22 - Do You Think He Can Forgive Me?  

Doc leans back in his chair. "So, let me get this straight. You were talking about Marcus Forrester, Deputy State's Attorney of Cook County and lead prosecutor in your case."

"That's the one," I confirm. "He was at the shelter that night to pick up his family. They were terrified of him."

Doc rubs his chin, deep in thought.

"Do you know him?" I ask.

"Yeah. I actually was appointed in his custody case."

"And?"

He gives me the evil eye. "You know I can't talk with you about another case."

I pout. "Come on, doc. What did he do?"

He shakes his head. "Sorry, not going there. But just out of curiosity, what was your impression of him?"

I frown. Why should I be sharing if he doesn't want to play ball? "What do you think of him, doc?" I counter.

His eyes wander in the distance. "When I was a little boy, there was this bully. His eyes still haunt me in my dreams and Marcus Forrester somehow reminds me of him."

I am proud to get such a personal confession out of him. "Well, he struck me as someone with a mean streak." I think back of the night at the shelter. "But he certainly had a lot of charisma."

"That he has. I have rarely met a lawyer that handles juries the way he does. Generally, people eat out of his hand."

This could be a real problem for me. "I don't know if I like the sound of this. Is he really that good?"

"He isn't someone you should underestimate which makes this exercise even more important." He grins and I am not sure if he isn't using Marcus to get to me. "So let's take a couple of steps back. When you were talking to Tisha Jones, why were you so insistent not to contact your dad?"

"Don't know, no special reason."

He gives me that 'I'm not buying it' look.

I raise my hands. "OK, ok. I was scared. I knew I disappointed him terribly."

"Were you mad at him?"

I stare at the mirror behind which the guards are observing me like an exotic animal in a cage. Sometimes, they allow my dad to join them – common courtesy among law enforcement officials. He could be watching me right now and I don't want to upset him even more.

"I honestly don't know how to answer that."

He follows my gaze. "He isn't there so you can be truthful."

Damn, why can he read me so well? "How do you know?"

"I ran into him earlier and he was just leaving to go to work. They called him when you freaked out this morning and he rushed over to make sure you were OK."

Sudden tears rise and it takes me a lot of effort to swallow them back down. "Why didn't he come to see me?"

"Same reason you just gave me a minute ago. He is scared. As a matter of fact, he is terrified. Do you think all this has been easy on your father?"

Of course not. My dad is about to lose me all over again and it is really unfair considering he already lost my mom. "I guess I have not been the best of daughters. I couldn't blame him if he hated me."

"Is that what you think?"

I silently nod, the tears now flowing like a waterfall.

"Hey." He twists his lips in some form of encouragement. "For all that it's worth, I don't think your father hates you."

"How do you know?" I snivel. "He told me he doesn't approve that I killed Brent. He called it a despicable act of  self-justice."

"There is a difference between hating a person and disapproving of an act. Your father is a cop. You can't seriously expect him to agree with self-justice. It's against everything he stands for but that doesn't mean he stopped loving you."

I am still not convinced. "You don't know him. I could see in his eyes that he can't comprehend what I did."

"That might be so. But do you truthfully think he would stick around, visit you, attend all your hearings and be there for you as much as he has if he didn't love you?"

"He might just feel obliged." This has been my fear all along.

"Why would he feel obliged?"

I click my tongue. This is getting way too heavy for me. "It doesn't matter. We are getting off track."

He smiles mildly. "I think we are doing just fine."

Of course he would say that. He is getting under my skin again, tearing at half healed wounds. I hate when he does that.

I drum my fingers on the table. "I think it's time for a break."

He checks his watch. "It's not even ten o'clock. You are just hoping to distract me and get out of answering those questions."

I clutch my hands to my heart, pretending to be wounded. "Would I ever do that?"

"Don't act so innocently. We both know that you don't like to talk about your feelings."

I am up for the challenge. "I really have to use the bathroom."

For a moment, he actually hesitates. "I can offer you a bedpan."

I shoot him a wicked glare. "Seriously?"

He chuckles "I have to finish with the interview today or I will get into trouble with the judge. I can't do that if we take a potty break every five minutes."

I roll my eyes. "OK, I don't actually have to go."

"Great. Where were we?"

I am not going to help him out. "No clue."

His face lightens up. "Oh yes, you were about to tell me why your dad would feel obliged being a part of your life," he says smugly.

He is plain evil and knows it. "Can I pass?"

A stern look. "This is not a game show where you can go with option B."

"How about calling a friend like they do on Jeopardy?"

He studies me before letting out a deep sigh. "OK, let's play this game. Who would you call?"

He got me, I don't have any friends. I bury my face into my hands and remain silent.

"Rena, why would you father feel obliged?" His voice is soft and so irritating that I finally have enough.

"Because I blamed him for what I did. I told him if he had been there for me, if he had just fought in court when I petitioned for emancipation, hell, if he had forbidden for me to go out with Brent in the first place, none of this would have happened. I mean, what kind of father does that? Who would just let his daughter walk out of his apartment into certain doom?"

"You told him all that?"

I was a stupid thing to do. "Yes, and he was devastated. I could see how it broke him apart. And now he only sticks around because he doesn't want to be blamed again."

"Do you think that was fair?"

Hell no – but it was certainly easier than blaming myself. "Life isn't fair. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here."

For a moment, he is stunned by my stubbornness. We just stare at each other, both not wanting to admit that we could really use a break after all.

He manages to regain his composure first. "Did your father ever tell you why he didn't fight for you in court?"

I nod. "He had some lame excuse. Apparently, social services almost took me away after my mother's death because of his drinking – that's why he stopped. He was terrified if I brought up all those allegations, I would end up in the foster care system and he felt that was worse than being with Brent. He claimed he had no idea about the abuse."

"But that's not good enough for you?"

"I don't know." I'm surprised at the shrillness in my voice.

"Hey, calm down or they will put you into a straightjacket."

I narrow my eyes. "Can they actually do that?"

"If they fear you may attack me."

I am trying to control the turmoil inside me. "Tell me, doc, what would you do?"

"About your father?"

I nod.

"Well, I think you will have to learn to accept the choices you both made. That's what people do who love each other. They might never agree, never understand, but that doesn't mean they should turn their back on each other. Acceptance doesn't equal approval."

He is such a smart ass but he may have gotten it right this time around.

"I don't know how to take the first step," I admit

"Maybe you should tell him that you love him the next time you see him."

I can't hold his gaze. "Do you think that will be enough?" I whisper.

"Telling someone that and really mean it goes a long way."

"Do you think he will forgive me?"

He smiles. "I think he already has. He just hasn't figured out how to tell you."

That's a comforting thought.

"How about you, Rena?" His tone is all of a sudden really serious. "Have you forgiven yourself?"

That's cruel. Deep down, I know that I will never forgive myself – after all, I took a human life. I don't deserve forgiveness.

"That's none of your business," I snap. "We went way off track. This has nothing to do with Brent."

He doesn't even seem surprised by my outburst. "Fair enough. We will get to that later."

I glare at him. There won't be any later if he doesn't zip it. I won't talk about my guilt and if he wasn't careful, I wouldn't care about the straightjacket.

"So, let's get back to the night at the shelter," he suggests. "You said you were determined to stay away from Brent. You even swore not to let him steal another day from you. What happened that made you change your mind?"

I rub the bridge of my nose, I was starting to get a headache. He notices my discomfort and pushes a bottle of water in my direction. I twist the top off and take a few swallows. That actually makes me feel better.

I belch and he cringes in disgust. "Excuse me," I grin, enjoying his irritation.

"You are on thin ice this morning," he scolds. "You are getting way too comfortable around me."

"Well, regard it from a positive angle. A belch shows that I'm starting to be myself which is a form of trust which in turn will eventually allow me to answer all those obnoxious questions of yours."

He lets the air escape through his lips with a loud hiss. I love it when I get to him.

"For now, I would already settle for the question I just asked you," he sighs.

"Ok, let me think." I play with my cuticles which annoys him even more. "Oh now I remember. Thanksgiving happened."

"Thanksgiving?"

"Yes. That holiday with the turkey and the stuffing."

He gazes at me vacantly, waiting for me to continue but I don't do him the favor.

"What happened on Thanksgiving?" he finally asks.

I smile complacently. "Before I can tell you about that, I have to fill you in on the rest."

He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Get on with it, will you?"

I cup my hands behind my head, totally relaxed now. "Ok, where do I start?"

Based on feedback received in some of the earlier chapters, readers were really questioning dad's behavior during the emancipation proceedings and I hope this chapter sheds some light on his reasons.

Please leave comments (they do help and this chapter would probably not have been written otherwise) and if you liked this chapter, don't forget the voting button. Thanks for reading and your support :)