I think we all know the reason why no one wants you.
“Wonderful.” If she could, if her hands weren’t clad in puke-drenched gloves, she’d rub her temples in frustration.
It’s because you’re just like him.
“Okay. Sure.”
He was a coward. He was afraid of everything.
“And that’s me, too, right? That’s where we’re going with this?”
He had his booze and his isolation. You have your jokes and all your excuses. What a cliché. Put on your Daddy Shoes and dance the night away.
But why didn’t he want me?
It hits her like a fist to the throat. A simple question. Almost rhetorical, really. Certainly not a new idea or concept to her. Yet, for a moment, she can’t even breathe it’s so overwhelming. Tears sting the backs of her eyes, and she has to mentally shove them back into her skull.
Why didn’t he want me? Why didn’t he stick around? Why didn’t he ever even call? Why was he so okay with cutting me out completely? What is it about me that not even my own father could love? It has to be my fault somehow, doesn’t it?