Once, refusing him would have filled me with guilt.
Now I called him.
“I won’t lend you money.”
“You haven’t even heard the amount.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m your father.”
“Yes.”
“I supported you for eighteen years.”
“You were my parent.”
His voice rose.
“You have eighteen million dollars because your family died!”
The room became silent around me.
He heard himself too late.
I ended the call.
Then I blocked his number again.
That sentence destroyed the last fantasy that his concern had ever been
primarily about my well-being.
PART 19 — MOM CHOOSES
Mom came to see me again.
This time she called first.
I agreed to meet in a public park.
She looked tired.
“Your father shouldn’t have said that.”
“No.”
“He’s under pressure.”
“Stop.”
She blinked.
“Do not explain him to me.”
Her mouth trembled.
“I don’t know how to fix this.”
“You can’t fix the funeral.”
“I know.”
“You can’t fix six months of silence.”
“I know.”
