Letters From Mom

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

TWENTY THREE:  YOU WHAT?!

"Come in kids," Red hair gestured.

Kids? We are not kids.

Hold that thought....... I look over my shoulders at my friends munching on cookies.

Rephrase....... I'm not a kid.

"What are you doing here?" My dad says.

No way am I doing this with him. Sit down and act like all is well when it's not. I lost my mother. I'm not going to ignore that fact because it's part of my past and it's true.

"Cut me the good guy story," I said getting straight to the point, "I know that you know my mother is dead, right?"

"Right." He admits after a moment of silence.

At least he admits it.

"Why didn't you reach out to me?" I asked.

"You hated me with so much passion," well, he's not wrong there. "I needed to let you grow up by yourself and face the world but then I couldn't stand not talking to you at least, so I I..... I" He hesitates.

"You what Richard?!"

"I found another way to get to you." That surely doesn't add up because I never received any thing from him for nine years but I stay quiet and let him finish. "I wrote the letters, Debby?"

He what?!

"You what?!" I voice out my thoughts.

"I wrote the letters. I needed to know you were corresponding well and all, so I arranged everything and blamed it on you dead mother."

"Can you hear yourself? Do you know how sick you sound right now?" I raised my voice .

"Debbs, don't raise your voice on me." My dad stands to his feet.

"I will do whatever I so damn well please and if I want to raise my voice, so I help me father I will." I stood up too, reaching his chest. "I can't believe you actually did that, here I am trying to give you a second chance when you don't even deserve it." I turn to walk away but he grabs my arm.

"Let me explain." He pleads.

"Don't. I will only hate you more." I release myself from his strong grip and stomp out to the car waiting for Clifford and Lucy.

Few minutes later, they both come out with bags of cookies each and are waving cheerfully at red hair.

Unbelievable! I shook my head.

Few minutes into the drive, Clifford decides to break the cold uncomfortable ice that is our silence.

"Are you okay, Dee?" He asks as if careful not to say the wrong thing.

"Of course not, Clifford, I have a psychopath for a biological father."  I nearly yelled.

"Sorry," he mutters under his breath.

"It's not your fault." I sighed.

"Give him a second chance Dee" I turned to Lucy to confirm those words left her mouth and they did.

"Never." I spat. I could already feel my blood boiling against my skin.

Neither of them brings the topic up again.

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