Maybe he won't answer. Once upon a time, my father said to me that no matter what happened, he'd always be there for me. I trusted him. It's not the divorce that changed my vision of life, but him and how he’s treated me. I needed to focus and act like I meant business. The door opened to the view of my father in jeans and a plain brown shirt. All I could say was that he's definitely not sick. “What are you doing here?” he asked, frowning. I know when someone's not delighted to see their daughter. Sorry I was born! ''We need to talk.”' I was proud of myself. My voice was steady. Now, if I could stop the shaking of my hands it would be great. “'If it's about your mother—” “I'll cut you off now because I have something to say with or without your agreement,” I insisted boldly, my eyes burning holes in his face. Taken aback, he let me come in.
