Chapter 7. Things Unsaid

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Chapter 7. Things Unsaid

While Stef and Lena were enjoying their grandchildren, Callie sat in the back booth of a shabby diner, sipping a mug of coffee. She rested her chin on her hand, and looked at her watch. It was 3:40, and her father hadn't shown up yet. She was starting to wonder if he'd really come at all.

"You want a warm-up?" A waitress asked, holding a pot of coffee. "It's on the house."

Callie shook her head. "No thank you."

"Okay," the waitress replied, moving on.

Callie was just about to get up and leave, when the bell above the glass door jingled. She looked up, and saw Mr. Jacob enter the diner and look around. He finally spotted her, and came toward her. "Hello, Callie." Callie stood up politely, not knowing if she should expect him to hug her, or shake her hand, or what. Since he didn't appear to be especially excited to see her, she ruled out a hug, and went for a handshake, jutting her hand toward him. He grasped her by the fingertips half-heartedly, then set his hat on the table, and sat down. Callie sat down, too. "So," he began. "What was it you wanted to talk about. I'm guessing it has something to do with seeing my family the other day."

Callie had already had enough. Clenching her jaw, she asked, "How could you? How could you just replace us with another family?" She felt tears sting her eyes, and she tried to force them back.

Her father regarded her coolly. "Callie, I gave up any responsibility I had to you when I gave up my rights to you, so I don't owe you a thing. But if you really want to know the truth, the truth is this: I changed in prison. I'm sober now, have been for a few years. My wife, Linda, and Morgan and Emily, our daughters- they're my second chance."

Callie felt disgusted. "Second chance? What is that supposed to mean?"

Mr. Jacob sighed, rubbing his temples. "They're my chance to stand up and be a man, and take care of what's mine. To start fresh, redeem myself as a father, and move on."

"Start fresh?" Callie asked, suspiciously. "Do they even know about our family?"

"Some," Mr. Jacob replied. "Linda is a recovering alcoholic, like me. They know I was married before, and that my wife died in an accident I caused. They don't know about you and Jude, though. And I don't want them to. It would only hurt them."

Callie couldn't believe what she was hearing. "What about how you hurt us?" She cried. "You killed our mother! You took her away from two little kids who needed her!"

"And I'm sorry, Callie," Mr. Jacob interrupted. "But what do you want me to do about it now? Our family is dead. It died with your mother. And I worked too damn hard to build a new life. Do you think it's been easy living with what happened?" He slammed his fist on the table. "Your mother was my high school sweetheart. And she wasn't the only one who died. I killed a family, too. They had a kid. I've had to live with my mistakes every day. Do you really think that's been easy?"

"Oh, because you've had it so hard," said Callie, bitterly. "You know what? You brought all that on yourself. Jude and I didn't ask for all we had to go through. You abused us. And it didn't end there. Do you even know what our life was like after you went to prison?" She stood up, tired of the weight of things unsaid. Things that had been eating away at her for years.

"Callie, sit down. You're making a scene," Mr. Jacob demanded.

Callie sat down hard on the vinyl seat. "None of your relatives could be bothered to take us in. Our childhood was foster home after foster home, and most of them sucked. I was raped in a foster home. Jude and I were beaten more times than I can count. When Jude was seven, a foster father broke his wrist, just because he wet the bed." She observed her father's hard look, and wanted to hurt him back, to hit him right in the jugular. "And all of that was your fault" She looked him straight in the eye. "It should've been you instead of mom."

"I don't know what to say," said Mr. Jacob. He began to weep. "Sometimes, I wish it was."

Callie wondered if she went too far. She watched her father wipe his eyes with the cuff of his jacket. "Dad... I."

Mr. Jacob lifted his head. "That little girl who was with you. Callie... is she my granddaughter?"

"She's my daughter, if that's what you mean," Callie told him. "But my adoptive parents are her grandparents. I have a baby boy too. They're five years apart, just like me and Jude. And I could never turn my back on them like you did to us. I would die for them."

"Callie, I had a disease," Mr. Jacob replied. "I didn't know what I was doing. I wish you'd understand that." He paused. "Your kids... is their father in the picture?"

"Of course he is," said Callie. "I'd never marry a man like you. He's the nicest, most honorable man I know."

"So, you broke the cycle?" Asked Mr. Jacob, hopefully. "What about Jude?"

Callie nodded. "Both of us did. We were finally adopted into a good family. And neither of us drink, and we never will. Jude is in law school, and I graduated college too, with honors. And my kids are happy, and well taken care of. So, we did it... we made it out of that mess that was our family."

"Then you've done better than I did," her father admitted. "Listen, Callie. I'm sorry you went through so much, but please... don't come to the house again. I like what I've got right now, and I won't lose it."

Callie stood up, ready to leave. "Fine. I won't. I'd never dream of intruding on you, and your 2.5 kids, and your white picket fence. I just hope they never find out who you really are." She stormed out of the diner, and went to the car, where Brandon was waiting. Only then did she let her tears fall.

 

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