When I got back from school that day dad was sitting at the kitchen table w/ a glass cup w/ whiskey in it.
"oh. Hey. baby," he said sleepily looking up.
"hey," I said.
"did you. replace my whiskey w/ honey and water?"
"n-no and so what if I did what are you going to do?"
"samantha will you excuse us?" I asked turning to her.
"yeah i'll. Wait outside or something," she said.
"oh. Hey samantha," dad said.
"hey mr. hunter. Scuse me."
"yep sure."
she left.
"what you're going to do is. Sit down and have a drink w/ me. I'm not punishing you," dad said.
"what?" I asked taken aback.
"you want it so badly. fine. have some. and, I know what it's like."
"dad i'm not an alcoholic."
"never said you were jennifer. But drinking. is a sign of ptsd. And I would know."
"yeah well. So would I," I said annoyed. Quietly.
"so you want some or not?"
"does mom know about this?"
"not. You and I doing this no."
"does aunt morgan? or. Even aunt topanga?"
"if you're thinking of telling them you gotta let me know first."
"ok. And I might. What. will this change?"
"if you want i'll just leave it for you to drink. I'll buy more."
"dad no you. Shouldn't be buying me bottles and in fact if you do I might refuse them."
"oh. oh...k," he said quietly then regained his composure: "now again I ask you. You want a drink or not? Simple question."
"i guess um. ok."