Page 170 of Satan's Spawn
“You wantto tell me what the hell that was in there?” My father’s irritatingly caring voice breezes in from beside me. “You got a thing going on with this Rebecca girl?”
“What the fuck do you think?” I shoot him a dubious look when he settles beside me.
“I think you finally met your match.”
Don’t fucking remind me.
“Do you need something?”
He brings the glass of Brandy he’s holding to his lips. “Nope. I just know how hard it is to be involved with a dangerous woman.”
Is this guy serious? I’ve seen kittens who were more threatening than this girl.
“Are you blind? Have you seen Rebecca?”
“I did.All of herin fact.”
The innuendo here does not go unnoticed. My dad is fully cognizant of my aversions to blondes.
I ignore the shit-eating grin staring me in the face.
“Then you know she wouldn’t bat a fly.”
“There are many ways for a woman to be dangerous. It doesn’t always involve a loud mouth like Alexis, or a sneaky one like…” His voice trails off, but we both know who he’s referring to. His cuntified ex. My father clears his throat. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is…sometimes the most dangerous thing about a woman is what they’re capable of making us feel. Judging by what I saw earlier between you two, she’s got you feeling something.”
I don’t know what to say to that, because any response I give him will be proving his point. If I get pissed, I’m guilty. If I act dismissive, I’m in denial.
I choose silence, my old friend.
Darkness’ cousin.
“I think it’s good that you’re finally engaging with women who look like her.”
My eyes are like fire as they shoot to his apologetic ones.
“I meant a blonde.” My father holds up his hands, as if de-escalating an argument with a wild animal. “I made you a promise never to speak of that woman again, and I don’t intend on breaking it. Even if the resemblance is uncanny.”
My anger subsides just enough to take another pull, and my father another sip.
“She’s a nice girl,” I admit, looking down at the ground by my boots.
“I can see that…” he says through a refreshed sigh.
“It’s why I can’t—”
“It’s why you should!” Dad throws his head back and laughs. “Danger isn’t always a bad thing if it comes from a trustworthy person. And by the way that little thing was looking at you on the dance floor, it’s pretty obvious she’s only got eyes for you.”
“I’m bad for her.”
For anyone.
“Or she can be good for you.”
“You recently got dumped, shouldn’t you be spewing all anti-romance propaganda?”
My father huffs lightly. “Maybe. But that’s not your burden to bear. Just because I went through a bad experience with an untrustworthy woman, doesn’t make it a rule forallwomen. If I’m meant to find my person, then she’s out there somewhere, waiting for me too.”
I should be projectile vomiting with this sappy bullshit, but there’s something about the spark in my Dad’s eyes that tells me I should allow him this small moment of clarity.
