A second chance at true love

Chapter 2 - Teenage daughter

. Lucio.

.3 years later.



Frustrated, I run my hands through my hair. “Sofia,” I sigh and I do my best to hide my discomfort, my frustration, and my anger. But she’s her mother’s daughter and she knows exactly what’s going through me. Like her mother, she’s not afraid to call me out on it. Something that I have stimulated all these years, but also something that, as she gets older, I find more and more difficult.

“Dad,” She sighs in the same way. She crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. I should say something about her behavior. I’m her dad damn it. But I don’t. I understand her frustration too.

“I don’t know Sofia. I don’t know any of this.” The frustration can now be heard in my voice. I run my hands through my hair again. I want to pull them out of frustration.

She walks up to me and puts her hand on my arm. “I know Dad, but you also didn’t like me going alone with girlfriends, you didn’t want me to go with one of the aunts either. You wanted to do this yourself.”

Sofia is sixteen and has her first prom. This is a big deal. No one in the family has had to deal with this s**t. Everyone before me got guys. Sofia is the oldest girl. Alice, from Bella and Gene is three years younger than her.

Okay, not quite the truth, Grace had Lizzy from a previous relationship, but Lizzy had her mother, Grace. Grace had Chris and her sons to share her concerns with.

I’m alone and Sofia doesn’t have a mom to do this kind of s**t with anymore and I don’t share my concerns. Certainly not with Sofia and not like, in general. No one cares what my concerns are.

I look at my beautiful daughter. Her mother’s eyes and her mother’s hair.

She knows, I sigh.

“What friends?” I ask, and she knows she won. Her smile starts to come.

“With Melissa, her mother is going with us,” She says quickly. She knows she’ll have a better chance.

Melissa has been her friend for a long time, since she was in class with Melissa, three years ago. The girls clicked immediately and from that moment on it’s always ‘Yes but Melissa,’ or ‘With Melissa and her mother’.

I didn’t have to deal with that for years.

When Zita was alive, she always did things like that. She could tell me exactly who Melissa’s mother was, I… I don’t have a clue.

“What was her name again?” I try to recall one of the conversations I once had with my daughter or with Zita about this, but I don’t come up with anything.

Sofia nods. “Meredith DeKeyser got divorced and moved back to Cliffs five years ago. Previously lived in Dallas. Dad, I’ve told you this before.” She rolls her eyes.

“Oh yeah, I remember,” I answer.

Meredith DeKeyser. Zita doesn’t know her. This was after Zita’s time. The name says something to me, but I still don’t see a face in front of me.

DeKeyser is one of the larger law firms here in Cliffs and is working with two other major players in that field. I know that because I do business with one of the other big players.

“Melissa hates her dad now,” Sofia tells me. I nod, no idea why, it isn’t my business. She disappears back into the fitting room and continues to talk about Melissa and her father, taking off the dress in the meantime.

I also don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to pick out dresses with her for her first prom. But everything in this I find frustrating and fair is fair… I hate this.

Valentina offered to come with me, but I said I could do it. Christina offered to come with us, but I waved her away as well. “I’m her father, I can do this,” I told them. I have to laugh at myself, I’m her father, but I’m fooling everyone because I can’t do this.

“Okay, if Meredith doesn’t mind you coming along, I’m fine with it, but I want a picture of the dress before you buy it. You get my credit card and I don’t want crazy things.” I tell her sternly.

She comes flying out of the dressing room and she hugs me. “Thanks, Daddy!”

I hug her back and I smell that she has perfume on. Her mother’s bottles that she took from our bedroom and moved to her room. I hate it and my heart breaks again, not for me. But for her.

Me ‘loving’ Zita has always been little and since three years ago there has been mainly hatred. Hate that I was able to let go of it with the help of therapy. But the grief for my children will always be there. For Sofia who is not going through this time with her mother, but is stuck with me.

I see a bra strap coming out from under her sleeveless shirt and I know I need to talk to her about it.

But how, for heaven’s sake how? How do I ask my teenage daughter where she got that bra and if it is necessary? How do I do that without crossing a line? These are my business, right? What my daughter wears is my business. And whether it is necessary. Isn’t that f*cking creepy? That I talk to my daughter about her breasts? It’s all so f*cking complicated. There’s just no book for that, no questionnaire, nothing. Single dads everywhere over the f*cking world, figure it all out for yourself.

If Sofia wanted help from the women in my family, it was easier but she doesn’t want that either. She rarely asks Christina, my brother’s wife, or Jenna, my younger brother’s wife. My sister Valentina visits us a lot, also has daughters, much younger than Sofia, but still, they are daughters. But she doesn’t do this with anyone in the family, she doesn’t share anything.

I checked her bank account details and no crazy expenses were made. But my daughter wears a bra and it makes me f*cking nervous. She’s f*cking sixteen and the last time I wanted to have a conversation about bras and that other awkward topic.. sex.. she ran away and yelled that she would never talk to me again if I acted stupid again.

But when I was sixteen, I had to talk to my father about it. The chances of me getting a girl pregnant and things like that.

I rub my face with my hand, perhaps hoping that when I’m done rubbing the world will be easy again. But when I stop and look up, all I see is my daughter looking annoyed.

“Okay, let’s go home. I still have to run errands and I still have to cook.” I answer. Sofia nods.

We walk out of the store together and I can be happy these days that she is still kind of walking next to me. Usually, she shouts that she is ashamed of me and that she does not want to be seen with me, but today she almost walks next to me and I see it as a win. With a teenage daughter, you have to take what you get and I won’t give it back.

She even goes grocery shopping with me, we get dinner and she thinks for the first time about what she would like to eat.

I have so many questions, but I decide not to ask one. The last time I asked questions, her mood changed immediately and all the fun and sweet were gone.

“What time does Donato come home?” she asks. I look at the clock. “He’s coming in about an hour. He’s with Vince and Nick at the Ranch. Why?”

Sofia shrugged.

“Sofia, is there anything you want to talk to me about?” I begin.

She stops moving. She leans against the counter, biting her lip and shaking her head. “Nope. Absolutely not.”

Clearly, she wants to talk. I know my daughter. Maybe not as good as her mother could have been, maybe she wouldn’t have told her everything, but I know when my daughter is lying. I hope.

“Sofia, I really want you to know that you can tell me anything and I also hope you know that everything I ask of you, that I don’t do so to judge.” I start.

Her eyebrow goes up and I know I’m entering dangerous territory. I have to be careful now.

“Why, everything you ask me? What do you want to ask me?” Her eyes get smaller and she crosses her arms. Yep. Haven’t been careful enough.

“I just mean to say you’re my daughter, that I love you incredibly. This is all new to me. Just like it is for you, but I just want you to know that whatever it is, I’m here for you.” I tell her.

“Yeah, okay, you’re weird.” She sighs. “I’m upstairs.” She grabs her phone from the table and walks up the stairs.

“Yeah, good talk,” I answer, but she’s already gone.