The Pack Slut

Thirty- Surprise Surprise

I'll be the first to admit there have been times when I have been so drunk that I stand in a locked daze starring at nothing while trying to remember what my own address is. Many times in fact.

This, however, is not one of those times.

This time I am in a locked daze completely sober with my father's arms wrapped around me. My brain can't process the information fast enough for my limbs to react to anything and for a long moment I am paralyzed.

I wiggle my numb fingers first before I slowly raise my frozen straight arms upwards to rest on my father's back. My right check is pressed against the silky soft dress shirt my father wears and the fabric is just as soft under my finger tips as I press down into the hug.

"Dad?" My voice cracks in a way that makes me sound like a child but that's how I feel right now. Like a child who's father came late to the preschool pick up. He let me down when he wasn't here on time but he's here now and he's taking me home; somehow, that's all that matters.

My father doesn't speak and it takes me a little longer to figure out why: he's crying.

Salty drops fall onto my shoulder and leave a splattered pattern against my shirt. They feel warm and oddly comforting. Almost as if they are the living proof that my father actually loves me—that he's actually my dad.

"Lenora," he finally croaks, "I'm so sorry I wasn't a better father."

The words destroy me in a way that nothing ever has before.

That seems to be the pattern this summer, as soon as I put myself together I get knocked down again like I'm some kind of game of Jenga.

I squeeze harder because for some reason I hope if I hold my dad tight enough he will feel the comfort he needs. It has only just occurred to me that a hug could could say more than I could.

"You weren't a terrible father," I reassure my dad because I can finally calm my heart enough to speak.

"Yes, I was. I wasn't there for you when you needed me. In fact, I shoved you away for all the wrong reasons." My dad and I pull back from the hug so we can finally look at one another.

My cheeks are wet with streaks of tears that have been smudge from my dad's shirt. His eyes are slightly rimmed in red from crying but they are still the same ocean blue eyes that I have.

"I believe there are some things we need to discuss?" My mother finally interrupts.

I take a step back so I can look at both my parents, "why did you say what you did? Why didn't you stand by me?" I direct my question to my mother but it's my father who answers.

"We had to make a choice and we chose wrong. We should have defended you no matter what just like we should have believed you when you told us about those boys. Your mother and I...we can never make up for the way we didn't believe you. We put others before our own daughter but I swear we won't ever do that again." My dad reaches a hand out but I don't take it just yet.

"I want to hear it from you," I look right at my mother and I watch her discomfort. "I'm not stupid, I know you were the one who instigated everything. You were the first one not to believe me and you turned everyone against me. I want to know why."

She visibly squirms and her shoulders tense before she finally answers, "There was three before you. Each time I got pregnant, I lost the child sooner and sooner. By the time I found out I was pregnant with you, I accepted that I would lose you too. But even then, you were always a fighter. Your father and I were so happy to finally have an heir to our title and fulfill our duty to our pack. Except, when you were born, we discovered that you were a girl."