Page 95 of Every Sweet Thing Is Bitter

“I only want her.”

“It’s not a custody arrangement,” he says, setting down his beer. “She’s my daughter. End of discussion.”

“She’s my sister.”

“What happens if she goes back home with you? She sleeps on the couch in your shitty apartment while you’re drawing on people to pay the rent? Oh, what a dream life you’re offering her, Providence.”

“Aren’t you tired of raising your daughters?”

“I’ve been tired fifty-seven years, daughters or no daughters.”

“Don’t pretend like your children are the great joy of your life.” I soften my words with a chuckle forced from the bottom of my throat. It sickens me to show him even an imitation of joy. “You’re an old man now. You want to drink your beers, watch the Rockies lose, sometimes go play pool in Tyre. If Grace comes with me, you can have the life you always wanted.This whole thing’ll be done. That’s the best thing that could happen for any of us.”

“Family isn’t a rotten tooth. You don’t just yank it out when it starts to hurt.”

I train my eyes on his holster. “Normal families, sure, but when was this family ever normal?”

“You had a roof over your head and food on the table. You had nothing to complain about.”

“Do you really believe that? Can you look me in the eye and tell me you honestly don’t think you did anything wrong?”

He can. “I never did nothing to you that my old man didn’t do to me or my sister, God rest her soul. It didn’t break us: it made us tough as nails. I wanted you girls to be tough. None of that crying over a scraped knee bullshit. No back talk, no sass. It never did me any harm, and you don’t look any worse for wear. I made you strong. That I won’t ever apologize for.”

“You made me scared.”

“Fear is a choice,” he says. “Look at Harmony. You think she was ever scared?”

“You were always too drunk to hear us cry.”

“You only think that because you were the weak one. I never saw you be strong, Providence, not once. Look at what you’ve done to your arms. It’s a weakness.”

“I keep myself alive. I’m a survivor.”

My father waves his hand like he’s batting away an insect. “Don’t get philosophical on me.”

“Please, I am begging you. Let me take Grace.”

“No.”

“One word?” I lift my hands. “That’s all I get?”

“The answer is no.”

“She’s going to go to college soon anyway.”

He shakes his head. “She’s not. She’ll go when I think she’s ready for it.”

“You can’t be happy unless you’re making someone else suffer, can you?”

“Providence, I am giving you one last chance to turn tail and get out of my store. You said your piece and I heard you out. It’s time for you to go.”

I step closer to him. “Give Grace a chance at a normal life. Give her one reason not to wish you dead. One thing to be grateful to you for.”

“Are you finished?”

“No.”

“Walk away.”