Chapter 2

2

Standing in front of my family's split-level house were a man and a woman. I have no idea how they even got there.

The middle-aged man was wearing this simple outfit, and a beanie, staring at the house with an impatient expression.

"Didn't I call? Why isn't anyone home yet? Ridiculous!"

He'd aged, his once-handsome face now looked pale and saggy. But he still had that same arrogant attitude, like everyone should be kissing his feet.

Looking at him, I felt a weird mix of disgust and… pity?

Back in the day, he thought so highly of himself because he was some English major, always looking down on my mom, calling her a "simple housewife."

He openly carried around pictures of his old girlfriend, writing poems and doodling about her.

When he heard she'd died, he sat on the back deck, smoking all night long.

I was just a kid then, but I remember him clutching her picture, crying, saying something like, "Eleanor, I'm coming to join you!"

The next day, he sold the house, donated all his money, and became a monk.

The media celebrated their "epic love story" while Mom and I were kicked out, living on the streets. Nobody gave a damn about how we were going to survive.

And now he has the nerve to come back?

"Mallory! You're home!"

Carol spotted me and waved enthusiastically. "Come on over! Oh, this kid, why won't she come over here? Seeing her dad must have knocked her dumb with joy!"

Dad followed Carol's gaze, paused, and scowled. "Took you long enough. You know how long I've been waiting?"

I ignored him, asking coldly, "What are you doing here?"

Dad, already annoyed that I wasn't acting thrilled, got even angrier. "What do you mean, 'what are we doing here?' After all these years, you've forgotten how to address your elders? Zero respect! What did Donna ever teach you?"

Hearing him insult my mom made my blood boil. He still thought he was the king of the castle? Screw that!

"Who are you calling a bad mother?"

"Your mother, what… you little brat, how dare you talk to your father like that!"

He caught himself, looking shocked and furious. He reached out to slap me, but Carol jumped in.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on a second! This father and daughter are only just seeing each other, so there's no need to quarrel!"

Carol pinned Dad's arms down, gave him a meaningful look, and turned to me with a placating smile.

"Mallory, don't be like this. Aunt Carol knows that you've missed your dad so much over the years, so you feel upset. Actually your dad has missed you too, and he came back to fix the issues from the past…"

"Fix?"

I snapped. "When he donated all our money and left us homeless, did he think about what Mom would do, what would happen to me and my brother? Now he wants to 'fix' things? I don't need anything from him."

Dad stared at me in disbelief.

"What do you mean, my donating the money made you homeless? All the property and the money were the results of my work. Do I not have the right to handle my own money?"

"Besides, I was hit hard back then. As my daughter, why can't you be empathetic? Does money matter to you more than relationships?"

I'd thought he'd feel at least a little guilty about what he'd done, but he was acting like he was completely justified.

I almost laughed, but I couldn't waste my breath arguing with him.

"I'm not going to debate with you. Please leave. You're not welcome here."

Carol, seeing things were going downhill fast, tried to smooth things over. "Mallory, that's not what your father meant. Why don't we go inside? You both need to calm down. Arguing in the yard is just embarrassing!"

"I'm not letting you in today, so get lost! Don't make me call the cops."

"How dare you speak to me like that? I'm your father!" Dad raised his hand again, but Carol held him back, frantically winking at him.

He calmed down, lowered his hand, and smirked. "Fine, fine. A few years apart, and you've turned into a heartless brat. I won't talk to you. I'll wait until your mother gets home. Let's see if she dares to keep me outside."

I clenched my fists.

He had a point.

Mom used to be so crazy about him that she chased him for years before he reluctantly agreed to marry her.

Throughout their marriage, Mom was always meek, catering to his every whim. He messed around with other women, and Mom always forgave him, never willing to blame him.

If she saw him, she'd probably forgive him again.

I couldn't let that happen.

"I said you're not welcome here! Get the hell off my property! Security! Security! We've got trespassers! Get them out of here!"

I screamed, grabbing a broom and swinging it wildly, trying to chase them away like stray dogs.

If they wouldn't leave, I'd force them out!

Dad got whacked in the face with the broom, sputtering and cursing as he backed away. "Mallory, you're crazy! How dare you treat your own father like this! You'll be sorry!"

"Don't call me by your first name! My last name isn't even the same as yours!"

I dipped the broom in dog crap and tried to poke it on their faces and yelled, "Get out! Get out! Get out!"

The battle was raging when I suddenly heard Mom's voice. "Mallory?"

I froze.

At the end of the driveway, Mom was standing there with grocery bags in her arms, staring at us in shock.

How could she be home so early?