I wanted to say something but didn’t know what. I had practiced a lot of openings, none of which I remembered at the crucial moment and, in my hesitation, I caught the killing look my father was giving Hector.

This, of course, robbed me of speech, not that I knew what to say anyway, but still.

“You think I could spend some time with my f**king daughter without you standing there with your hands on her?” my father asked Hector.

Oh boy.

This was not a good start.

“Daddy –” I said but my voice sounded small.

My father didn’t even look at me.

Surprisingly, Hector moved.

He got in front of me, grabbed my hand, gave it a squeeze and I knew he intended to go.

I looked up at him, beginning to panic and blurted, “I don’t want you to go.”

“I’ll be right outside.”

“Hector –”

Another hand squeeze then a repeated, “Right outside,” before he touched his lips to mine and, without a glance at my father, he left.

So did the security guard.

My father and I were alone.

Blooming heck.

“You get a kick out of that, Sadie? Bringing him here and shoving him in my face?”

I stared at him.

I felt my heart start to beat faster and waited for it to happen. I waited for who Hector called Stepford Sadie to slip into place. I waited for the automatic dutiful daughter to arrive and be apologetic and hide the fact that Hector was in my life or promise to get rid of him altogether.

Instead, Stepford Sadie, now good and dead, didn’t appear.

“I’m sorry if that upset you but you already know he’s in my life,” I answered softly.

“He won’t be for long,” my father returned.

My body went stiff. “Why’s that?”

“Been lookin’ into Hector Chavez,” he replied, his tone cold. “He’s got a string of pieces, Sadie, you’re just the most recent one.”

I let out a breath and shook my head. “I know about the other women.”

“Then you aren’t as smart as I raised you to be.”

“I’m living with him.”

“Then you really aren’t as smart as I raised you to be.”

I stared at him.

He stared back.

This went on for awhile.

I was not going to give in.

I knew he wouldn’t either.

So it went on for awhile longer.

To my shock, he finished the stare down by asking, “Are we done?”

And, also to my shock, I had the perfect retort, “I don’t know, Daddy, are we?”

It was clear he didn’t expect this answer and also clear he didn’t understand it.

I decided to explain.

“You have two choices. One, you stay the way you became after Mickey Balducci murdered Mom and that means we go our separate ways. I won’t be a party to that kind of relationship with my father. Or two,” I stopped, went to the vinyl couch where my bag was, I pulled out a large photograph, a duplicate of the picture I took from Mom’s storage locker (the original now residing in some boxes in Hector’s spare room, waiting for the downstairs to be finished). I turned back to my father, walked to him, closer this time, the picture turned to face him. “We can go back to this. A family. Even without Mom with us.” I shoved the photo at him and his eyes didn’t move from it. “Take it,” I said. “I’m allowed to give it to you.”

Slowly, his eyes moved from the picture to me.

I took a stunned step back at what I saw.

Pain.

Utter, devastated, unhidden pain.

What was in his face sliced deep through me so deep I whispered an uncertain, “Daddy?”

“Where’d you find that?” he whispered back.

“One of Hector’s friends found Mom’s stuff.”

He wasn’t listening, his eyes were fastened at my neck and I watched in horror as the color drained out of his face.

All of a sudden, he tore his eyes from my throat, walked by me without looking at me to the window where he stopped.

His back to me, he stared out the glass

Then he said, “Get out.”

My body jerked as if he struck me.

“What?”

“I know what you’re doing Sadie. It’s clear you’re here with Chavez, with those things, to get a piece of me. Take it, cherish it and get the f**k out.”

I stood, stunned immobile for a second then my heart started beating, my blood started pumping and I stomped to the table in the room, put the photo on it and stomped to the window, right in front of my father.

“I will not get out,” I snapped.

His eyes didn’t move but he put his hands in his pants pockets and stared over my head.

“Look at me,” I demanded.

He didn’t look. It was like I didn’t exist.

I shoved his shoulders with both hands and yelled, “Dad! Look at me!”

Only his cold eyes tilted so he could look down his nose at me.

“I know everything. Everything,” I told him and he just kept looking down his nose at me so I repeated, “I know everything about you.”

I watched his lip curl before he said, “You don’t know shit.”

“I know you loved her,” I shot back. “I know your parents weren’t nice to you. I know she loved you too. I know that you were her world. I know you were mine too, once, before she went away. I know you fed me in the night when I was a baby –”

“Shut up, Sadie.”

“I know if I hurt myself, I went to you –”

“Sadie, shut up!”

“I know when I got up all sleepy, if you were home, I’d go directly to you –”

His hands shot out of his pockets, grabbed onto my arms and shook me hard as he shouted, “Shut up!”

“I will not shut up and I will not get out!” I screamed in his face. “Decades ago, I had a father! I want him back!”

He shoved me away, I went back two feet, righted my involuntary retreat and advanced again, grabbing onto his shirt with both fists and shaking.

“You used to kiss my head and tuck me into bed –”

His hands wrapped around my wrists and he pulled but I held on tight.

“Why’d you leave me? Once she was gone, I needed you!”

His body went still and his chin tipped down so he could look at me.

“You didn’t need me,” he said.

“I did,” I returned.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did!” I screamed.