The Moment I Knew

I had to remind myself to breathe.

I ran into the bathroom when the panic began to set in. It was the only place in that damn rented hall where I could steal a moment of privacy for myself. I don't remember much about the room - I only remember looking at the girl in the mirror and thinking that she couldn't possibly be me. She was too calm: her breathing was controlled, her curls were still in place. She was the complete opposite of how I felt in that moment.

Annie and Miranda followed me in. You remember them, right? They've been my best friends since forever. But I didn't want them around at that point. I just wanted to be left alone so I could think. So I could wonder about where you were and how you possibly could have lied to me. But they wouldn't leave. They always have been stubborn.

They looked so beautiful that night. Annie was in a strapless red number that barely brushed her knees, and her hair was perfectly straight and shiny. She wore her usual make-up - all in neutral shades of beige and gold - but she fancied it up by adding some sparkle. Miranda was wearing black, just like she always does, with all of her silver jewellery. She looked ready to go clubbing. Both of them were wearing three-inch heels.

Standing beside them, I felt like my own attempt at sophistication had fallen short. My pale blue dress looked too casual; my painted red lips seemed too pretentious. It made me wonder about what you would have said. Would you have liked them better than me? Everybody else always did, so why should you be any different?

I told them what was wrong. They did their duties as my friends and told me that I was overreacting, that you were probably just running late, but I could tell that they didn't believe this. They were just trying to make me feel better. So I forced a smile and pretended to believe them. I let them drag me back out onto the dance floor. I let them dance the night away while I spent every few moments looking towards the door, hoping that you would walk through wearing your brilliant smile and bringing apologies for being delayed.

But that door never opened.

We cut the cake at half-past nine. They made me stand at the front of the hall, under the Christmas lights that we'd hung from the ceiling. I might have enjoyed the moment if they hadn't all been singing "Happy Birthday". You know how much I hate that. It would have been all right if you were there, because I know you would have been by my side with an arm around me, a constant reminder that it would all be over soon. But you weren't there. That song seemed to last forever.

I cried. While they were singing to me, I cried. For the most part people thought I was crying because I was happy, but there were those who knew I wasn't - Mom, Annie and Miranda, my ex-boyfriend Taylor. They all knew the difference. And when they all approached me afterwards, I didn't know what to tell them. What was I supposed to say? It hardly seemed fair that I should be miserable because of one person - but I was. I was miserable because of you.

"You'll be there, right?"

"Yeah, baby. I'll be there."

But you lied. You never showed up, and I found out later that it was because you were with her. The new woman in your life, the one who you think can take Mom's place. You called me in the morning to apologise for not coming, but you never mentioned why. You said you were sorry, and I said I was sorry, too.

But you're not sorry.

I know that now, without a shadow of doubt. If you were sorry, you would have told me what was so important that you had to miss my sweet sixteen. If you were sorry, you would have apologised in person. If you were sorry, I knew that you never would have done it in the first place.

And that was the moment I knew.

I hope you're happy, Daddy. Maybe you should call me again when you really are sorry. I'll be waiting.

With love, your daughter,
Harriet.