“Thank you for agreeing to see me today,” Dad said.
I inclined my head but said nothing. I took the seat he gestured to, holding on to my anger, which burned like a hot poker.
“Why?” I asked.
That one word hung in the air, laden with unspoken questions.
Why did you do it? What did you lie? Why wasn’t I enough?
He stared out the window, not answering for a long time. At least it felt like a long time; it could’ve been minutes, for all I knew. I tapped my foot, annoyed with myself for doing it and the noise. But I didn’t stop.
“You know what?” I stood, faced with a sudden realization. “I don’t want to hear it.”
I knew no matter what he said, it wouldn’t change my mind. He’d lied. He’d cheated. That was all I needed to know.
“Wait.” I halted at the commanding tone of his voice. It took me back to one of the few times I’d been caught sneaking in past curfew. And it produced a knee-jerk reaction, an instinct to stop and listen, despite not wanting to hear what he had to say. “I know you hate me,” he said in a softer tone. “But at least give me the chance to tell my side of the story.”
“Why should I?”
“You’ve come all this way,” he said. “Even if you don’t want answers, I think you need closure. I know I do. When I look back on my life, how I handled the situation with you and your sister is my greatest regret.”
He was right—I did want closure. I hadn’t had the chance to talk with my mom before she’d died. Even as estranged as my dad and I were, did I really want to give up that chance with him?
I shuffled back over to the armchair and took a seat. “Fine,” I huffed. “Let’s get on with it.”
He chuckled. “Ah, there’s my girl.”
I was about to correct him that I was no one’s girl—least of all his—when he placed a hand to his side, wincing in pain. I swallowed back my retort and let it slide. For now.
“Your mother and I…we weren’t a traditional couple. A white man with a Dominican woman. Now, no one would think twice if they passed us on the street. But back then—” He shook his head. “Things were different.”
He smiled wistfully. “But it was always us against the world.”
“So, what happened?”
“Life, I suppose,” he sighed. “Over time, the things that had brought us together seemed to tear us apart. We loved you and your sister, but our marriage felt hollow.
“Your mother and I—” He hesitated, seeming to consider his words carefully. “We never quite understood each other. There was always a bit of a cultural barrier, but it was more than that. We didn’twantto understand each other.”
I could remember their fights. Remember the closed doors and the muffled shouts. Remember the tears. Somehow, though, I’d forgotten that—glossed over it in my memories, preferring to believe it hadn’t happened. It was easier to cast my father as the villain, especially after my mom died.
I hugged myself tighter, bracing for what came next. My stomach felt as if I’d reached the peak of the roller coaster and the car was about to come racing down.
“We’d discussed divorce several times before finally deciding it was the best solution.” His admission sucked the air from my lungs. I shook my head as if I could block out his words, but he continued speaking. “We’d agreed to wait until you’d graduated high school and were in college. I started seeing Jennifer, but we were very discreet. But then…” He trailed off, and I realized it was because I knew the answer.
“Mom got sick.” I finished the sentence for him.
He nodded, his expression solemn. “I couldn’t leave her. Didn’t want to. Not when our family needed me most.”
I remembered all the things he’d done to care for my mom, taking her to doctor’s appointments, bringing her food in bed, all while still making sure my homework was done and we were fed. Now that I knew the truth—that he’d been in love with another woman—I viewed his actions in a new light. Maybe it was an act of atonement, but it also seemed like the type of thing you’d do only if you really loved someone.
“What about Jennifer?” I asked, wondering what his involvement was with her while my mom was fighting for her life.
He stared out the window again. I wanted so badly for him to tell me that he didn’t see her, that he’d ended things. But I knew from his twisted expression that wasn’t the case.
“I saw her, but not as often. She was a pillar of support for me during that time. I wouldn’t have survived without her. I wouldn’t have been able to care for your mom or you girls during that time had Jennifer not been there for me.”
“Wow,” I scoffed.
