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It strikes me that, although I faced this on my own, but it isn’t over yet. Not until I stop walking in fear.
I need to face my dad one more time, and there’s no time better than now, with the red-blood words written on my door flashing through my head and the fear driving me relentlessly. I’ll use that fear, and that anger, to break the mold of my past.
***
When I enter the reception area of the law firm, I find it empty. The secretary isn’t behind her desk. Still shaking, I cross and open the door to Dad’s office.
He’s sitting in his usual place, behind his massive desk. He doesn’t look up when I enter, though his eyes flicker to the side. I can see that his computer screen is dark.
I open my mouth to speak, but something keeps me back. I want to see if he’ll say something first, and what that will be.
So I walk the length of his office, to the polished shelves lining the eastern wall, and peruse the spines of the law books stacked in neat rows. Silence stretches between us like a tightrope. Who will walk it first?
“I expected you to come around sooner,” he says.
“Around to your office?”
“I mean I expected you to see sense.”
My hand, that’s been sliding along the smooth shelf, stills. “Really?”
“Sit down, Tessa,” he snaps.
I tense, but force my hands to fall, lax, at my sides. I turn slowly. “No, thank you. I’d rather stand.”
“What are you…?” His blue eyes, so similar to mine, narrow. It’s like looking into a distorted mirror. “I said sit down.”
“You can say anything you like, Dad.” My hands are curling into fists. “You don’t control me. Not anymore.”
“That’s what you think. I pay for your apartment, your gasoline, your goddamn pocket money.”
“Not anymore,” I repeat, taking a step toward him. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want the damn apartment.”
“The hell you don’t.” He starts to rise from his chair, and I wonder if I’ll have to use the pepper spray after all, on my own father. “If I take away your car and your college tuition, what will you do?”
“You can’t do that.” I step to his desk, and place both hands on it. We’re so close I can see something I never expected to see in my father’s eyes: uncertainty. “The car belongs to me. Mom gave it to me. It’s in my name. And she’s giving me money for college, so I can study what I choose.”
He slams his hands on the desk, and I flinch. I push my hand into my purse, let my fingers close around the pepper spray.
“As for the apartment,” I go on, “I’ll empty it as soon as I can. As soon as you tell the Anholts I’m not part of any frigging deal. Tell Sean if he as much as glances at me, I’m calling the police. I have a restraining order on him. Don’t make me request one for you as well.”
A slight widening of his eyes tells me he really didn’t expect any of this. I suppose nobody who knows me would have. I’ve been passive for so long, I almost forgot how to fight back.
But it’s all coming back to me now.
“So what, you’ll walk out, like your mother did? Leave it all behind, pretend money isn’t important? That you can live on air and sunshine?”
Mom didn’t ask for his money? That’s news to me. Go, Mom. “Money is important,” I say. “It’s necessary—for food, for a roof over your head, medical expenses, books and music and movies.”
He’s looking at me like he can’t figure me out. “Yes,” he says, slowly. “It is necessary.”
“And so is happiness. That means being with people who love and accept you, doing things you like, working on projects that inspire you and making a difference in the world in your own way.”
A scowl tightens his features. “Are you done with this bullshit?”
Why am I still disappointed he doesn’t get it?
“Yes, I’m done. Done with you. If you ever remember I’m your own flesh and blood, and you want to help me achieve my own goals instead of passing me around your business partners, then come find me. Dad.”
