There’s a brief silence. Our gazes lock. Suddenly I feel so very tired. I already dealt with one emotional confrontation today, and it’s only one p.m. I wonder how many more devastating exchanges are in store for me.
“Can we go sit in the living room?” I suggest.
He nods.
When we’re seated on opposite ends of the couch, I inhale slowly, then release my breath in a long, measured puff. “I know you appreciate it when people get right down to the point, so that’s what I’m going to do.” I clasp both hands in my lap. “I’m sorry.”
Dad gives a slight smile. “You’ll have to be more specific. There are a few things you could be apologizing for.”
I don’t smile back, because I resent the jab. “No, actually, there aren’t. I’m not going to apologize for dating Jake, or having friends, or partying every now and then. I’m not going to apologize for any of that, because I’ve been doing it all responsibly.” I exhale in a rush. “I’m apologizing for getting pregnant.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath. “What?”
It’s rare to catch my father off-guard, but he looks beyond stunned. I play with the beads on my wrist and—Crap, Jake’s bracelet. I’m still wearing it. That means I’ll need to find a way to get it back to him before his game on Saturday.
Right now, however, it’s fueling me in a strange sort of way. I don’t know if it’s bringing me luck exactly, but it’s definitely giving me courage, which I usually lack around my dad.
“I’m sorry I got pregnant,” I repeat. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. For what it’s worth, it really was an accident. Eric and I were always careful, always.” I shake my head bitterly. “And then one fluke time a stupid condom breaks, and now my father hates me.”
His eyes widen. He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.
“I know I disappointed you, and I also know that I—what’s that phrase they use in old-timey movies? I brought shame upon our house?”
Dad barks out a laugh. “Jesus, Brenna—”
I interrupt again. “I know you’re ashamed of me. Trust me, I’m ashamed of myself for the way I behaved. I should’ve told you I was pregnant and I absolutely should’ve told you I was bleeding that day. Instead, I was so scared of how you would react and I let Eric convince me that it wasn’t a big deal. I was a stupid kid, but I’m not stupid anymore. I promise.”
My throat closes up, which is probably a good thing because a sob was about to fly out. I blink repeatedly, desperately trying to keep the tears at bay. I know that when they finally come, it’s going to be epic waterworks.
“I’m asking you to give me another chance,” I tell him.
“Brenna—”
“Please,” I beg. “I know I’m always disappointing you, but I want to try to fix that. So please just tell me how”—to make you love me again—“to fix this. I can’t live with you being ashamed of me anymore, so I need you to tell me how I can make it better and how to—”
My father starts to cry.
Shock slams into me. My mouth is still open, but I’m no longer talking. For a moment I think I’m imagining his tears. I’ve never seen my father cry, so this is a completely foreign sight to me. But…those are tears, all right.
“Dad?” I say uncertainly.
He drags his knuckles over his face to try to scrub the moisture away. “Is that what you think?” Shame glimmers through his tears, only it’s not directed at me. I think he’s ashamed of himself. “Is that really what I’ve led you to believe? That I hate you? I’m ashamed of you?”
I bite hard on my bottom lip. If he keeps crying, I’ll cry too, and one of us needs to maintain a level head right now. “You’re not?”
“Christ, of course not.” His voice is beyond hoarse. “And I never once blamed you for getting pregnant, Peaches.”
There is absolutely no stopping the tears this time. They flood out and spill down my cheeks, the salty flavor touching my lips.
“I was young once,” Dad mutters. “I know the stupid things we do when hormones are involved and I know that accidents happen. I wasn’t thrilled it happened, but I didn’t blame you for it.” He rubs his eyes again.
“You wouldn’t even look at me afterward.”
“Because every time I looked at you I remembered finding you on the bathroom floor in a puddle of blood.” His breathing goes shallow. “Jesus, I’ve never seen so much blood in my life. And you were white as a ghost. Your lips were blue. I thought you were dead. I walked in and actually thought you were dead.” He drops his face in his hands, his broad shoulders trembling.