PART 11 – My Father Wanted an Explanation, but I Wanted Him to Remember the Question He Had Answered So Easily the Night Before

That afternoon, my phone rang again.

This time, Richard's name appeared.

I answered.

"Nicole."

His voice sounded different.

Not gentle.

Not apologetic.

Just controlled.

"Your mother tells me David has spoken to you."

"Yes."

"We need to discuss this."

I looked toward Leo.

He was sitting on the carpet, arranging a few small toys I had brought in my bag.

"What do you want to discuss?"

"The property."

I waited.

He continued.

"You should have told us you were involved."

I leaned back in the chair.

"I didn't think it was necessary."

"Of course it was necessary."

I looked at the hotel desk.

There was a small cup of coffee beside my laptop.

I hadn't touched it.

"Why?"

"Because we're your parents."

That answer stayed with me.

I thought about the Thanksgiving table.

I thought about the cranberry juice.

I thought about my mother calling Leo a mistake.

I thought about my father's hand gripping my coat.

"You told me to leave," I said.

He exhaled sharply.

"That was an argument."

"It was your decision."

"I was angry."

"So was I."

He became quiet.

Then he said something I hadn't expected.

"Your mother says you are taking this too far."

I looked at Leo again.

He was concentrating on fitting two small pieces together.

I lowered my voice.

"Did you ask him whether he was okay?"

My father didn't respond.

"Did you ask where we went?"

Nothing.

"Did you wonder whether he had somewhere warm to sleep?"

Richard finally spoke.

"Nicole, don't turn this into something it isn't."

I felt my jaw tighten.

"It is exactly what it is."

He started to say something.

I interrupted him.

"I asked you whether you were sure you wanted us to leave."

He didn't answer.

"Do you remember what you said?"

A long pause followed.

Then he replied.

"I remember."

I waited for an apology.

It didn't come.

Instead, he asked me to speak to David and explain that the family needed more time.

I told him David was handling the property matter.

Then I ended the call.

I didn't feel better.

I had wanted my father to acknowledge what he had done.

Instead, he had asked me to help him manage the consequences.

That evening, I sat beside Leo while he watched a children's program.

He leaned against my arm.

I kissed the top of his head.

For once, I wasn't thinking about how to repair the relationship with my parents.

I was thinking about what kind of family environment I wanted my son to grow up in.

That was a different question.

And it deserved a different answer.

Click here to continue reading: PART 12: The Papers Were Still on My Father’s Table, and for the First Time I Stopped Feeling Responsible for Making Everything Comfortable