Chapter 6 - MY FIRST CALL TO DADI found Andrew’s number in the court filing.
I stared at it for an hour.
Then called from the park.
He answered after two rings.
“Hello?”
I said nothing.
“Hello?”
“Dad?”
Silence.
Then a sound like someone sitting down too quickly.
“Brooke?”
I almost hung up.
Instead:
“Why haven’t you called?”
He answered the question I asked.
Not the one that made him look best.
“I should have fought harder.”
I started crying.
“That’s not what Mom says.”
“I know.”
“What does she say?”
“That I walked away.”
“Did you?”
Silence.
Then:
“Some of the time.”
That stopped me.
“What does that mean?”
“It means after years of fighting over every call, every visit, every pickup, I got tired and ashamed. I told myself when you were older, I could explain. That was cowardly.”
Not the answer of a perfect father.
I appreciated that.
Then he said:
“But I never stopped wanting contact.”
“What about Ethan?”
His voice broke.
“I’ve missed almost his whole childhood.”
I told him about Gary.
Not everything.
Because I did not know everything.
“He yells at Ethan.”
“What kind of yelling?”
“Bad.”
“Does he hit him?”
“I don’t know.”
That was true then.
Dad said:
“Brooke, if you ever think Ethan is in immediate danger, call 911. Don’t get between an adult and a weapon if you can avoid it.”
May you like
Three weeks later, I got between Gary and a belt.
Teenagers are excellent at following instructions selectively.
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