“Sarcasm is beneath you in this situation,” he states, the flint in his voice reflected in his gaze.
And from one second to the next, I revert from a full grown twenty-eight-year-old to the little girl chastised for her “defiance” and “lip.” Only recently had remnants of that little girl started emerging again. And I started realizing that “lip” didn’t equal “voice.” And defiance was just another label for “power.” And yet… Even now, years of conditioning that came from seeking my father’s approval tug at me, cracking open a door for guilt and embarrassment to creep in. Sometimes all it takes is one criticism from that judge-on-high voice or a singleI raised you better than thatlook from his dark eyes, and I fall back in line.
Because somewhere along the line, Dad had figured out one of my greatest fears is losing him. And maybe it’s juvenile as hell, but there’s a tiny part of me that’s certain one disappointment too many will do just that. Drive him away.
And my father isn’t above using that fear to his advantage if it pushes his agenda.
Hey, I never said our relationship didn’t have its dysfunctions.
“Also if your defensiveness is anything to go by, then you suspect Justin confided in me regarding the end of your relationship. Which isn’t this yarn about this break up being mutual or amicable. You can tell that to me or anyone who listens to ease your conscience, but we both know it’s not the truth.”
I briefly close my eyes. And convince myself that the tightening in my chest isn’t hurt or resentment.
Or the need to hunt down my recent ex and whisper “Snitches get stitches” in his ear while holding the business end of a protractor to his balls.
“I’m not sure what Justin said to you, but while, yes, I initiated the talk between us that waslongpast due, he agreed that our time together as a couple had come to an end. Four years and we weren’t progressing forward. We”
“And whose fault was that?” he snaps.
“Ours since it requires two people to be in a relationship,” I reply through clenched teeth. Then, I pause. Count to fifteen and add another five just to be on the safe side. “I understand Justin is your friend, but I can’t force feelings I don’t have or waste more years in a dead-end relationship just because he’s your friend.”
Dad’s chin snaps back toward his neck. “Oh so now it’s my fault that you couldn’t make it work?”
Lord, give me strength. And if there’s any way you could turn wine into whiskey…? I mean, you turned water into wine. It’s the next obvious step…
Jesus is obviously too busy elsewhere because my Cabernet Sauvignon isn’t pulling a transfiguration act. Got it. I’m on my own.
Figures. I’m used to my prayers going unanswered.
Please, let my mother live.
Please, bring King back to me.
Please, let me never see King again.
At this point, prayers are just based on habit not faith.
Sighing, I pick up my non-whiskey and sip from it. Alongsip.
“No, Dad, that’s not what I’m saying.” I hold onto the glass instead of putting it back down on the table. Who am I kidding. I’m going to need it again shortly. “But Justin and I probably stayed together longer than we should’ve because he’s your friend and respects you. And he’s one of the very few men I’ve dated that you’ve actually approved of. Neither one of us wanted to disappoint you. But I can’t allow that to dictate my decisions any longer.”
“That’s ridiculous.” He waves his fork before jabbing it in my direction. “Of course you can.” I suck in a shocking breath of air that slicks ice over my lungs. My spine goes ramrod straight, and I blink. Then blink again. Before I can squeeze a word past my constricted throat, he continues. “Where do children get the idea that they shouldn’t consider other people, especially their parents and loved ones, in their decisions, their actions. After all, you aren’t the only ones who will be directly affected by them. We will, too. To not consider others is just selfish and immature.”
“Dad,” I murmur.
“No, don’t ‘Dad’ me.” He shoves a scoop of macaroni ’n’ cheese in his mouth, chews, then rolls on with his lecture. “I’m older, have seen more than you and am wiser just from experience alone. I can see around corners you can’t. You’re twenty-eight, Lennon. And while teaching is a noble job, you need to have a husband and a family. Justin, with a steady career with the potential for political appointments, is the perfect man. He’s stable, wealthy in his own right, comes from a great, respected family, and will be able to provide for you and your children. Who else is better than him in Pike’s End? You’re being very short-sighted and impulsive in this decision.”
He states this as if his pronouncement should be accompanied by two stone tablets and a non-bush-burning fire. But that’s the problem. In this town, Judge Terrance Ward’s word is law. And he believes he’s some kind of deity to me.
And I’ve let him nurture that belief. For far too long. It was easier than fighting.
Not tonight, though. If I exhibit even the slightest sign of weakness, I’ll be wedded, bedded and scheduling Mommy and Me days at the community center, my employment at Pike’s End Elementary School nothing but a hazy, bittersweet dream.
No. I love my father. But I won’t enter into a loveless marriage where Justin and I will not only make each other miserable, but also any children we have. I won’t do it.
“Dad,” I say, meeting his gaze and pouring a firmness into my voice that, honestly, is more smoke and mirrors than truth. “I love you. And we’re going to table this conversation, agree to disagree and leave it at that. I want to finish our dinner and end this evening on a good note, not a negative one. Now,” I set my glass down and picked up my fork, intent on making it through this meal with no more shade, arguments or unsolicited advice. “What were you saying about your day?”
He stares at me through narrowed eyes, and his lips fold in on themselves before he resumes eating.