My head snapped back as if he had slapped me. “No, you didn’t. You’re not a murderer.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his chin trembling.
“Sorry for what, Dad?” I was still holding on to the hope that he would tell me the words I wanted to hear.
“I did it.” He averted his gaze. “I killed that girl. I’m a murderer.”
The ringing in my ears drowned out anything else he said to me. I felt as though someone had dropped me into a deep pool of water with weights tied to my feet. My hopes, along with my sanity, sank to the bottom. I clutched my neck and gasped for air.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said from a distance. “You’ll be fine. You’re stronger than you think.”
I came to him believing that despite everything that was said in court, and the evidence presented, he was innocent. I hoped that he would appeal, and somewhere down the road, he would be rescued from the fate of dying in prison.
When I finally calmed down, I tried again. “I don’t believe you,” I said with a firmness in my voice that reflected my strong belief in his innocence.
I didn’t care what he said to me. My gut told me he was lying. I had to get the truth out of him. Maybe he thought lying to me would make it easier for me to accept his fate.
“Sweetheart, I know it’s hard for you to accept the truth, but I did it.” He didn’t even blink as he repeated his confession.
I knew when my father was lying. He had a habit of rubbing his forefinger up and down the bridge of his nose.
On my eleventh birthday, he told my mother he was taking me fishing.Instead, he took me to the fairground to experience my first roller coaster ride, something my mother insisted was too dangerous for a child.
We returned home with fish we had bought at the grocery store. What we didn’t know was that my mother had come to our favorite fishing spot at the lake. She wanted to surprise us with a picnic basket. We were not there, of course, but my father still insisted that we were.
My mother had narrowed her eyes at him. “Then why are you rubbing your nose. You only do that when you’re lying.”
He was doing the same thing now and it brought on both relief and frustration.
“Daddy, why? Why do you want to be in prison? You didn’t kill anyone.”
“I’m here because I’m supposed to be.”
“You’re supposed to be home with me and Mom.” I brought my palms together. “Please don’t do this.”
“You need to accept this, Viola. I’m so sorry.” He got to his feet then. “I love you and your mom. Never forget that.”
When I returned home, I pleaded with my mother to go speak to him, to get him to tell everyone the truth. I begged her to find a better lawyer for him, one who would appeal and win the case. She made it clear we couldn’t afford one. I begged her to ask Alex’s parents for help.
“I can’t do that. I no longer work there.”
She told me then that as soon as my father was found guilty, they let her go. They didn’t want to be associated with the wife of a murderer.
Her revelation crushed me, especially since I was dating Alex. Did that mean he would want nothing to do with me either?
“Jia Li, the court has made a decision,” she said firmly. “We have to live with it.”
“I can’t.” I lifted my chin in defiance. “I’ll never believe that my father is a murderer. And I’m hurt that you do.”
My mother said nothing more. Instead, she walked away from me and locked herself inside the master bedroom. She was struggling as much as I was. Maybe the only way she could start healing was to believe her husband was in prison for a reason.
That evening, I secretly met up with Alex and cried on his shoulders. I begged him for help. He promised he would talk to his parents. The next morning, he called to let me know that his parents did not believe that my father was innocent, that they refused to help. He also promised that he would always be there for me.
“How about you?” I’d asked. “Do you believe that my father did it?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.Youbelieve your father is innocent. That’s the most important thing.”
Chapter 38
