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CHAPTER 15

It had been a day and a half since my dad had returned home from prison so I wasn't surprised when he knocked on my bedroom door demanding we talk.

It was about time - eight years was no joke.

I watched as my dad got frustrated trying to get comfortable on the yellow bean bag next to my bed, but unfortunately because of my his rather tall frame, as soon as his butt hit the bean bag, it flattened and it made him look quite silly. I only just about kept in my giggle, exchanging it for a violent cough. My dad who was not to be fooled gave me an evil look, not at all pleased that I was using his unfortunate position as entertainment for myself.

"Dad, if the roles were reversed, you'd be laughing too", I said half- giggling as he vainly tried to get himself seated on the bean bag.

After a few failed attempts, he stretched out an arm towards me, "Help me get off this damn thing. I don't understand how you supposed to sit down on it, if it ain't even comfortable."

Laughing, I walked over to my dad's outstretched arm and pulled him up until he was standing on both feet.

"I don't think that beanbag was designed for your height or age."

In response I got a displeased grunt asnj he sat opposite me on the bed. For a small second he had a sombre expression as he looked at me and the growing silence had started to get on my nerves.

"What?" I asked eventually to ease the awkwardness - I couldn't help but think he was wondering how he got himself an ugly daughter.

"I just can't believe that my baby girl has grown up to be...so...grown - you was ten when I went away and I was still able to give you piggy back rides, play hide and seek with you...but now...I can't even do those things with you, you're not a child anymore."

One by one, salty tears slipped out of my eyes and raced down my cheeks at the guilt and regret heavy in my dad's voice.

"I'm sorry Esther, I know I haven't been the best dad and I'm sorry for the shit your mum, brother and you have had to go through 'cos of me."

No one could ever argue against the fact that I was a daddy's girl, but I couldn't help feel some sort of resentment towards my dad with everything that had happened. It was just hard to let go of the fact that things could have been different if he had thought more about how his actions would affect our family.

"I know there's no excuse as to why I did what I did, but the only reason I did what I did was to give you, your brother and your mum, what I never had growing up."

"Yeah, I know dad," I croaked out as I grabbed some tissue from my bedside.

It was only when I was sixteen that my dad actually admitted that he'd been convicted on money laundering charges - I had to force it out of him by threatening not write to again unless he told me. He never told me the finer details of his charges, I guess because he was remorseful and so I didn't press him for it. When I was younger he'd give me some bull-crap about he was going on holiday for a while and I'll get to visit him from time to time.

The first time that we did visit him in prison, a then one-year old Bobby kept pointing at inmates faces that scared him and wouldn't stop screaming until security asked us to leave.

Time passed and between moving houses two hours away from the prison and changing schools, taking care of the house and Bobby whilst my mum went to work and going through puberty earlier and faster than others and being picked on for it, meant that visits to my dad became less and less frequent. I probably only ever got the chance to see him once or twice a year.

"Es look at me...", and when I did I had to look away again because his eyes were shiny with unshed tears, "it's probably going to take some time for everyone to get over the past and get comfortable with the transition, but what's important is that we're here together now."

Hearing that made it seem more real, as I had a hard time believing my dad was finally home and to stay.

By then, the tissue I had been using was soaked with snot, so I got up to get more tissue from the bathroom but then my dad stopped me. "Here."

"Seriously? You had some on you the whole time and you just sat there and watched me dribble snot all over my face?"

"What? I was caught up in the moment," he said defending himself as he passed the packet of pocket tissue he'd taken out from his back pocket.

"If you say so."

"I do," he answered but then changed topic as I turned on my side and blew into the tissue, "so are you in your graduating year?"

When I was done cleaning my nose I turned back round to face my dad. "Yeah I am."

"Have you decided what you're going to do after you graduate?"

"I'm going to take a year out and get some work experience."

That got my dad interested and we got into a twenty minute conversation about my plans. It felt unbelievably good to just be able to tell my him everything I wanted to say instead of having to wait a week or a month for a reply- and to be honest writing wasn't my forte. There was always so much that I'd want to say that I'd had to leave out because it would be too much to write and I always had a sneaky suspicion that there were being read by the prison officers- but obviously that had never been proven and basically it was just so much effort writing.

"So d'you like it round here?"

"It's okay..." I replied fidgeting with my shirt sleeve, not liking the direction that the conversation was now going.

"It's okay? In my head that does not sound too reassuring...something's up."

I wanted to tell my dad everything else that was going on with me but I felt I shouldn't, because in my mind I should've been old enough to deal with my silly playground problems on my own.

"I don't know what it is daddy, but people just don't seem to like me - I think it's because of how I look."

"And what about how you look makes them not like you?"

"I'm ugly and fat."

"And how do you see yourself?"

"Ugly and fat."

"If that's all you see then you really are shallow as the rest of them."

It was a challenging task holding my tears back. I didn't know what was more hurtful the fact that my dad didn't bother denying what I thought of myself or that he'd called me shallow.

Without sensing when he'd moved closer I felt my dad's arm go round my shoulders before bringing my head closer to his chest, it was like wearing a huge warm jacket.

"Esther, if you haven't noticed you've got yourself a very handsome looking dad and a beautiful mother, so you saying others think you're ugly, makes no sense to me."

I couldn't help but burst out laughing against my dad's chest at hearing him say that in the most serious of voices.

And there I was thinking Angelo was the only one who thought so highly of his looks.

"Do you ever wonder why rich people or people of influence tend to look more attractive?"

"Yeah, because they have money."

"Okay and how did they get that money?"

"They work."

"Exactly Esther", he said pulling me away but holding my hands, "they work so they don't have time to focus on what's not really important. Esther, you need to work, explore and find out what God has put in you not focus what he's put on you. What He's put on you is already perfect, whether you think it or not."

That was some heavy philosophical stuff from my dad and as usual before I could even fully process what he'd said he swiftly changed the topic.

"Who's Angelo?"

"Huh? Who's Ang-who?"

"Don't play with me girl."

"Dad, I really do not know who you're talking about."

"Okay then. So what's this I hear about you smacking into someone else's car, the police coming into the house and you becoming someone else's maid?"

I reminded myself to thank my mother for snitching on me.

Wiping the sweat from my palms on my bedclothes, I looked anywhere but my dad as I said, "It's true, daddy."

"Well mind explaining?"

"There's nothing to explain."

"Esther don't even test my patience, I've just got out from jail the last thing I need to find out is that my daughter is in trouble with the law. Do you realise that makes me even feel worse about myself as a father than I already do?"

"It's not like that dad. Angelo - I mean Mr. Henriquez and I agreed on an out of court settlement", I quickly explained desperately hoping that my dad hadn't noticed my million dollar slip up.

My dad noticed it all right, a slow smile curved on his lips and I bowed my head in defeat ready for his reaction.

"So you're on a first name basis with this guy which means there is something more to the story, why did you lie?"

"I dunno", I said shrugging my shoulders.

The truth is I really did not know why I was lying to my dad about knowing Angelo. Maybe I was trying to protect him from my dad, but protecting him from what? Or maybe I was scared he wasn't going to accept him, but accept him as what?

Not liking my confusing thoughts, I was about to open my mouth to apologize but my dad beat me to it, "Whoever Angelo Henriquez is better just be keeping my daughter's services to him professional."

If I watching another dad tell his daughter mine had told me I would have laughed, but this was my reality where instead of a response my mouth opened wide like a gaping fish.

Before I could say anything back, the door to my room swung open and there came in Bobby with an impatient expression on his face.

I knew that Bobby deserved to spend more time with my dad since he was practically just getting to know him, so I smiled knowing that my dad and I had had enough time bonding and it was now my brother's turn.

 












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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.