The Sinner

105

It was day 2 of seeing my dad at home. Everything felt good. My dad was having a quick recovery, the nurses were being kind to him, they even broke the news that he would get to go home in a couple of days. But there was just something telling me to go see him.

Call it intuition, if you will. Or maybe I'm just fucking crazy.

But something inside of me was telling me to go to the fourth floor of this hospital to see Rafe. Maybe it was the part of me that still wanted closure. Or maybe it was the part of me that just wanted to check in on him after radio silence on both our parts.

I kept reminding myself that I shouldn't feel this way. I'm in a relationship, a healthy one at that. I should be focusing on Palmer, because that's where my loyalty lies right now.

But then again, would it really hurt to even just see Rafe?

Yes, yes it would, A voice says to me in my head. Remember the pain he put you through. You don't want to go running back to that.

Right — what am I possibly thinking? It's completely insane to want to go see him. Just because you guys are near each other doesn't mean that he's still meant to be in your life.

Think of all the progress that I've made. I'm finally at a good place in life, I'm finally at peace with things. There isn't any room for boys that treat you like garbage.

But then again, what if he changed?

After all, six years is a long time for someone to mature. He's twenty six now, that's a long time for improvement. Look how much I've changed in six years.

I go back and forth with myself about this for a long time. It feels like hours go by. It might've been hours at this point honestly. Sometimes I don't know the difference when I'm stuck in my own head overthinking like this.

"Corrine?" My father's voice sounds, breaking my thoughts that definitely needed to be broken. "Are you okay sweetheart?"

"Yeah," I smile at him, "Are you?"

He chuckles, "I'm fine. I'll tell you girls this until I'm blue in the face, I don't need to worry about me."

"That's what family does," I remind him, "You worry when bad things like this happen."

"I know—"

"—You'd be worried sick if this happened to me. Wouldn't you?"

"Yes but—"

"—Don't you dare use the 'I'm a girl and you need to worry about me' excuse."

He closes his mouth, and rethinks what he was about to say. I know him too well at this point, his my dad for Christ sakes. The misogynistic comments had to have come out at some point.

"She got you there Mike," Maggie says, a smirk on her lips.

"You're my daughter," My dad rewords his sentence, "Of course I have to worry about you. Just as I'd worry about my son."

"Better," I smile.

"Will you get me a soda from the cafeteria?" He asks, reaching over to the table that slides to grab his brown wallet.

"Are you allowed to have one?"

"Of course I am. What do you think this is, prison?"

My eyes flash to Maggie, and she nods, telling me that he was allowed. I stand from the uncomfortable chair I was sitting in. And watch as he pulls out a ten dollar bill.

"I don't need your money, I can afford to buy my dad a soda," it came out a lot more hostile than I intended it to be. But he's been giving me a hard time for the past day about my career choice as a teacher. So maybe he deserved that.