Page 119 of My Only

My father didn’t look at me.

Just circled the table.

Like a shark.

“When I talk?”

He finally stopped.

Lifted his gaze.

“I mean every word I say. Because I say that shit with conviction, you listening?”

My throat felt tight.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

“So when I said, on your wedding day, that Ayla was officially my daughter on paper?”

He tilted his head.

“But she had always been my daughter before then?”

His gaze pinned me in place.

“I wasn’t talking for show.”

He lifted his cue stick and pointed it directly at me.

“Yuh hearing me?”

I swallowed. Hard.

“Because she became my daughter when her father didn’t come home on September 11, 2001. You gettin’ it?”

The room felt thicker.

My lungs felt tighter.

I could hear my father’s inhales and exhales now.

And I knew…

So could he.

He didn’t move for a long moment.

Then…

His shoulders lifted.

A sharp exhale.

“So.”

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