We arrived in England in the early morning. The sun pierced through the clouds; casting a warm inviting glow on the horizon. My parents would not yet be awake so Daniel and I took advantage of that opportunity to grab some hot breakfast and some much need coffee at a nearby diner before showing up on my parent’s doorstep. All through breakfast the only thing I could think about was what I was going to say to my parents when I got there. I need to choose my words carefully; this is going to be a delicate situation to address and I don’t want to go about it the wrong way.

I haven’t spoken to my parents since my last year at University when I was 22 years old. There is going to be tension and awkwardness and I am not going there to start a fight. I am hoping for reconciliation at best but mostly I am hoping for peace; closure would also be nice and maybe the start of a new relationship between us. Four years is a long time to go without speaking to anyone, let alone the two responsible for giving you life. It was also incidentally the same time I left Daniel, our apartment, and England behind.

I started thinking about the apartment that we shared at the mention of his name. Two bedrooms, cozy, our own private balcony, the office with the matching computer desks on either side of the room where we would sit by the fire; letting our imaginations fill books with tales of love, death, mystery and wonder. I missed those days; writing side by side with Daniel. We had talked about collaborating on some things a time or two before everything fell apart. I am getting off topic, focus brain. We are here to confront my past and although Daniel is a big part of that; he is not the part I want to focus on just yet.

I tried focusing again on the conversation with my parents but instead, I found myself taking another trip down memory lane; to my childhood, where it all started. It was long ago but the pain and the memories are still clear in my mind. My father was a successful businessman with all the charm and charisma you would expect him to have from his outside appearance. He was tall and handsome with a Hollywood smile in the public eye. My mother fell head over heels for him in their senior year at high school. But he had a darkness inside of him, it lurked so deep; completely masked by his outer image, only to be released in the confines of his own home. The demon’s victim was me.

His face, as handsome as it was, would become contorted and twisted in the most unattractive ways when he was angry; and his face was not his only feature overcome by the ugliness. My father was an abusive man with a gruesome temper. He snapped so quickly; it was like flicking a switch in his brain from Dr. Jekyll to the evil Mr. Hyde.

I remember trying to be so cautious so as not to upset him; like walking on eggshells so carefully to avoid cracking them but you slip sending shards into the bottom of your feet. It did not help, no matter how much I tried to tiptoe around him I found myself skimmed walking right into his fiery pits of rage. My mother, on the other hand, could do nothing but sit idly by consoling herself with glass after glass of wine as my father struck me until I lay huddling and tear soaked in the corner. Why me? Why was I the focus of his relief? That was a question that has gone unanswered for too long and one that I intend to find out.

Daniel had been quietly eating and drinking his coffee. I was grateful that he was trying so hard to give me the space that I so desperately needed right now. I looked up at him and watched him for a moment until he looked up and his eyes met mine. I quickly looked away, embarrassed that he caught me watching him. I turned my gaze back and he smiled exposing his perfect white teeth. I grinned back at him like an idiot. We had both finished our meals and sat there in silence until he finally spoke.

"Are you ready to get going?” He asked me still smiling.

“No, I answered honestly, but this is what I came here to do. I can’t back out now so let’s get going.”

It was only 7:30 am but my parents are the type of couple who are in bed by 9 pm every night and up at 6 am. Butterflies were starting to form in the pit of my stomach the closer we got to my childhood home. We pulled on to Ackland Avenue; the street where I grew up; and the swarm in my stomach began fluttering wildly making me nauseated as we drove up the long paved driveway. Daniel and I had moved in together in my second year of University so aside from major holidays I have not spent much time here in six years.

The house hadn’t changed. My father cared about the appearance of his home as much as he did about his own exterior appearance so everything had been kept up very well. Although the garden flowers had all been wiped out by the frost the garden still looked immaculate with the perfectly trimmed hedges and an array of flower beds lining the sleek Alpine granite walkways. The dark red brick that was surrounding the outside walls were pristine; not a crack in sight or brick out of place. The front porch had been decorated with witches and ghouls awaiting the little trick-or-treaters who would litter the sidewalks in a week’s time. My mother’s workmanship I assumed. Halloween has been a favorite holiday or hers for as long as I can remember.

I was stalling; taking in every detail; trying to work up the courage to get out of the car. Daniel had parked but thought it wise not to rush me. I was staring up at the big picture window and remember sitting on that sill peering out; awaiting the arrival of our many relatives who would visit often. I was an only child so I was glad when my Aunts and Uncles would bring my cousins over for play dates while my father was away at work. I jumped when the curtains parted and my mother appeared in the window. She squinted into the sunlight but couldn’t see into Daniel’s tinted windows. I suppose now would be a good time to get out of the car since we have been discovered sitting in the driveway. I drew in a deep breath, unbuckled my seat belt and the opened the door a crack. Daniel stopped me.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go in with you? Or at least wait in the car?” He asked.

“I’m positive. I told you; this is something I need to do on my own. I will call you later tonight to let you know that I’m okay.” I assured him.

“Okay, you know I worry about you. I’ll talk to you later.” He replied.

“I’ll be fine, honest. I’ll talk to you later.” I said.

I climbed out of the car, closed the door and watched him drive away before turning back towards the house.

"Have courage, you can do this" I told myself before making my way up the steps to the front door. My mother was standing in the doorway waiting for me as I approached her.

“Deana?” She asked astonished.

“Hi mom.” I responded with a nervous smile.

“You look...tired.” She said after thoroughly looking me up and down.

“Thanks, I guess. You look great as always.” I replied.

She held her arms out to me and I hesitated for a moment before stepping in to give her a hug.

“It’s been a long time Deana. Why haven’t you called?” She asked through her tears.

“I know mom, I’m sorry. It hasn’t been easy for me, nothing ever was. I wanted to call, to make sure you were okay but I couldn’t. It’s just...I...”

“It’s your father” She finished my sentence for me.

I nodded quietly.

“Where is Dad?” I asked.

“He is out for the day. He’s playing golf with some friends from work.” She said.

I was relieved; as much as I wanted to confront my father about the past; I was happy for time alone with my mother first.

“Why don’t you come in, would you like some breakfast or coffee?” She asked.

“Coffee would be great, thank you.” I responded and followed her into the house.

A wave of familiarity and memories washed over me as I looked around; removing my jacket and shoes and putting them in the hall closet instinctively as I had done for many years. My mother disappeared into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee as I wandered through the living room. Not much had changed in eight years except for the occasional new piece of furniture. All of our family photos filled shelves and walls where they had always been. I stopped in front of one; I remembered the day it was taken like it was yesterday, but in reality, it was Christmas of 1996. I was six years old that Christmas and a ruby red bike was my prized possession under the tree wrapped up with a white satin bow. That photo of the little girl dressed in her Sunday’s best hugging her brand new bike portrayed a happiness that was not seen often on her little face.

My mom came back into the living room with two steaming cups of fresh coffee and handed one to me. I inhaled the rich aroma that reminded me of early morning talks with my mother after my father left for work. I missed our talks; thinking about them now reminded that I was once able to tell my mother everything; giving me the courage to say what was on my mind.

“Mom, I came here today for a reason. I need answers, I feel like it’s the only way I can move on with my life, to get some closure.” I started.

“You want to talk about your relationship with your father?” She asked.

“That is a big part of it, I admitted, but I also came here to confront you about the past as well. Why didn’t you ever do anything to stop it?Why didn’t you protect me from him?” I blurted out.

"Honey, I wanted to; I had nightmares about the things he used to do to you and I wanted to be to be strong and fight for you but I wasn’t. I have regretted my decisions every day since then. I am your mother, I should have protected you, I failed you and I am so sorry.” She said wiping away tears that had started to fall on her silk like skin.

“You were afraid, I get it. Dad could be terrifying and I guess I understand you not wanting to get in the path of his wrath; But I was just a child, his own little girl. I loved him and hated him all the same time and a part of me hated you for not stopping him. I know now that it was not your fault, his behavior and actions were his and his alone and I don’t blame you anymore.” I said walking over to her and catching another tear on her cheek.

“I am sorry too. I let my fear and anger take over my life and I threw everything away, including you. This is not the life I want; I want to be a normal functioning human being who contributes to society and who has friends and a loving supporting family. I want to be a family again.” I added.

“Me too sweetie, me too. Your father is different now. He knows what he did to you was wrong. He feels really bad about the way he treated you all those years; he talks about it often. I think he would love the chance to tell you how sorry he is; to tell you that he loves you. Will you stay?” She asked.

“Yes, I will stay. I came all this way, I am not going anywhere.” I replied.

I spent the whole day with my mom catching up on everything I had missed in the past four years. It was really nice being home with her; just to have someone to talk to who knows me inside and out. I must admit, I was nervous about seeing the man that haunted my dreams on a nightly basis, but my mother’s reassurance of his regret and pain made me feel a little more at ease. My mother expected his arrival at five o’clock. I couldn’t help constantly looking at the clock but surprisingly enough the time happened to go by fairly quickly. Five o’clock came and just like clock work but father’s car pulled into the driveway. He had no idea I was here and I had no idea how he would react to my presence in this home for the first time in four years. I was about to find out.

My father walked through the front door; hung up his coat and came into the kitchen to find my mother; presumably following the mouthwatering scent of his supper cooking. He paused in the doorway seeing me sitting at the kitchen table. I gave a little smile to assure him that I was not there to start to fight and he relaxed a little.

“Deana? It’s so good to see you. How have you been?” He asked still hesitating in the doorway.

“Hi Dad, it’s good to see you too. You look well. I am doing okay I guess.” I replied.

I wanted to start out slow; test the waters before diving in.

“When did you get here? Is everything okay?” He asked worried that the only reason I would possibly show up on his doorstep would be for some horrible reason. I suppose I don’t blame him for thinking that way. I haven’t made any effort to keep in contact with them at all.

“Everything is fine dad, honest. I just came to talk actually. You see, I have been having a hard time these past four years; struggling really.”

I was having a hard time trying to get the words out through the building emotions and the growing lump in my throat. He seemed to understand exactly where I was going despite that fact; just as my mother had figured me out he had too. He walked over to me and put his arms around me. At first, I flinched; I don’t know why, old habits I suppose, but I immediately corrected myself and wrapped my arms around him tightly.

“Deana, I am so sorry. You have no idea the guilt I carry around in my heart with me everywhere I go; I think of what I have done, over and over again. I hurt you and I know I can never take that back but I want you to know that if I could I would, in a heartbeat. I was a tortured man back then. I was fighting my own demons and I let them take my anger out on you as my parents had with me and there is not a day that goes by that I don’t regret it. I love you with all my heart. Can you ever forgive me, Deana?" He asked with a steady stream of tears flowing down his cheeks.

This is the first time that I have ever seen my father cry and it sent me over the edge with emotions as my own tears started to fall making it difficult to respond.

“Of course I forgive you Dad. That is all I ever wanted; to be a family again with you and mom.” I replied still wrapped up in his arms. I felt like a huge weight has been lifted. Why didn’t I do this four years ago? Or sooner? I was relieved to be done with that part of my life. I could finally move on from on this; to grow and learn from this. For the first time in a very long time, I was happy.

My parents had made plans the night before to go out to the movies this evening. They invited me to come along but I politely declined the offer. I didn’t want to impose on their evening plans so they offered for me to stay here for the night since there was a storm on the way. I agreed to stay and they left for their night on the town.

I called Daniel to tell him about my day and how liberating it was to finally be able to speak my parents like adults. He was glad to hear that I had made it through the day with no major issues. I thanked him for the drive here; which in the midst of everything going on in my mind; I had forgotten to do. I hung up the phone just as a crack of thunder sounded followed by a flash of light that lit up the night sky. I poured a glass of wine and sat on the couch trying to block out the sounds of the storm.

It was getting dark out very quickly as the black clouds threatened the skies with heavy rain. I sat alone under the glow of the flickering table lamp; glass of wine in hand; with only one thing on my mind now. I closed my eyes and his face was the center of my focus, despite the cracking thunder and heavy rain beating hard against the outside window; he was the only one I noticed.

Everything else faded away as if the deep calming blue of his eyes had consumed the storm turning the skies the same shade of brilliant blue. I could get lost in those eyes, I wanted to fall so deep into those ocean blue pools where I could never be found. I didn’t want to be found. I felt I belonged there lost in his eyes; warm in his embrace. The feeling I got when he touched me, the electricity that ran through my body with each kiss; yes I could think of nothing better than to be where I was, with him. I think I shall have to make it a reality.

Next Chapter: Chapter three: Daniel