I was determined to stand my ground. I
put down my notebook and stared up at the quotes stuck to the ceiling. They
gave me strength I wouldn’t have normally had.
Dad walked in the door. I stared past
That’s another thing. He isn’t all
Katrina-you-horrible-girl. He calls me Kat, something mom has never gotten used
to. That disarmed me when I didn’t want to talk to him. I hated being mad at
him, and it was harder when I had nothing, not even a small thing like use of
my full name, to fuel my anger.
I replied, almost expressionless,
aloof. It was killing me inside, the thought of being cold towards him, but I
had to stand my ground.
“Look, Kat, your mom told me what
“Did she tell you about the part where
she said how she wanted me to be more like the other girls? Did she give you
the full version of events?”
I asked sharply.
“Kat, your mom is just going through a
hard time. It’s still killing her that Martina and Shaynne are dead.”
Dad said gently.
I looked him right in the eye.
“It’s hard on me as well, you know. It
isn’t just mom who lost people she loved.”
I said coldly, though the flame of my
anger was starting to flicker and burn out. I had to keep it alive, keep it
burning, my anger strong. It was taking all of my concentration to try and get
angry memories to flash into my mind.
Dad was talking again, but I hardly
heard a word. He could tell that I wasn’t listening.
“Come on Kat, just come down for
dinner. Your mom is sorry, I know she is, she’s just going through a rough
patch, the same as all of us. Please.”
I sighed. I didn’t want to give in to
him, but I had to. I was also quite hungry.
“Give me five minutes to finish
I sighed again.
“Thank you Kat.”
He walked away, evidently pleased with
himself. He didn’t like tension of any sort. He and I both knew that mom wasn’t
going to give in and apologise.