[ WP ] Since more and more children are saying that it 's not theit choice to be born , a law has been passed that permits 18-year-olds to decide whether to continue living or not . Your son/daughter is turning 18 tomorrow ...

I imagine one of the most difficult parts of fatherhood is the day you call your little girl a woman. At least that's how it seems when she looks at me with that hard, watery stare. Her mother's eyes. 
 
 For a moment I ignored her weaknesses, her ridged forearms and collection of hospital bracelets. For that moment, I saw my entire life's effort of love. I saw her in poorly-formed pigtails and too-large basketball shorts. I saw her catching her first fish and wobbling in her first pair of heels. My baby. 
 
 I cleared my throat, and her gaze jerked up from her lap. We were both on edge. `` You know I love you, right?'' Weak shit, I tell myself. She wo n't be tricked by guilt. 
 
 `` Of course, Dad.'' My heart tingles. 
 
 `` Then you know how I feel about your choice tomorrow.'' Deep breaths, sweaty palms. Do n't drop eye contact; she needs me. 
 
 She mumbles something, absentmindedly stroking her scars. 
 
 `` Claire.'' 
 
 Her eyes peek up at me, so much older than they should be. For a second I wonder if she knows how much regret is tied to my love for her. Regret that I did n't try harder. 
 
 My lips part but say nothing. My mouth feels dry. `` Claire, you're all I have.'' No guilt intended. 
 
 `` I know,'' she mumbles. 
 
 `` Claire, I know we've had a hard go of things, but it'll get better. You're only seventeen.'' How desperate do I sound? Enough or too much? Which will work on her? I just need her to decide to stay. 
 
 `` Almost eighteen,'' she murmurs, looking again at her hands. 
 
 I sigh. `` Yes. But that does n't mean you can kill yourself!'' My heart pounds as the words cling to the air, finally acknowledged. 
 
 `` It's not killing myself; it's undoing what should n't have been done!'' 
 
 `` That's not true,'' I say, my heart breaking. `` You were an accident but --'' 
 
 `` But nothing,'' she interrupts. `` Mom did n't want me, and neither did you.'' 
 
 `` That's not true,'' I repeat, hearing my voice as if across the room. `` It's not my fault I did n't know about you. I was deployed...'' Something heavy catches in my throat. 
 
 `` You did n't intended for me to exist. You just put up with me once you knew Mom abandoned me.'' 
 
 I stare at her, my baby girl, and wonder if she knows that none of those things mattered to me once I held her for the first time. Finally, I manage, `` But I love you, Claire. Please do n't do this.'' 
 
 She sighs, some of the rigidity of her shoulders dropping. `` Okay, Dad, I love you too.'' 
 
 I raise my arms, tucking her into my chest as she scoots to my side of the couch. Her hair smells like apples, I notice as I kiss her head. I wish I could hold her for the next day, whatever it takes to keep her from deciding to leave me. 
 
 Finally, she pulls away, her black-smudged eyes showing a twinkle of hope for the first time in years. 
 
 `` We'll be fine, okay?'' I offer. `` Tomorrow we'll get cookie cake and play video games, just like always. I love you.'' 
 
 Claire nods, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek as she stands up. `` I love you too, Dad. I'll see you tomorrow.'' 
 
 Noticing the clock, I call after her, `` and happy birthday!'' 
 
 She does n't respond, and for some reason a memory pops into my head, one of a tearful airport kiss as my camo squeezed in on me... 
 
 I only realized why when I knocked on her door the next morning, the warm smells of bacon and pancakes in the air. Instead of my sweet, sleepy girl on the other side, I found a note with one word --'' Sorry.'' 
 
 
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 Sorry for any weird formatting, I typed this up on my phone. First submission and first time writing in a while, so go easy on me.
