“Does that mean we can’t be friends?”
“Why are we talking about the past? You’re my sister, and I love you. I advise you to call Dad and explain yourself.” His lack of emotion and empathy shouldn’t surprise me.
“I’ll call him.” I nibble on my lip. “I don’t remember the last time you told me you loved me.”
“Do I need to? We’re family, we don’t have to speak about it.”
“It’s sad that you think so,” I whisper.
“Don’t be sad, just do what you need to.”
“Are you ever sad?”
“There isn’t a point to it. Life goes on, and it’s a waste of time dwelling on things you can’t change,” he grumbles.
“I feel bad,” I say softly.
“Don’t feel bad. Be the daughter you need to be.”
“That’s not what I feel bad about.”
“Haven, I have work to do.”
“I hope someday you realize life isn’t just about work and going through the motions. You can’t ignore everything your whole life.” I press my hand to the wall and bow my head. “Father hit me all the time. He called me names sometimes and ignored me the rest of the time. He tried to control my emotions, thoughts, and actions. I hoped you wouldn’t follow in his footsteps, but it seems you have. If you ever get married and I find out you're doing the same to her or your kids, I will find a way to stop it. I’m not going to talk to you again. There is no point. I’m hurt you don’t seem to care about me at all.”
“Haven…” He stalls, probably searching for something to say.
“Nothing to say? Now is the time to do it because you won’t have any other opportunity.” I wait. And wait some more. “I won’t be living there anymore. I’ve moved.” I pause, but he remains silent. “Think about the things I said. Maybe someday I’ll check in and see if you have realized what an unfeeling dick you’ve been.” This time, I don’t wait and hang up.
I navigate to my father’s number and hesitate. Taking a deep breath, I tip my head back and gather all the courage I have. Rolling my shoulders, I look down and press his name.
“Young lady—”
“Father,” I say quickly. “Do you remember when I was nine, and we hadn’t found out Mom was sick yet, and we went to a movie? Mom bought me a princess dress. It was yellow with ruffles, and I wanted to wear it. You encouraged me to, and told me how beautiful I was. I barely remember what we watched because I was so happy to hold onto your arm and sit between my two favorite people in the world. You bought me popcorn and candy. It was the best night. When we got home, you carried meto bed because I fell asleep in the car. I woke up when we got to my room, and you tucked me in and told me a story about a prince rescuing the princess.” I blink rapidly and sit on the edge of the bed. “That was the last good memory I have of you. Mom got sick, and left us, and you became a different person. I know you loved her, but I did too. She was beauty in every form, and when she left, the light went out of our home. It became sterile and cold. You worked all the time and hardly spoke to me. When you did, it was with anger and disdain. I did everything my little heart could to gain your attention, to have you love me again, but you never did. I understand how hurt you were, but Mom was gone, and I was still there. I needed you. I wished on all the stars for you to be my safe space and change back. All of my wishes then turned to a prince coming to get me. I finally got my wish, except the universe sent me four of them.” I exhale roughly.
“Do you need an apology?” he asks quietly.
I laugh. “No, because I don’t think you’ll mean it. Maybe, years ago, if you didn’t hit me, we could move past all the anger. Now, I can’t forgive you. I stopped trying to make excuses for your behavior.”
“Your mother was the love of my life.”
“I know. She was one of a kind, and I was devastated when she was gone. I feel bad you lost her.”
“You can’t understand,” he says.
“Maybe, but I could sympathize.” I think of losing my mates. “I was a child. As harsh as it sounds, you still had a responsibility to me, to William. We could have helped each other grieve.”
“You couldn’t help me. It’s the past, why are we talking about it now?”
“You’re right,” I sigh. “Sometimes I forget you don’t have emotions anymore.”
“You need to come home.”
“No. I won’t ever come back,” I say firmly.
“Haven, you can’t just move without discussing it with me.”
“You’re wrong. You lost the right to know anything about my life a long time ago. I found a home. A real one. Filled with people who care about family, whether you are blood or found. This is where I’m supposed to be. I let you control me for too long. It’s my fault that I didn’t set my boundaries after I moved out. I thought it was easy to have our weekly phone calls and listen to your lectures. Never again. I’m living my life for me, not you.”
