How I Messed Up My Daughter’s Childhood

The Beginning of the End

She changed my 16-year-old’s Instagram bio to “Sugar Princess” and used my credit card to buy her nightclub dresses. When I confronted her, she smirked and said,

“You don’t understand how a real woman networks.”

This morning my daughter’s photos were trending with a stranger’s handle. I’m going more than just nuclear.

Six years after our baby girl was born, my wife was sitting on a bus that crashed into a pole. Because of where she was seated, she was the only one that died.

I always swore to myself that I wouldn’t date again until Arya was older. I knew I had to be the one that would hear about her first period, her first real crush, and her first heartbreak.

By the time she turned 14, we were more like best friends than anything else. I still don’t know how she turned out so well.

I never had to tell her to do anything more than once, and she was grateful for everything she had. Honestly, sometimes it felt like she was my role model.

It was around this time that I met Veronica. She was the type of woman to laugh at your joke when the rest of the room was silent.

When I realized I had a crush on her, I got scared. I didn’t want to confuse Arya in case it didn’t work out, but I knew I couldn’t be single forever.

I decided to just take things slow and very private. We went on one date a week, and she already knew about Arya because of the photo frame I kept in my office.

On our one-year anniversary, I finally told Arya about it.

“No effing shot, Dad. You’re really terrible at hiding things from me,”

she said.

I burst out laughing and the next week we hosted a barbecue and invited her. I had no idea how bad things were about to get because they hit it off immediately.

Veronica complimented Arya’s vintage band t-shirt and suddenly they were deep in conversation about music I’d never heard of. It felt easy and natural, like maybe I could actually do this.

On our two-year anniversary, the month was filled with cardboard boxes and moving vans because Veronica moved in with us. The first week was amazing.

Arya had someone to complain about period cramps with, and I could hear them laughing all night. But one Friday everything changed.

I came home from work to find Arya in her room with the door locked and music blasting. Usually she listened to the Arctic Monkeys or Tame Impala, but suddenly that had been replaced by Nicki Minaj and Cardi B.

When she finally came down for dinner, I barely recognized her. My sweet Arya had her face caked in heavy makeup: dark smoky eyes, bright red lips, and foundation so thick it looked like a mask.

She was wearing a dress so short she couldn’t even sit down properly.

“What’s with the new look?”

I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

She just shrugged and kept eating. Veronica and I exchanged glances but didn’t push it.

Teenagers experiment, right? Except things only got worse from there.

Arya was getting dress-coded at school every day. One day I caught a package in the post from Victoria’s Secret and saw that she had spent $300—all her saved up birthday money—on red undergarments.

Then came the boys. First it was Jake from her math class, then Tyler from the debate team.

At first she told me they were just friends and I believed her. But they’d show up at all hours, honking their horns instead of coming to the door.

“This isn’t like her,”

I told Veronica one night.

“Something’s wrong.”

Veronica sighed.

“She’s 16. This is what 16-year-olds do. She’s testing boundaries.”

I wanted to believe Veronica was right, but my gut told me something else was going on. Arya had gone from my best friend to a stranger in just a few months.

Then came the moment when everything clicked. I was fast asleep at 2:00 a.m. when I heard the front door creak open.

I looked out the window and saw Arya getting into a car I didn’t recognize. I didn’t even waste time putting on pants; I just grabbed the car keys and followed them.

They drove to a quieter part of town with no street lights. I turned my lights off and made sure to keep my distance.

That’s when I saw it. A man who looked like he could be in his 40s was getting out of his car to let Arya out.

When I saw him lean in to kiss her, my jaw dropped so hard I could practically hear it crack. I jumped out and ran towards him, ready to beat him until his organs were the same consistency of a smoothie.

“Dad, what are you doing?”

Arya yelled, as if she was surprised to see me attack him. She then jumped on my back and forced me off of him.

“Dad, I thought this is what you wanted.”

By this point she was in tears, and even through the anger, I instinctively stroked her hair. The man had driven away and we were sitting together on the sidewalk.

“Now that you have Veronica, you don’t need me anymore. I was just trying to find a new man to take care of me when I turned 18.”

I stared at her blankly, unsure if this was a lie to get her out of being in trouble. But then she continued.