Well you guys seemed to like this, so it looks like I'll continue :) Not sure how many chapters it'll go or how often I'll update. I'm on break from school right now, which leaves me more time to write and blog and all that fun stuff. When school starts, priorities have to change, you know?

Rule 12: Never Date a Coworker

Of all the rules, this is the one I'd have expected my parents to break. But they never ever did.

I understand that this rule was on put in place probably because of Director Shepard, a woman whom my dad refers to as 'Queen'. I never got to meet her, but I sure wish I had.

But rule 12 has been on my mind.
I'm at dad's place. I walk in to the living room on that Saturday morning, and he's sitting on the couch reading the paper.

"Mornin' Eds. What time do you have ballet?" he asks.

"Not until noon. But I need to practice for my piano lesson tomorrow. You mind?"

"Not at all, go ahead."

I walked over to his piano. Seriously, beautiful instrument.
I'm in love with his piano. Every time I practice on it, I ask first. I know I don't have to, but I feel like I need to have permission. We used to argue about that. I always felt like I needed to ask dad for basic things. I'm his daughter, he'd say. But you didn't know I existed, I'd say. I've just always felt in the way, even though he's gone out of his way to show me I'm not.

I cleared my head, popped my knuckles, and prepped to play.
"Wait, is that from The Little Prince?" Dad asked. I nodded. Dad came over and sat by my on the bench. He added some of the chords I hadn't learned yet, and it was absolutely beautiful.

He kissed my forehead. "You never cease to amaze me."

"It's kind of in my genetics," I replied.

"DiNozzo women are pretty great," Dad smiled. I knew he was referring to Grandma. Which was
really sweet.
"You do realize my mother does get some of the credit here?"

He glared. I didn't win with that statement.

"Your mother and I are..."

"I know Dad. I just think its dumb."

"What do you mean?"

"I think its dumb. It's been ten years, and before me you two
obviously had something, or I wouldn't have been born."

"Its really not that simple."

"Dad, it's been ten years."

"And it should have been sixteen," he said harshly. "I should have been there when you were born. I should have held you as a baby, and been a part of your life."

"I knew who you were. I knew you were my father. You were a part
of my life."
"But you weren't a part of mine." he said, shaking his head. "And I don't think I can forgive her for that."

"But you loved her."

Dad's eyes were sad. "I might have loved her."

Of course he did. That was the first time he'd actually said it. But I knew, based on the stories, based on the pictures I grew up with. I knew because when I'd
curse in Hebrew he knew what I was saying. I knew because they won't talk about Berlin anymore, or about Paris. I knew because I'm here. Which is kind of obvious, but not to be overlooked.

"Why don't you get ready for ballet?"

"Yeah, okay." I agreed.

I packed up my stuff, got my tights on, all of that fancy stuff. We got all loaded in his car.
When we got to my studio, I said, "See you in a few days?" Dad nodded and gave me a hug.

"Call me," he said. I nodded in agreement.

I don't love ballet. I mean, its okay. I'm good at it. I don't like, dislike it or anything. Mom wished she'd been a ballerina. I'm kind of living out her dream life for her at this point. If she knew this was my attitude toward it, she'd pull me out. So I keep my opinions pretty quiet.
She picked me up after class. She's a sad woman. She scares me from time to time.

"Your father called."

My head spun around really quickly. "Huh?"

See, they don't talk. Like ever. Its a mutual agreement between them; half a week with her, half with him. I know my schedule and they text one another if there's something that comes up. I'm his for Christmas, which isn't that big of a deal considering I'm Jewish. They tolerate sitting together twice a year- piano and ballet recitals. That's it. And its only because they like me.

"It only rang once. He didn't leave a message. Did he need something?"

Oh, yeah. Mom mom mom. It kills her to do this. I know it does. It's killing them both, but I seriously think it's all harder on her.
"Um. Not that I know of." Her face fell. I felt so bad.

But what if he was calling her because of our conversation? What if it was just an accident? But I can't tell mom that she needs to call him back because it's just not the right thing to do. At least I don't think it is. Whatever. What do I know?

Absolutely nothing. I know nothing. They're not coworkers. All bets are off. They're just coparents and cocreators of me.
Somehow I don't think that's how this works.