Growing up McGarrett

My Side of the Story - part 1

I hesitate. What do I tell him? Do I give him all the details? There are definitely some he's not going to be happy to hear. I look over at him and he is tucking into his breakfast but at the same time looking at me expectantly. Nothing gets between my dad and food. I open my mouth to speak but can't and instead I sigh and run my hands through my hair. He finishes his food, wipes his mouth and pushes his empty plate away. Then he leans forward elbows on the table, resting his chin on his clasped hands. He's looking at me very calmly, lovingly, encouraging me to open up. Then I think he realises nothing is coming from me any time soon so he sits back in his chair and says "Ok, I'll start".
"I'm sorry" he says, "you are right I have been angry since Catherine left and you have felt that anger most". "I was and am still, very hurt and confused by her leaving like that, but that is not an excuse to be a bad father". "I really hope you can forgive me". I smile and nod at him not trusting myself to speak. "Please eat some of your food Sam" he continues pushing my plate closer to me. I pick up my fork and start moving the food around again. "But being a good father to you doesn't mean me being your best friend either, sometimes I have to be a hardass, it's part of the job description". "My anger and disappointment yesterday were not born out of being in a bad mood and neither was your punishment".  "But maybe you think I was too hard on you?" Shit how do I answer that one? Was he too hard on me? Did I deserve my punishment? I bite my lip and try to work out how I feel. He waits for an answer and I know he wants me to get to the conclusion that I did deserve it and admit to my wrongdoings. This is usually the preamble to a punishment not a post-mortem conversation. "It's just" I start to say shakily but again I stop. "Just what?" he asks. He says it with gentleness and warmth, encouraging me to continue. I keep my eyes on my plate, watching a mushroom as I push it around with my fork. "It's just, you usually talk to me" I eventually continue, "ask me my side of the story before you decide what, if any punishment is warranted".
After a long pause I look up to see him sitting back in the chair, his elbows are resting on the arms and he has his fingers clasped together at his chin. He's frowning like he's trying to work something out. I skewer the wayward piece of mushroom and put it in my mouth. Better to at least seem like I'm doing what I'm told. I have to chew it for ages before I can swallow. The tension is killing me. I drop the fork back on the plate, fuck it I don't want to pretend anymore. The clang seems to jolt him back to the present. He lets it go without commenting but I know he's taken in how much, or how little, I've eaten. "Ok" he says, "what is your side of the story?" This time I've got to tell him, it's what I wanted, for him to want to know, to care.
I take a deep breath and start. "Since the beginning of the year Bitchf, I mean Ms. Higgins, has taken a dislike to me". I glance up at his face and see his eyes have changed slightly from encouraging to warning. Shit that was close! I look away again, down at my hands playing with a piece of my offending skirt. "I really don't know why but I could do nothing right in her class". "My homework was always below standard, she scoffed at my answers in class and my grades dropped from As and Bs to Cs and Ds".  Dad sat up looking puzzled. I knew he was wondering how he didn't know my grades had dropped that much but I sent him a look that said please don't ask me that, not yet and he stayed quiet listening to me continue. "I tried everything to get on her good side but it never seemed to work and I ended up in detention for no reason. Helen had asked me for a spare pen, when I gave it to her she thanked me and I told her she was welcome and got given detention for talking in class. Not Helen. Just me." I rushed all of that out hoping he wouldn't pull me up on it but of course he did. "Hang on", he said sitting forward, "how is it that I didn't know you got a detention?" The tone of his voice had shifted. There was an edge to it, like he knew he wasn't going to be happy with my answer. "I, I, I," I stuttered. Closing my eyes, my butt and stomach scrunched tight, I continue. "I forged your signature on the detention slip" I eventually admit it. He stands up and I flinch. Crap, crap, crap, what is he going to do? But he strides away from me into the living room and paces. I realise he is calming himself down but I'm not really comforted by that. He walks back in and stands behind his chair gripping it tightly and glaring at me. I decide to continue before he can start yelling. "I realised then that no matter what she hated me so I started giving her reason to". He sighs "Sam!" . "I know" I quickly say,"but she was being so unfair". "You know I love English and I'm good at it, but I don't just regurgitate what the teacher tells me." "I like to read the poems and stories and take my own interpretation, as long as I back it up that should be ok." "But not for Bitchface" I say anger getting the better of me. "Samantha!" He snaps and I realise what I said. "Sorry, Ms. Higgins" I rectify. "Final warning" he growls. "Yes sir" I mumble.
I get up from my seat. "Where are you going?" he asks. "I'll be back in a sec, just hang on" I reply as I run upstairs. I got to my room, open a drawer in my desk and pull out a stack of papers. I return to the dining room to see dad coming out of the kitchen, the table has been cleared. He has obviously given up on me eating, thankfully. He sits back down and looks at me questioningly. He seems calmer. I sit holding the bunch of papers tightly. The top page has a huge D- on it, standing out in red ink. I know I have to show these to him now but next to the grade is my neat forgery of his signature and that terrifies me. "These are my assignments so far". "Please, before you get mad, read them". With that I place the bundle of papers in front of him. I see his eyes land on the D- and then his jaw clenches as he sees his name, not in his writing but damn close.