Living With the Choices We Make (Domestic Violence / Abuse) ✔️

22 - Do You Think He Can Forgive Me?

"How do you know?" I snivel. "He told me he doesn't approve that I killed Brent. He called it a despicable act of  self-justice."

"There is a difference between hating a person and disapproving of an act. Your father is a cop. You can't seriously expect him to agree with self-justice. It's against everything he stands for but that doesn't mean he stopped loving you."

I am still not convinced. "You don't know him. I could see in his eyes that he can't comprehend what I did."

"That might be so. But do you truthfully think he would stick around, visit you, attend all your hearings and be there for you as much as he has if he didn't love you?"

"He might just feel obliged." This has been my fear all along.

"Why would he feel obliged?"

I click my tongue. This is getting way too heavy for me. "It doesn't matter. We are getting off track."

He smiles mildly. "I think we are doing just fine."

Of course he would say that. He is getting under my skin again, tearing at half healed wounds. I hate when he does that.

I drum my fingers on the table. "I think it's time for a break."

He checks his watch. "It's not even ten o'clock. You are just hoping to distract me and get out of answering those questions."

I clutch my hands to my heart, pretending to be wounded. "Would I ever do that?"

"Don't act so innocently. We both know that you don't like to talk about your feelings."

I am up for the challenge. "I really have to use the bathroom."

For a moment, he actually hesitates. "I can offer you a bedpan."

I shoot him a wicked glare. "Seriously?"

He chuckles "I have to finish with the interview today or I will get into trouble with the judge. I can't do that if we take a potty break every five minutes."

I roll my eyes. "OK, I don't actually have to go."

"Great. Where were we?"

I am not going to help him out. "No clue."

His face lightens up. "Oh yes, you were about to tell me why your dad would feel obliged being a part of your life," he says smugly.

He is plain evil and knows it. "Can I pass?"

A stern look. "This is not a game show where you can go with option B."

"How about calling a friend like they do on Jeopardy?"

He studies me before letting out a deep sigh. "OK, let's play this game. Who would you call?"

He got me, I don't have any friends. I bury my face into my hands and remain silent.

"Rena, why would you father feel obliged?" His voice is soft and so irritating that I finally have enough.

"Because I blamed him for what I did. I told him if he had been there for me, if he had just fought in court when I petitioned for emancipation, hell, if he had forbidden for me to go out with Brent in the first place, none of this would have happened. I mean, what kind of father does that? Who would just let his daughter walk out of his apartment into certain doom?"

"You told him all that?"

I was a stupid thing to do. "Yes, and he was devastated. I could see how it broke him apart. And now he only sticks around because he doesn't want to be blamed again."