The entire room holds its breath for a heartbeat. Then my father’s face crumples.
Not a little bit.
Completely.
“You’re right to be angry,” his voice is smaller than I’ve ever heard it before. “You’re right to hate me. I’ve never known how to be a good father to you, but I tried the best way I could.”
I want to scoff, but I know he believes his words. Who am I to say that he could have done better anyway?
“When I watched the video, I saw it. The way he stepped in front of you. The way he shielded you. I could feel his care for you from the moment you stepped inside the store,” he admits.
A lump forms in my throat and I try to swallow past it. The tears still come. I still don’t know how Titus is doing.
“I don’t know what I was expecting to see on the video,” he shakes his head, his eyes pleading with me, “but I wasn’t expecting to see him protect you like that.” He swallows hard. “I’m sorry, Ezra. For what I said and for not listening.”
His words wash over me, and I close my eyes for a second. It’s not enough. The words simply aren’t enough.
I don’t know if they ever will be.
When I go to stand up, Lara is right there with me, supporting me. I’m grateful because my legs feel like wet noodles. But I’m tired of him standing over me.
Not for this.
It’s not the place for this conversation, but I’m not going to be quiet anymore.
“You’ve never listened,” I tell him, the words quiet even in this room filled with people. “You have never once asked me what I want and you’ve never tried to learn about who I am.” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s not just about what you said at the gate or you not taking me seriously at the fair. It’s everything, Dad,” my voice splinters on the last word and I clear my throat.
I don’t want to break. Not here. Not in front of him.
I’m already cracked; it wouldn’t take much at this point.
“It’s everything. My entire life. Your job. The badge being more important than anything else.”
The sentences are fragments, feelings, and moments I’m just too exhausted to pull together into anything more coherent. Not right now.
“I understand,” Dad says and nods.
For the first time I can remember, his eyes are sad when he looks at me.
“I’d like to stay, if that’s okay?”
It’s not a demand wrapped up in a question. It’s genuine.
But I’m not ready and I can’t manage him and all the years between us right now.
I shake my head, my voice barely there, “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
His head falls and he takes a deep breath. When he looks at me again, I can see the regret there.
I’m just too tired to care right now. My hands are shaking as Dad nods once. Then he turns on his heel and walks out the door again.
I watch his back, unsure if I made the right choice. Before I can think too much about it, Vera is there and sweeping me into her arms.
“You were so brave,” she whispers into my hair. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I love him,” I say the words so quietly, like they’re fragile and precious.
“I know you do. He’s going to be fine,” her tone holds no room for arguments, as if her will alone is enough to make it so.
