Here’s a short story about a girl’s perception of her father at Daddy Date Night. Enjoy!
In photo (l. to r.) the author’s father, sister, and herself at Daddy Date Night 1993
Tina Andrews listened to the excited banter in the gymnasium, her mouth a tight line across her face. The thump of generation-old music beat against her chest amidst the scent of rubber and chlorine. At her table, four teenage girls and their respective fathers chatted about the massive centerpieces: an explosion of red and gold balloons with a sprinkling of matching confetti and miles of scissor-blade spiraled ribbon. Tina glanced over at her dad, Daniel, as he sat quietly in a dark suit and tie, rocking side to side like some church deacon enjoying the Sunday morning choir.
“Let’s dance,” Daniel said, like he’d experienced an Ah-ha! moment.
The scraping of his metal chair across the tarped floor jolted Tina like fingernails on slate. She swallowed her bite of cake, the once sweet buttercream…
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