Goldilocks and the three playboys

Coffee and confessions

"I need to tell you something." I whisper, placing the last dish in the cupboard. I hang the tea towel across the oven railing before turning right around to face my dad.

He tilts his head. "Are you okay kid?"

"Yeah of course." I reply.

I lead the way to the living room sitting on one of the single love seats. He takes the one across from me with a smile, not knowing what I have to say next will be far off from the expression he is showing right now. I've held this off for a week because of fear, not for what he would do to me but over his reaction. The guilt is eating at me and I never had the need to hold of information from my dad until now, but I owe him this and only now do I regret not telling him sooner.

I lean forward so that my elbows are resting on my thighs, my fingers tremble under my chin as I try to hold my head up. "So ummm, remember that time when you told me that if I ever touched anything to do with weed or drugs in general you'd send me back to Venezuela?"

Dad stops smiling immediately and his eyebrows begin to furrow. He takes a disappointing breath out and straightens his posture slightly to reflect the 'angry but responsible dad' figure.

"Are you trying to tell me you smoked weed?" He hisses lowly.

"No. I've never in my life touched anything weed related." He relaxes at my reply but then the look on his face turns to confusion. "But...I met up with Diana last week on my birthday."

"What does this have to do about wee–" He stops and his eyes shoot back up to me. "I'm sorry? You what?"

"I met up with my mother." I whisper. "It was purely a coincidence for the both of us."

Dad doesn't say a single thing, I'm almost scared that he has stopped breathing for a moment. He just sits there staring at me and I can't quite read what he's thinking, his face is blank and now the guilt has started all over again. Now I'm getting nervous, because the silence that is surrounding us right now is down right uncomfortable.

My leg bounces up and down eager for him to say something. "Dad?"

He still doesn't say anything but his head drops into his hands and I see him rubbing at his eyes ferociously. I quickly take off from my chair and kneel in front of him, my hands gently wrapping around his forearms. What the hell did I just do!

"I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry Dad! I swear I wasn't going to meet up with her but I was so mad at her for everything she did to us. I just wanted to give her a piece of my mind and reminder her of how good she had it before she left."

I sigh. "I'm sorry I should've asked if it was okay to go see her, I wasn't thinking and I regret it a lot now. Please Dad, can you just say something please."

He lifts his head from his hands and immediately I spot the redness around his eyes. Not from crying, he wasn't crying at all. But his eyes just screamed frustration, hurt maybe even guilt but I know I should be the one feeling guilty not him. His eyes are still closed and his chest is falling and elevating from his heaving breathing. I don't know what to say anymore, I can't tell how he's feeling and at the same time I'm to afraid to ask.

He finally opens his eyes but they're not looking at me, they are somehow dazed looking in a distance over my head. "Please don't be mad. I promise to not see her again Dad."

Then all of a sudden reality crashes in front of him and he sees me. His eyes soften and he  sends a hand through his hair releasing some of that frustration. He nods but not to me but to himself. I find myself waiting patiently in front of him, waiting for him to say something...anything. My hands are now at my sides pushing off the ground to stand but he stops me suddenly.