The Dance
Twenty Years Ago
Maggie
It was the night of the father-daughter dance when I finally lost it.
It had been a month and a half since Dad left, but I’d been holding out hope that tonight would be the night he came home.
He knew about the dance. He agreed to take me when the slip came back at the start of the year. We signed up. I had a dress—purple with navy blue flowers embroidered on.
I had daydreamed about him remembering the date of the dance and showing up on our doorstep with a corsage for me and open arms ready to twirl me around before we went to the elementary school.
It was just in the gymnasium. It wasn’t anything special. But I had been so excited to spend a night alone with my Dad. I thought I could impress him, if I finally had him to myself.
I could recite all the math facts I’d learned. I would wow him with how mature I spoke, so he could be proud of me like he was of Liam. I even practiced dancing alone in my room so I wouldn’t step on his feet during the dance.
It was going to be a good night.
And even though he’d been gone and we hadn’t heard from him, I got ready anyway. He wouldn’t let me down. I knew he wouldn’t.
But the clock ticked, and even though my eyes were glued to the window, my Dad’s car never pulled up.
I waited. And I waited. And I waited.
And then my mom came out, her own eyes still red from crying.
I turned away from her, angry at the very sight.
It was her fault Dad was gone. She was the one he left.
Not me. Not Liam. It couldn’t be us.
I couldn’t stomach the idea of it being us.
“What are you doing, Maggie?” she said, watching me as I stood by the window.
“I’m waiting for Dad to take me to the dance,” I told her, feeling stupid as I said it. “He knows it’s tonight.”
“Oh, baby,” my mom said, drying her eyes on the sleeve of her ratty sweatshirt. “I’ll take you to the dance. Let me get ready.”
“No!” I shouted, furious with her. “I want to go with Dad!”
Why would I want to go to the dance with my mother? What would I say when my friends asked why I brought her instead of my Dad? How would I feel seeing everyone with their fathers when I didn’t even know where mine was?
No. If my Dad wasn’t taking me, I wouldn’t go at all.
“Maggie, your hair,” my mother said, coming to touch my fresh curls, still smelling half fried from the heat. “Did you use the curling iron all by yourself?”
I nodded.
“You look so pretty, baby,” my mom said, reaching out to hug me.
I pushed her away. I didn’t want her touch. I didn’t want anyone’s.
Everyone disappointed me.
Dad left. Liam was never home. Mom had retreated to her room.
Everyone left me, and I hated them all for it.
I heard the sound of a car pulling up, and my heart pounded with anticipation as I turned my attention away from my mother and back out the window.
Then, it broke all over again, because I’d been foolish enough to hope.
It wasn’t him. It was just Liam, getting dropped off by his friend’s mom. I watched him walk up the path, hockey bag in tow as he took each step with a heavy foot.
He never wanted to be home anymore.
I didn’t either, but I had nowhere to go.
And I had to be home, in case Dad showed up. I had to be here to tell him we needed him to stay.
I started to sob. I couldn’t help it.
Everything was wrong, and I had a feeling it was never going to get better.
And worse than the realization of that was the loss of hope that had kept me going. I had only survived this long because of it. Now, that was shattered, too.
The door opened and Liam walked in, staring between me and our mother in alarm as the two of us cried.
“What’s going on?” he asked warily, looking like he wanted to take a step back out the door and get as far away from us as possible.
“Maggie’s father-daughter dance was tonight,” Mom told him. She sounded sorry for me.
I didn’t want Liam to feel sorry for me, too, so I forced myself to wipe away the tears and put on a brave face.
“Why’d you dress up?” Liam asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “It’s not like he’s here to take you.”
I wanted to scream.
Why had I dressed up?
Because Liam told me that Dad would come back. In the principal’s office that day, he said that dads didn’t leave their kids behind. And I had believed him.
I told him as much, and Liam scoffed at my words. He hated when we were crying. I don’t think he knew what to do with it.
It made him shut down instantly. Or get angry.
And then I got angry that he couldn’t just make me feel better.
“He’s gone, Maggie,” Liam said harshly. “Face it.”
“No!” I yelled. “He’s coming back!”
“He’s not!”
“His boat is still in the driveway,” the tears streamed down my face as my voice grew hoarse from screaming. “He has to come back for his boat!”
“If he doesn’t care about his kids, then he doesn’t care about a fucking boat, Maggie!” Liam yelled back, matching my volume.
“Language!” Mom interjected, but it was a weak attempt.
It didn’t make a difference now, the same way it didn’t the hundred other times she’d said it over the last month.
Liam had been swearing a lot lately. He’d been angry, too. All the time.
I wished I had been, too, instead of drowning in the sorrow.
At least then it wouldn’t hurt as much.
“But you told me he was coming back,” I said again, desperate as I tried to regain control of myself.
“Well, I was wrong!” he said, and I could swear I saw that flicker of pain I felt mirrored in his eyes.
But it didn’t feel like he was wrong. It felt like he lied.
Like a betrayal.
And if Liam could lie to me about something, it meant anyone could. And anyone would.
Even if they didn’t mean to. Even if they thought they meant it in the moment. Things could always change. I had to know that. To be prepared for it.
People changed their minds.
Liam went upstairs and slammed his door.
I ran to mine and slammed mine.
I didn’t have to wish to be angry anymore—now I felt it, too. It burned. My chest, my stomach, my eyes.
Pain wasn’t just in my head. It was a tangible force, threatening to overtake me.
It was overwhelming as I felt it course through me in waves. Anger. Rage. Fury.
I scribbled on paper and ripped it up. I slammed doors whenever I could. I started getting sent to the principal’s office. And I only cried at night when I knew everyone was asleep.
Yes, the anger was overwhelming.
But it was better than the sadness.