73 Memories

The Twenty-Eighth Memory

He's in the living room.

You responded almost immediately. On my way over.

True to your word, less than a minute later the doorbell sounded and I came from where I'd been waiting for you in the kitchen. I pulled the door open and saw you standing there, smiling. "Are you ready to do this?" You whispered, and I nodded, pulling the door open wider so you could walk in.

You did, and you went to sit directly across from my father on the couch.

He looked at you with an unimpressed look on his face. "Ah, it's you. The boy who's ruined everything we've built here. Tell me, kid, what are you doing here?"

"She's not leaving," you said bluntly, and to that, my dad scoffed. I knew that the plan was working already. He was going to blow up soon, and yell about how I'd ruined everything.

"What makes you think she's got the choice to stay here? Or that Amelia would even want to?"

I watched as your eyes turned hard. "That's not her name. Do you know what her name is?"

"Amelia is her birth given name," my father shrugged.

"But it's not who she is."

Again, my father shrugged. "Who cares. Point being, why do you think she wants to stay?"

You smiled, but it was more of a smug smile than a real one. "Because she loves me." You paused for effect. "And I love her."

There was a long silence in the room until my dad busted out laughing. Here we go. When he got his laughter under control, he spoke. "You love her? That's hilarious. You think you want to spend the rest of your existence with this broken thing over here?" Dad pointed at me with his thumb before continuing. "You want to grow old with a girl who could be as psychotic as her mother? She'll kill your kids, too!"

There they were, the words I knew he'd say. The reason he avoided me like the plague. He thought I was her just as much as I was scared I would be.

And so, as rehearsed, you exploded, standing up. "Don't you ever speak to her like that!" You shouted. "She's worth more than you've ever been, you know that? You may have lost your son and wife, but you still had her! Despite everything, she loved you and you ignored her! I love her more than you ever have, and I'm only in high school! I can't believe you think that you have the right to determine how your seventeen-year-old daughter gets to live when you don't even know her first name," you finished, and the words sounded like venom. I knew that it wasn't so much acting anymore. You really got into it with my father, and the words we rehearsed were lost in space as you used your own. 

"You'll hurt her, boy. You'll tell everyone about her mother, and she'll be known as the crazy girl she is!" My dad stood up so he didn't feel as small as I knew he was on the inside.

"She's not crazy!" You yelled and then lowering your voice, you spoke, "Why would I hurt her if I love her?" I could tell you believed the words, but I also knew that you had made the words small and whimper-like for effect.

"You know what? Fine. She can stay. But I won't. I'll sell this house and move without her, and I'll probably be happier that way. But you-" my father turned to me and pointed a finger at my body. "Don't you ever come running back because he broke your heart. You're on your own now."

He left the room, done with everything.
Done with me.

He never did leave though, so I guess the promise of ditching me was as empty as the man who made it.