Page 96 of Time for Change

But maybe that’s for the best. Perhaps it’s a blessing in disguise that Stevie ended it now instead of later. I would havefallen deeper in love with her, wanting to spend my every waking minute in her presence, only to discover my daughter isn’t happy, and as a parent, we have to put our children first. Before our own personal happiness. That’s the unwritten vow we take when they’re born, to always love and protect them.

The fact Stevie wasn’t born into that type of household has never sat well with me, so I can understand her position. I can appreciate her understanding and insight into parenting from a different angle. I was born into a loving home, while she was not. The way we were raised is night and day different in most areas. She knows what it feels like to be always left out, with no choices or options.

That’s why I’m listening to her on this and following her lead.

At the end of the day, we can’t force Gianna to like her, and if our relationship continues to grow, we’ll all be put in terrible situations we can’t overcome. Our relationship feels doomed, despite wanting to give it our best effort.

This sucks.

Utterly fucking sucks donkey balls.

Just as I’m flipping the first batch of pancakes, Gianna comes down the stairs. I poke my head into the living room and notice her sitting on the couch beside her brother, watching cartoons. Knowing I won’t have too many opportunities to talk to her without her brother right beside me, I say, “Hey, Gi. Wanna come help me set the table?”

She glances my way and nods. “Okay.”

“Pancakes will be ready shortly, buddy. I’ll holler at you when it’s time to eat,” I tell him, earning me a wide, toothy grin.

In the kitchen, Gianna goes over to the cabinet and grabs some plates. I watch as she pulls three forks out of the drawer and takes them to the counter. Usually when we’re eatingbreakfast, we just eat at the bar, which is perfect, since I’m using the griddle on the opposite side from where she works.

“Hey, Gi, can I talk to you about last night?”

There’s no missing the look of panic on her face as she gazes up at me. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Stevie said you two had some words.” I hold my daughter’s eye as I ask, “Do you not like Stevie?”

She just stares at me, and I can tell she’s struggling with how much to say.

“Because if you don’t, that’s okay. I mean, I would never force you to be friends with Stevie because I am, if you don’t truly want to be, but I would like you to be honest with me. Why don’t you like her?”

She shrugs, adjusting the forks on napkins at each of the three place settings. “I just don’t.”

“Okay,” I quickly reassure her.

“Did she do or say something to you?” I push, hoping to get to the bottom of this.

Again, she lifts her shoulders. She avoids my gaze as she states, “She’s just not nice to me.”

That catches me by surprise, because all the interactions I’ve witnessed have been completely the opposite. “What do you mean?”

She gets mad now, crossing her arms over her chest. “She’s just mean, and I don’t like her.”

“Okay,” I quickly reply, wanting to assure her her voice is being heard. “I understand.”

I don’t, but I don’t want to keep pushing.

When the pancakes are finished, she finally asks, “Is she coming over?”

“No,” I state, placing the platter in the middle of the counter.

She nods, and my heart breaks even more by the fact she looks relieved.

“Can you call your brother for breakfast?” I ask, moving to the fridge to get the milk and orange juice.

“Christian!” she hollers without moving a muscle.

“I meant quietly go into the living room and ask him to join us.”

Christian comes running into the kitchen and climbs up onto the barstool he usually sits to the right of my seat. “This worked better,” Gianna tells me, taking her own seat and reaching for two pancakes.

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