Chapter 16 - The Man My Father Chose
Before sentencing, Dad asked to see me.
I almost declined.
Then agreed.
A park.
Public.
Snow melting.
He brought no documents.
“Chloe.”
“Dad.”
He looked thinner.
“How’s Elaine?”
“You can ask her.”
He smiled sadly.
“Fair.”
We walked.
After five minutes:
“I chose him.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“The day we saw your face.”
He looked ahead.
“I kept telling myself I chose neutrality.”
I said nothing.
“I didn’t. Neutrality would have been leaving both of you alone after calling police or asking what you wanted.”
He swallowed.
“I chose Brandon because believing him protected my money and my pride.”
There.
No euphemism.
“Why tell me?”
“Because I kept apologizing for not helping. That wasn’t the full thing.”
“No.”
“I actively made it easier for him.”
“Yes.”
“I gave him your financial statement.”
“Yes.”
“I dismissed you two years ago.”
“Yes.”
Every yes hurt him.
I did not soften.
Then he said:
“I’m not asking to be your father again on the schedule I want.”
I looked.
“What does that mean?”
“You decide.”
That was new.
“Mom?”
“She’s divorcing me.”
“I know.”
“I deserve…”
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“I don’t want to hear what you deserve.”
He nodded.
“What do you want?”
“To become someone who doesn’t need people to be quiet so I can feel decent.”
That was almost good.
I said:
“Then do it whether I forgive you or not.”
“Yes.”
We finished walk.
No hug.
Before leaving he said:
“I paid the last of bank settlement.”
“Okay.”
“I sold the boat.”
Dad loved that boat.
I felt something.
Not joy.
Consequences.
“Okay.”
Then:
“I’m sorry, Chloe.”
“I know.”
That was all.
I drove home.
Samantha was assembling a bookshelf in my apartment.
“Did you reconcile?”
“No.”
“Did you murder him?”
“No.”
“Successful meeting.”
I laughed.
Then helped with shelf.
The small apartment no longer felt temporary.
I bought a rug.
A yellow one Brandon would have hated.
That made me laugh too.
May you like
Not every act of healing needs deep symbolism.
Sometimes you buy ugly rug because nobody can veto it.
