Read previous: Part 3
Yesterday my daughter finally contacted me. After disappearing for a few days, she finally wanted to talk. Just hearing her message filled me with deep relief. Knowing she was okay gave me the courage to reply. After a few short messages, we agreed to meet at a café near downtown. As expected, Tom came with me. I hoped we could handle this together, and since she was finally willing to talk, I wanted to take the chance to tell her how I really feel.
It’s hard to describe these kinds of feelings, especially given our situation. Imagine being in my position: first a father, then suddenly waking up in your own daughter’s body. Falling in love, starting to see yourself as a woman when you were once a man. Clinging to that masculinity but eventually surrendering to your new nature. Meanwhile, your daughter — whose mind hasn’t fully matured — has to watch her father doing the things she should be doing. She should be out there enjoying her youth, meeting boys, falling in love, and having sex with the right person. But she lost all of that. She ended up in my old body, lost her youth, and was forced into a job she doesn’t want. She tries to be strong so I won’t worry, but it’s clear this situation has deeply affected her. And to make things worse, she caught her own father — in her body — having sex while she wasn’t home.
All these thoughts and reflections flooded my mind. I had no excuses for her, and I barely had the courage to look her in the face. A part of me wanted to run, to tell Tom to start the car and escape, but I couldn’t do that to my daughter. She had shown more courage than me by deciding to send that message.
Time passed, and she finally arrived. I have to admit I felt quite relieved when I saw her. She entered wearing my old adult body, and she looked different. The moment she saw me, the atmosphere — and her expression — became serious and suffocating. I couldn’t tell which part of this was going to be the most uncomfortable, but it was too late to back out now.
The tension in the café grew even heavier the moment she sat down in front of me.
My daughter entered with a firmer posture than usual, but her expression changed as soon as she saw me. Tom stayed silently by my side, offering support without interfering.
She was the first to speak:
“I asked for a few days off work because I needed to get away. I’ve been staying in a cheap motel these past three days. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Her voice sounded exhausted. I lowered my gaze, feeling a lump in my throat. She was clearly right about how she felt. I just needed to be honest.
“I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened,” I said with a trembling voice. “I know there aren’t enough words, but I’m fully aware of the damage I’ve caused you. I truly feel very guilty about how you’re feeling.”
“Guilty?” she asked. “I saw you moaning like you were never my father. Is that guilt too?”
Her question hit me hard. There was no real answer to that. She was so right that the shock left me speechless.
“I need to come back home,” she continued. “Tomorrow I have to go back to work and I can’t keep paying for the motel. That’s my home… or at least it used to be.”
Tom gently squeezed my hand under the table. It gave me confidence. When I looked at him, I saw the determination in his eyes — he was ready to support me through this.
“Then we’ll leave,” I replied. “We don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or forced to live with this. It’s too much to process. We’ll give you the space you need.”
My daughter looked surprised for a moment. She clearly hadn’t expected such a direct answer.
“You’re going to leave?” she asked me.
“Yes. It’s the least I can do right now. The house is yours. I… I’ve already taken too much.”
“But… where are you going to stay?”
That sincere question gave me a spark of hope. It showed she still cared, and it reinforced my decision — one that Tom immediately supported.
“She’ll stay with me,” Tom said calmly. “I’ll send you the address in case you ever want to visit. The important thing now is that you’re okay and have your own space.”
Silence fell between us again. She looked out the window for a while before speaking:
“I don’t know how much time I’m going to need. I don’t even know how I feel about all of this yet. Just… give me time.”
“As much as you need,” I answered, holding back tears. “When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here. I won’t pressure you.”
She nodded slowly, stood up from her chair, and without saying anything else, walked out of the café.
I remained seated, feeling a huge emptiness in my chest. Tom wrapped his arm around my shoulders and gently kissed the top of my head.
For the first time since The Great Shift, I felt like I had finally done something truly right for her: giving her back her space.
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