Docile Willingness

My more sympathetic side told Sam that I would catch up with him later tonight before I could totally lose control of everything I said.

My father watched Sam leave the apartment.  When the door was shut, he mumbled a thanks and turned back to face me.  My expression must have been the coldest thing he'd ever seen.  There was no expression of any love or sympathy or curiosity or a docile willingness to listen to what he had to say in my eyes.  I stared straight forward at him, waiting for him to begin explaining.  His face was pale, like he'd seen a ghost.  The ghost of his little girl, all grown up.  Guess what; she learned the meaning of hate, I thought bitterly.

I knew that the Daddy's-little-girl that'd been inside me for the last ten years should have been nicer to him, but the part of me that screamed You-walked-out-on-me-and-I-haven't-heard-from-you-in-several-months sort of overwhelmed my senses and I wasn't in control of my emotions.  

"Sweetie, I've made some bad mistakes recently, and I hurt your mother very much,"  He began.  I nearly snorted.  Since when did he talk to me like I was five again?  Where did he get the right to call me sweetie?  I kept these remarks to myself, taking deep breaths and trying to stabilize myself.  It took all of my effort.

"Your mom and I decided that it's best if I move out and we separated for a while.  But this doesn't mean a permanent end to things.  There's still hope,"  he continued further.

"You mean mom got pissed off at you and kicked you out.  A divorce typically means a permanent end,"  I proclaimed scathingly.

 "Okay, Nicole! I get it!  I screwed up and you're angry with me!  But what do you want me to say?  I've apologized; what more can I do?  What can I say to make you understand that I'm more sorry than I've ever been before?  I know I brought this on myself, but I didn't realize the consequences that would follow.  I'm so heart-broken, I can't get out of bed in the mornings.  I can't handle it if you hate me too.  Please, Nikki; you're all I've got left!"  The tears streamed from his eyes.  I knew he was genuine, but I didn't want to forgive him just yet.  

I stared at him, trying to decide what to feel inside.  Sympathetic?  Hostile?  Grateful that he still claimed to love me?  Confusion was the only thing I could muster.

"I don't know.  I--  I have homework to do."  I didn't want to see his broken eyes anymore.  Their color was dead and lifeless now, their usual spark dimmed out of existence.  No trace of happiness was left anywhere in him.

I went to my room and left him standing there in the living room, heart broken with nothing more to lose, and I cried.   I cried for an immeasurable amount of time, and I was pretty sure my dad wasn't standing in the living room anymore.  

The End

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