Chapter 6: He Couldn't Look Me in the Eyes
My father stood outside the hospital room for almost a full minute before entering.
Later, I learned that a hospital staff member had explained my condition to him and told him that I was awake but still needed rest.
He had asked whether he could see me.
He had been told that the decision should take my wishes into account.
That stopped him.
For the first time in his life, Dad couldn't simply decide what would happen and expect everyone else to accept it.
He had to wait.
He had to ask.
And he had to consider the possibility that I might not want him near me.
When he finally stepped inside, I was staring at the wall.
I heard the door open.
I recognized his footsteps.
They were slower than usual.
He didn't speak immediately.
Neither did I.
I could see him in the reflection of the dark television screen mounted across from my bed.
He looked terrible.
His hair was disheveled, his face pale, and his shirt was wrinkled as though he had been pulling at it during the drive.
He carried my phone in one hand.
For a moment, I wondered why he had brought it.
Then he placed it on the bedside table.
“I thought you might want this,” he said.
I looked at the phone.
It was the same one he had taken from the kitchen counter earlier that evening.
The screen was dark.
I didn't reach for it.
Dad pulled a chair closer to the bed but didn't sit down immediately.
“Can I sit?””
The question surprised me so much that I looked directly at him.
My father had never asked permission to sit beside me.
He had never asked permission to enter my room, borrow my things, or decide when a conversation was over.
Now he stood beside a hospital chair, waiting for me to answer.
I didn't know what to do with that.
“It's your chair,” I whispered.
He flinched.
Then he sat.
For several seconds, he stared at his hands.
“I didn't know where you were,” he said.
I looked away.
“You didn't look.””
His mouth tightened.
“I thought you'd gone somewhere.””
“Where?””
He didn't answer.
I turned toward him again.
“Where did you think I went, Dad?””
He looked as though he wanted to say something reassuring.
Instead, he lowered his eyes.
“I don't know.””
I laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“You didn't even know whether I had money.””
He said nothing.
“You knew I didn't have my phone. You took it from me.””
His shoulders sagged.
“I know.””
“You knew I didn't have a coat.””
“I know.””
“And you still locked the door.””
His face crumpled for a second.
Then he covered it with one hand.
“I know.””
I stared at him.
Those three words were all he seemed capable of saying.
I had imagined this conversation so many times during the walk that I had prepared dozens of accusations.
I would tell him he had betrayed me.
I would remind him of every time he had believed Karen without asking me what happened.
I would make him understand that I hadn't been given a chance.
But now that he was sitting beside my bed, looking older than I had ever seen him, the words wouldn't come in the order I expected.
I was too tired.
Too hurt.
Too overwhelmed by the fact that he had finally arrived after I had already been found by someone else.
Dad leaned forward.
“When the police called, they told me you were found beside the road.””
I closed my eyes.
“They said you were unconscious.””
I didn't answer.
“I thought…” He stopped, swallowed, and started again.
“I thought I was going to lose you.””
I opened my eyes.
“You thought that after the police called.””
He stared at me.
“What?””
“You didn't think about losing me when you put me outside.””
He looked as though I had struck him.
I hadn't raised my voice.
I didn't need to.
The truth was painful enough without shouting.
Dad reached toward my hand, then stopped before touching it.
“I'm sorry.””
The words came out rough.
I had waited years to hear him apologize for something he had done to me.
But I hadn't imagined hearing them from a hospital chair while my body still ached from the cold.
I looked at his hand.
Then I looked at him.
“For what?””
He blinked.
“For tonight.””
“What part?””
He seemed unable to understand the question.
“What do you mean?””
I took a shallow breath.
“For believing Karen? For calling me a liar? For taking my phone?
For throwing me out? For locking the door?””
He looked down.
“For all of it,” he whispered.
I wanted to accept the apology.
I wanted to believe that the man who had taught me to ride a bicycle was still somewhere inside him.
But an apology couldn't make the night disappear.
It couldn't take the fear out of my body.
It couldn't erase the hours I had spent hoping he would come back for me.
And it couldn't explain why he had believed my sister so easily.
“Why did you believe her?”” I asked.
Dad rubbed his hands together.
“She sounded so certain.””
“So?””
He looked up.
“You were upset. You were shouting. She was crying. I thought—”
“You thought I was guilty because I was upset?””
“No.””
“You told me not to call you Dad.””
His expression collapsed.
I looked away before I could see him cry.
“I kept thinking you'd come back,” I said.
“I kept looking at every car because I thought it might be yours.””
Dad made a broken sound.
“I should have come after you.””
“Yes.””
“I should never have let you leave.””
“Yes.””
“I was wrong.””
I turned toward him.
For the first time, I saw that he wasn't trying to argue.
He wasn't explaining why I had made him angry.
He wasn't blaming the storm, the accusation, or my behavior.
He was simply sitting there, facing the consequences of what he had done.
It should have made me feel better.
It didn't.
Because I had needed that version of him three hours earlier.
Not now.
Not after someone else had found me beside the road.
Not after strangers had taken care of me while my own father stayed home believing that I would eventually apologize.
A knock sounded at the door.
Dad straightened.
Officer Daniels entered with another staff member.
He greeted us and asked whether I felt well enough to answer a few questions.
I hesitated.
Dad immediately started to speak.
“She needs rest. Can't this wait?””
Officer Daniels looked at me rather than him.
“That's entirely up to her. We can return later if she'd prefer.””
I studied the officer's face.
He wasn't asking Dad to decide for me.
He was asking me.
“I can talk,” I said.
Dad lowered his head.
Officer Daniels pulled a chair toward the wall.
“I want to be clear that you don't have to answer anything you're not comfortable answering right now,” he told me.
“Our immediate concern is your safety. We also need to understand what happened before you left home.””
I nodded.
“Can you tell me why you were walking along that road tonight?””
I looked at Dad.
He was staring at the floor.
“My father told me to leave.””
Officer Daniels waited.
“He said he didn't need a sick daughter.””
Dad closed his eyes.
“Why did he say that?”” the officer asked gently.
“Because my sister told him I had drugs.””
“Did you?””
“No.””
My answer came quickly.
I didn't need to think about it.
“Did you know there were pills in your backpack?””
I stared at him.
“What pills?””
“The officers recovered a small plastic bag containing pills from the outer pocket.””
I looked down at my backpack, which wasn't in the room.
Then I shook my head.
“I didn't put anything there.””
Dad lifted his head.
Officer Daniels noticed.
“Mr. Walls, please let your daughter answer in her own words.””
Dad immediately fell silent.
I swallowed.
“I didn't know anything was in my backpack. I only grabbed it because I needed something to carry.””
“Did you see your sister put anything inside it?””
“No.””
“Did she have access to your belongings earlier?””
I hesitated.
“Yes.””
Officer Daniels waited for me to continue.
“She comes into my room whenever she wants. Sometimes she borrows things without asking. Sometimes she takes things and says I lost them.””
Dad's face changed.
I kept talking because, for once, nobody was interrupting me.
“She was near the stairs when I went to get my backpack. She was downstairs when I came back. I don't know whether she touched it.””
“Did you see her place anything inside?””
“No.””
“Do you know why she would accuse you of using drugs?””
I looked at Dad.
He was watching me now.
“I don't know,” I said.
“But she was angry with me before tonight.””
“About what?””
I pressed my lips together.
I wasn't sure how much I should say.
There were things I had noticed over the previous weeks—things that had seemed small at the time but now felt different.
Karen had been asking questions about my school schedule.
She had wanted to know when I would be home and whether Dad would be working late.
She had also become unusually interested in what Dad kept in his desk.
I had assumed she wanted money or was simply being nosy.
I hadn't connected any of it to the accusation.
“I don't know if it's related,” I said carefully, “but she's been acting strange lately.””
Officer Daniels nodded.
“That's all right. We don't need to reach conclusions tonight.””
He wrote something in his notebook.
Then he asked a few more questions about the argument, what I had been wearing, and whether anyone had threatened me before I left.
I answered as clearly as I could.
When he finished, he closed the notebook.
“We'll continue looking into the circumstances surrounding the pills and the events at home. For now, your health comes first.””
He stood.
Before leaving, he looked at my father.
“Mr. Walls, we'll need to speak with you separately as well.””
Dad nodded.
He looked as though he had aged several years in the space of one night.
When the officer left, the room became quiet again.
Dad stood beside the chair.
“I didn't know she had been treating you that way,” he said.
I looked at him.
“You never asked.””
He had no answer.
I pulled the blanket closer and turned toward the wall.
After a moment, I heard him stand.
“I'll be outside if you need anything.””
I didn't respond.
He walked to the door.
Just before he left, I spoke.
“Dad?””
He turned so quickly that I knew he had been waiting for me to call him back.
I looked at him for a long moment.
“Did you ever think to ask me what happened before you decided I was a bad daughter?””
His lips parted.
No words came.
I turned away again.
The door closed softly behind him.
This time, nobody locked it.
But as I lay in that hospital bed, listening to his footsteps fade down the corridor, I realized that an unlocked door didn't mean I was ready to let him back into my life.
Not yet.
And outside the room, Officer Daniels was preparing to ask Karen the same questions she had spent the entire evening avoiding.
May you like
Only this time, she wouldn't be able to answer them by crying and pointing at me.
This time, someone would be listening for the truth.
