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The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

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Filling The Empty Bottle
By dancexforxlife

 


I paced the room. I sat down in the chair and stared at the phone. My foot bounced nervously and I stood up and started pacing again. Not a minute later, I was back in the chair, staring at the phone and bouncing my foot nervously.

Finally, I picked up the phone and dialed the number written on my hand. My hand shook slightly as I brought it up to my ear, not sure if I should be doing this. It rang three times before someone picked up.

“Hello?”

“Amy?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“This… Amy it's your father.” My voice had started shaking too. There was silence on the other end so I decided to keep talking. “Look, Amy. I know we aren't on the best of terms, and I'm sorry. I did what you said. I got help and I got my life back in order. I'm clean. I just…I just really want to see you.” There was more silence. I thought she had hung up. Disappointed, I went to hang up my phone.

“Do you want to come over and talk?” The phone snapped back up to my ear.

“What?”

“Do you want to come over and talk?”

“Yes, anything to see you.” I jotted down her address and quickly hung up. I jumped out of the chair, grabbed my coat and keys, and ran out the door. I climbed into my old, blue pick-up and started down the street.

It was a long drive and my thoughts were going into overdrive. What if she hated me? What if she wanted nothing to do with me? I started thinking about the last time I had seen Amy, that fateful night over five years ago.

I sat on the couch, staring off into space. I was unclean, unshaven, and I probably stunk. An empty bottle of alcohol lay limp in my dirty hands. The TV was playing some black and white movie loudly, but I wasn't paying any attention. I was too drunk.

I could hear Amy coming down the stairs behind me. I didn't turn around. She came around to the front of the couch, blocking the TV from me. “Amy, move!”

“No Dad.”

“I said move!” I threw a pillow at her. It missed, badly. She still didn't budge. “What do you want?” I slurred, standing unsteadily.

“I'm leaving Dad.” If I wasn't so drunk I could have heard the deadly tone in her voice.

What?”

“I said I'm leaving.”

“Like hell you are! Go back upstairs!”

“No. I'm 18 today, and I am leaving. Now.”

“Why do you want to leave? Don't you love your daddy?” I was starting to see just how angry and how serious she was. But she didn't yell. She didn't scream. She stayed calm. And she cried.

“Ever since mom died three years ago you've been throwing your life away. Every day I come home from school and you are either passed out on the couch or in some bar. You can't keep a job for more than two weeks and end up paying for everything. I'm tired of it. I'm going to go live with my friend and finish high school.”

“And what am I supposed to do without you here?”

“Go get help. Call me when you've fixed your life.” Without giving me a chance to respond, she walked away. I followed her out.

“Amy. Amy, wait! Let's talk about this! Amy!” I cried desperately. She ignored me. When she got to the door, she picked up her two bags and was about to walk out, but she turned around. “Amy…” A single tear rolled down her cheek.

“Bye, Dad. I love you.” It was so quite I almost missed it. Without looking back, Amy stepped out the door, closing it slowly behind her. I stood there in shock. I couldn't believe I had just lost my baby girl. I walked back into the living room as if in a trance. The TV was still blaring and everything lay there as if nothing had happened. Everything was normal. I looked down at the empty bottle lying abandoned on the couch. I looked down at the empty bottle that tempted me into thinking it was something good. I looked down at the empty bottle that had messed my life up. I looked down at the empty bottle that had given me an empty life.

In a fit of anger, I grabbed the bottle and threw it at the TV. It shattered and pieces of glass landed everywhere. I plopped back down on the couch, suddenly exhausted. I rested my elbows on my knees and buried my head in my hands. And I cried.

The house I drove up to looked cozy. It was single-story and had a little garden in the front. I quickly checked the address before climbing out of my truck. I slowly made my way up to the door, trying to figure out what I would say to Amy. My hand shook slightly as I rang the doorbell. It took a while for someone to answer the door. The waiting made me more nervous.

A man I didn't recognize answered. “You must be Amy's father, nice to meet you. I'm Brendon.” He opened the door and shook my hand.

“Hello Brendon. You must be Amy's boyfriend?”

“Husband, actually. Come on in. She's in the kitchen.” A waved of sadness washed over me. I had missed my only daughter's wedding. I followed Brendon through the house and into the kitchen. Sitting at the table was Amy. She had her back to us so she didn't know that we were there. Brendon cleared his throat, announcing our presence. Amy turned and flashed me a wonderful smile.

“Hi Dad.” She stood up and my breath hitched in my throat.

“You're pregnant too?” My voice sounded hoarse and strained. She nodded slowly, biting her bottom lip.

“Your grandson is due next month.” I slowly closed the distance between us. We stood there, for what seemed like an eternity, just staring at one another, neither saying a word. I watched as a single tear rolled down her cheek. Right then, I pulled her into my arms as tightly as I could. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek.

“I love you so much Amy!”

“I love you too Dad.” I wiped her tears with my thumb and kissed the top of her head. And I cried.

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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