Chapter 1
Nothing was quite the same after Mom left. Still, you didn't blame her, not really. She had always been a free spirit, ever since you'd known her, you could only keep someone like that caged up so long. She'd stayed long enough to watch the daughter you'd made together flower into a beautiful young woman, then left you both in each other's care. Said eighteen year old daughter was a little less forgiving about the situation, declaring often that it was not right for her to have abandoned you. Yet, there was an air of understanding and appreciation of increased freedom in her complaints. During her early teenage years your home had been host to an endless cycle of conflicts between the two women you loved most. Now you and your daughter were closer than ever, joined by a shared absence and slowly working out how to stretch out your limbs and fill that void.
It was possible you were now TOO comfortable together, you and your only child. Equals in slovenly comfort and insular relaxation. Working from home as a writer meant you rarely had reason to get dressed up or leave your quiet, little farmhouse. A state of affairs that suited you fine and seemed an inherited quality. She would walk in from school on a summer afternoon and quite promptly drop all her smart uniform in the floor in a pile, stretching out the day's aches perfectly comfortably in just her bra and panties. Then she would meander around looking for snacks or entertainment before possibly finally finding a baggy t shirt to throw over herself. It was hard NOT to admire the slanting angles of her long legs as she lounged in some chair in the sun. Seemingly unaware of what a vision she produced just reading a book, half dressed and in complete comfort. She was so much like her mother in that way, blind to the constricting fear of others' judgement.
When you emerged from your study she would greet you with a beaming smile straight out of her childhood, daddy's princess since birth. She would stand up and demand a hug, asking how the words were flowing today. More often than not in fact she would choose to share your workspace with you. Sitting quietly and pursuing her own interests, yet always maintaining that bond of presence between you. If stuck for inspiration you could admire her at any moment, one brow raised below her short, dark, tomboy-cut hair.
Weeks went by, then months, since the third pillar of your family left, leaving the remaining two leaning inwards. Your daughter was spending more and more time at home, rarely going out with friends. You tried a few times to gently push her into socialising, but being someone more happy at home than out yourself it always felt a bit hypocritical. Besides she seemed happy enough, working through the situation in her own way and to be honest it was nice to have the company. Single life after so many years of intimate connection was... trying at times. You just couldn't bare the thought of going out to meet someone new.
You were musing over these things in the shower one day when you heard the door clatter open. Remembering to lock it was a habit never picked up in this household. "Oh, sorry Dad!" was the chirpy follow up, though there was no sudden sound of the door being re-closed. Instead the patter of footsteps came further in, followed by the distinct noise of the toilet lid being raised. Now, your bathroom was not the largest or most lavish of spaces. The shower/bath separated from the other facilities only by a thin and translucent plastic curtain. The condensation on this made any clear view impossible, but vague shapes and colours were certainly visible. And below this, where the steam did not reach, you could quite clearly make out a pair of bare feet, panties hooked between them, twisting together in a sort of awkward dance.
"Honey?" You enquire, now acutely aware of your own nakedness and her shifting blur not a foot away. "Couldn't you have waited till I'm done? Or used the other bathroom?"
"I was desperate though Dad, sorry." You hear the telltale tinkle of liquid hitting liquid. "Besides, it's not like you haven't heard me pee before. You always mention you had to sing to me when i was on the potty, usually at the most embarrassing times you can..."
It was true, you had used that story as one of those little moments of vindictive parenting one is allowed in revenge for all the other unfair advantages a child has over their parent in the battles of love. It would seem she had come to recoup those losses, though why now you could not guess. You heard her finish up and move to the wash basin before talking again.
"Anyway I don't see why you should be embarrassed by it. You and Mom shared a bathroom for years! 'Family shouldn't feel the need to hide from family.' That was one of the few things I agreed with her on! So..."
Suddenly a face appeared between the shower curtains, resplendent with a cheeky grin. "Move over and make room for me!" You were so stunned by her giggling confidence that there was no time to argue as the girl clambered in beside you, naked as the day you watched her enter this world. The water poured down around you both, rivuletting between her budding breasts. She had not quite yet filled out into the curves that would clearly mark her sleek womanhood, but the thin, angular form she held was perfect in itself. You tried your best to avert your eyes and hide your shame... but there was no denying the pull of her beauty. She laughed high and clear at your attempts to cover your crotch with a hand towel.
"Oh Dad, don't be like that! I've seen it all before. The internet exists you know... and it's not just boys that look at porn. Here, I'll turn around if that makes you feel better."
She did, but it didn't really. Now you were just presented with her round little ass, given a rosy glow by the hot water washing over it. Still, you were aware enough to notice a heavy slump that came over her shoulders in that moment. As if a weight had been sitting there, held off by sheer will until she'd led herself into this moment of exposure.
"Can you... can you wash my hair for me Dad? Like you did when I was little?" The laughter fell out of her voice into a soft, wistful sadness. A true voice, washed free of all pretences.
Again caught off guard, you paused, but then moved to comply. Pooling some shampoo in your hands, then gently swirling it into her scalp. You could feel her begin to relax even from the first touch of your fingers, awash with the tenderness of nostalgia.
"I still... miss her. You know... despite how angry she makes me... I miss what we used to be..." She shuffled back a little, into your arms, yet the strength began to build back up again behind her words. "But she's gone. We need to accept that, and move on. She left us both and we need to fill in the gaps for each other where she's missing."
Your magnificent daughter now turned around to look up at you and pulled her body into your's with a tight embrace. "I've never said thank you, Dad, for staying close to me... even when you were left behind to pick up the pieces... I'm going to make sure that never happens again! To either of us, okay?"