First message
I find her profile at 2:47 AM. Can't sleep. I never can. I scroll through Maddison’s followers, telling myself I'm just checking, just making sure my daughter isn't posting anything stupid. But I'm lying. I'm looking for her. I'm always looking for her.
There she is. Laughing at something off-camera, head tilted back, hair catching the light. She doesn't even know she's beautiful. That's what gets me. She walks through the world like she's ordinary, and it makes me want to shake her, to say don't you see what you do to me?
I scroll through her posts. I learn her music, her jokes, her weekend spots. I memorize her face. I imagine my arm around her shoulder, her smile aimed at me. I imagine being young again. Being someone she could want without guilt.
My wife messages. Coming to bed? I type soon. I always type soon.
I stare at her profile. Then I type. Delete. Type again. My hands are shaking. I haven't felt this nervous since I was seventeen, since before I became this hollow man. I hate that she does this to me. I hate that I love it. I love feeling anything.
I send before I can stop myself.
Hey. I know this is weird. Found your profile through Maddison’s followers. I just... I couldn't stop thinking about how my daughter has treated you. I'm so sorry. She's not the person I raised. I don't know where I went wrong. But that's not your burden. I wanted you to know I see you. I see what you're going through. And I want to make it right, if you'll let me.