Page 64 of All Your Firsts Without Me

Ever since last night, he seems relieved that I’ve given in. I can’t resist whatever this is anymore. He’s become the balm to my broken heart.

We get ready to make the two-hour trip to visit my dad. Both of us quiet but comfortable with each other. Our movements sync together just like the words we wrote last night. It reminds me of the pocket watch my dad used to carry. He would set it on the table beside me when I was being punished so I could watch the minutes tick by slowly. My eyes would trace the gears with both dread and fascination.

“You sure you want to do this?” Westin asks as we step inside the room the guard escorted us to. It’s empty except for a table and three chairs.

“Yes.” I take a seat. Westin sits next to me, keeping my hand firmly gripped in his.

An officer walks my dad in. His hands are cuffed in front of him. He’s still intimidating in height and stature. His hair has greyed, and his beard has grown but he still looks the same after all these years.

I wonder if he notices how much I’ve changed.

He sits down, his gaze starting with Westin before sliding to me. I sit up straighter under his scrutiny. His lip curls in disgust.

“Already moving on from your cop.” He shakes his head in disappointment.

Westin’s hand twitches around mine, but otherwise he remains deadly still.

I don’t even flinch. This is nothing new. Licking my lips, I clear my throat. “I’m sorry to be taking up so much of your time, sir. I just have one question and then we will be on our way.”

Westin releases a tiny grunt when I call my fathersir.

Sometimes words get beaten into you so hard they seep into your bones and no amount of editing can erase them.

My father tilts his head slightly. His eyes drilling into me. “Go on.”

“What did I do?”

“What do you mean,what did you do?” he spits.

“What did I do to make you treat me so differently than the others?”

“You are a sinner,” he says simply.

It’s always the same. I was hoping for more. What did I do that makes my father think so little of me? If I knew maybe I could accept…”

“Stop lying to her,” Westin says calmly beside me. I turn to face him.

“I’m not,” my dad says. “Just look at her, consorting with another man so soon after her husband passed. She’s a hussy, son. Best if you get away while you still can.”

“Tell her,” Westin says, bending forward causing my dad to lean back.

It makes my heart patter happily. I’ve never seen my father back away from anyone.

Westin stabs his finger onto the table. “Tell her you treated her differently because you were scared of her.”

I glance at my dad then back to Westin. What? My dad’s never been afraid of me.

My dad remains silent.

“You knew she was strong, that she would never conform to your ideology. You knew she was stronger than the others. You were scared she was going to see past your bullshit. She would have eventually burned your little cult to the ground.”

I blink at Westin as he glares at my father. My eyes slowly slide to the man who stole my childhood and I see the truth. Westin is telling me the truth. My father was frightened of me and that is why he locked me in the basement. I wasn’t like the others. I wanted to see what the world looked like beyond the confines of my father’s demands. Demands in the name of religion. His religion.

“I’m not scared of her,” my father asserts.

But what he says doesn’t matter. Westin just pulled the curtain back. I’ve spent years pondering the why, and Westin answered my question in a matter of seconds.

I stand up, Westin rising with me. I stare down at my dad for a brief second before walking out of the room, pulling him behind me. Westin jerks me to a stop at the door. He turns back to my father who is watching us walk away. “You have no idea how much you’ve lost.”

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