Chapter 8: The Last Conversation at the House
My father wanted me to come alone.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Not “Can we talk?””
Not “Can we fix this?””
Not “I’m sorry.””
A condition.
A demand.
The same pattern I had lived with my entire life.
He wanted control of the conversation before it even started.
So I did something I had never done before.
I said no.
Not loudly.
Not angrily.
Just calmly.
“Dad, I’ll meet you.””
A pause.
“But I’m not coming alone.””
The silence on the other end of the phone lasted several seconds.
“What does that mean?””
“It means I’m done having conversations where I’m expected to forget what happened afterward.””
His voice hardened.
“This is a family matter.””
I looked at the folder sitting beside me.
“No.””
I swallowed.
May you like
“It stopped being a family matter when my name was used without my permission.””
Another silence
