was the wrong message to convey, but oh well. It worked. At least it seemed to attract some interest.

The messages I got were all over the map. From obvious "hook up" DMs to messages from simps clearly looking to schmooze their way into my good graces and make me fall for them. But I didn't want anyone like that. I had zero interest in a guy who would inundate me with "compliments" that all sounded sort of automatic. It would be like telling a girl who really couldn't sing well that her voice was beautiful. It was a whole new level of ass kissing that made me gag.

So, no simps for me.

After seeing just how many messages I was getting, I didn't even bother sending any myself. Two weeks in, I had received over sixty DMs. And not one of them piqued my interest. Not even a little. Ok, maybe one. One guy was crazy hot. And I mean crazy. We ended up chatting back and forth one night until almost three in the morning. But when I told him I needed to go to sleep, he asked me if I wanted him to join me. I rolled me eyes and then almost screamed in frustration. But in the back of my head, I was half tempted to go for it. Maybe having a one-night stand was just the thing I needed. A good plowing to help me forget all about my father.