The argument replays in my mind constantly, looping like a broken film reel, every word sharper and crueler in hindsight.
I keep thinking if I could just go back and stop myself or soften the blow somehow things would be different.
But that’s the problem with truth, it doesn’t care how ready you are to face it.
Dad had started in on me again, with another lecture about boundaries.
About respect and how inappropriate it was for me to get “cozy” with his friends.
His jaw had been set tight, his hands braced on the counter as he spoke, using it to anchor himself.
I’d tried to stay calm at first, to explain and reassure that nothing was going on, but he just wouldn’t stop.
Then something inside me snapped.
The words came out before I could think, bitter and raw and final.
I told him the truth: that his worst fears weren’t just paranoia, that they’d already come true long before the town’s gossip ever reached him.
That I’d slept with all three of them.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Dad’s face had gone blank at first, like the words didn’t quite compute.
His brain couldn’t process what I’d just said, refusing to take in the information he’d been so worried would come to fruition.
Then the color drained from his skin, leaving him pale and stricken, a shadow of the man I’d always seen as unshakable.
His mouth opened but no sound came out.
When his knees finally gave way, the sound of him hitting the floor was almost delicate.
He’d sat there on the cold tile, his broad frame hunched, his shoulders trembling as he tried to hold himself together.
I remember the way his hands had covered his face, the sound of his breath breaking apart into ragged sobs.
“Why?” he’d choked out, his voice barely human. “Why would you do that? Don’t you want better for yourself? My little girl…with myfriends?”
I’d wanted to reach for him, but I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t speak.
Every inch of me felt numb.
I didn’t have an answer that would make sense to him.
There was no way to explain the complicated, messy, aching thing that had grown out of a single weekend that was supposed to be no strings attached.
I had no way to make him understand that what happened hadn’t been manipulation or rebellion, it had been connection.
Love, even.
But all I could say, all that came out was, “You trust them. You call them incredible men. Doesn’t that mean I’d be safe and loved? Why wouldn’t you want that for me?”
That had broken him even more.
He’d stared at me like I was someone else, someone he didn’t even recognize.
