The night they found Tom Robinson guilty would always stay with me. I was thirteen years old and at that stage of my life, all I wanted to do was play football. I was in love with the idea of being a star player and secretly in love with the idea of being in love with the cute head cheerleader. The biggest pains in my life concerned school and my sister. This night would change how I looked at the world from that point on. There was a lot bigger, tumultous problems than not making the team, getting a D in math, and having your little sister still wanting to be attached at the hip.

The moment I came home from the courthouse, I walked solemnly into my bedroom and shut the door. I was going to stay there, in my bed, covers up to my head even though it was still ninety degrees outside, and I was going to cry my heart out. I figured I could get away with it; Atticus has always respected my privacy around bedtime. I've had no problem going right to sleep on my own for years now. Atticus still walked into Scout's bedroom to read to her and to hug and kiss her goodnight. I was not jealous in the least. That was just Scout's thing and my alone time at night was my thing.

Well, that night wasn't like that. I had heard Atticus go into Scout's room and they did their bedtime routine. I could hear them through my gentle sobbing. He never discussed Tom with her that night. As a matter of fact, they carried on as if it were any other night. Scout, a little girl, was okay but I wasn't. That just made me feel worse and the tears kept on coming. A big man I sure felt like. It was all over before I knew it and I had to stop my crying real quick because Atticus always did come in to say goodnight. When he entered my room, he actually walked right over to me, which was unusual. He then bent over and gave my tear-stained cheek a kiss. I was shocked because I didn't recall how long ago it was since he had done that.

"Why'd you do that?" I asked, my voice still shaky.

"Kiss you?"

"Yeah, Atticus," I was sitting up and looking at him now. "You haven't kissed me in years."

"I love you, Jem."

"I know, Atticus, you don't have to kiss me to let me know that."

"Well, I just worry about my boy, sometimes."

"I'm okay, Atticus."

"Okay," he then says patting my knee. I couldn't help but cry again but that was when Atticus got up and began to leave. Not that he was neglecting me, but he was giving me room. Like I said, he was good at knowing when I need breathing space.

"Hey, Atticus," I call through my tears.

"Yes," he answered, looking back at me.

"I love you, too."

"I know, Jem. I love you. Go to bed now, you're okay."

I did stop my crying and did eventually fall asleep. I believed if Atticus thought I was okay, then I had to be. It was not only the night that I learned the world was far from good sometimes, it was the night I learned how much my father loved me all the time.