What if all she brought was her alarm clock?

She could imagine standing outside the door and wondering if it would work. Everyone she knew who had two homes had two of everything else too. Her friends didn't have to pack to spend the weekend at dad's house, so why should she? She could imagine herself waving goodbye to her mom and seeing the worried look on her face before walking inside to be greeted by the overpowering scent of cologne.

“Hey, kiddo,” he would say. Then, “Where's all your stuff?” She would hold up the alarm clock to see his confusion cloud into anger and he would yell, “Your mother did this, didn't she?” and, “You're just like her.” And she would run out the door to her mother's car where she was waiting for this to happen. She would be able to hear the “I told you so” in her mother's voice as she said, “Well, what did you think was going to happen?”

But she really did have a bag packed. Pajamas, shoes, even her toothbrush. The only thing there for her was a bed, so she had to cart everything else back and forth. When she was at her father's house, they never went anywhere, never did anything. She stayed in her room. He asked one day why she didn't like to come over, but when she said, “We never do anything,” and, “I feel like you don't want me here,” he argued that it wasn't the truth.

She replays it over and over, imagining all of it going differently. Maybe if she was less like her mother things wouldn't be this way. He would want to spend time with her. He would want her. She would say, “Softball can't be more important than me,” and, “I need you to want to see me,” but instead of being angry, he would hug her and say okay. Everything would be okay.

But she kept even more to herself and he never brought it up again. They let the silence between them grow until he disappeared almost entirely. He got a girlfriend and he would drive four hours to see Amy and her kids instead of spending the weekends with his daughter like he was supposed to. On the weekends he did stay in town and pretend he wanted to be with her, she knew he wanted to leave. She wanted him to want to stay there with her, but he didn't. Her own father didn't even want to spend time with her, and she knew she shouldn't, but she took it out on everyone around her. She had given up and she didn't even try to pretend she wanted to be at his house anymore.

She imagines one last attempt at peace. She would ask him to take her bowling, or to a movie, and afterward they would talk it out. He would tell her of course he loved her. Of course he cared how she felt. Of course Amy wasn't more important than her.

But everything stayed the same. Softball and Amy and everything else came first. He kept giving up his weekends, and when she did see him she pretended like none of it mattered. Like she didn't care. They never went anywhere, never did anything. She stayed in her room. He woke her up one night to tell her if she was going to bring this attitude with her to his house, then she might as well not come at all. So the next morning when she woke up, he drove her to school and she said a goodbye that meant forever.

She can imagine seeing him in Walmart and having the courage to say something to him. Maybe even just “Hi,” or, “How are you?” She imagines that he calls and says “I miss you,” or, “Come home,” and she would. She imagines the world without stepmothers and stepbrothers. She even tries to imagine the world without her father.

But this is real life, and he never called. He never even bothered to ask her why she never went back. He spent all his free time with Amy and pretended her kids were his. He forgot about his daughter, and she is still trying to forget him.