Usual disclaimer applies.
March, 2012
~56~
The relief is instantaneous.
All-consuming.
Wonderful.
Like finding out the priceless jewelry you thought you had lost had been tucked away in your bureau all along.
But it doesn't stop me from crying again.
My only thought is of Dad. Of how I am so lucky to have him as my caregiver, my best friend, my father. It almost makes up for having such a shit mother.
And that's one of the unpleasant aspects about growing up. You no longer see your parents as all-knowing and perfect, as wonderful people who are there to help you, to care for you.
You begin to see their flaws.
From the time I turned thirteen, back when Dad first taught me to shoot a gun or jimmy a car window, I began to question Mom. I began to wonder.
Why did I always have to make lunch when it was just the two of us?
Why did the laundry only get done if Dad or I did it ourselves?
Why did she complain so much about money being tight, about buying me a new pair of jeans when I tore the knee out of my old pair, when she threw money away on pottery classes or manicures?
It was disappointing to slowly lose the hero-complex I had for her growing up, for the fog around her to dissipate enough for me to see all of her, shortcomings too. But I guess it helped soften the blow when she left last year. Or when I found out about her and Carlisle only a few short weeks ago.
And luckily, having such an awesome dad makes up for it.
Oh, Daddy.
He continues to hold me as I silently cry, and I'm pretty sure he is crying too judging by the dampness I can feel on the top of my head.
And I don't mind.
But I begin to wonder. What pushed Dad to look through Mom's things? What drove him to find out about the affair? About my questionable paternity? And most intriguing, what evidence did he manage to uncover that solidified his theories?
Because I for one could not find much.
The room is so quiet that although I speak in barely a whisper, my words muffled from Dad's shirt, I know he will still hear me.
"How did you find out?"
It takes a long time for him to answer. And I know he isn't wondering what I am referring to. I know he understands perfectly what I am asking. Dad is just being his usual, considerate self, trying to determine how best to speak about something that he knows is hurting me.
He takes a deep breath, letting it out through his mouth.
It's a sigh of defeat.
And I wonder if he came to the conclusion that no matter how nicely he says it, no matter what fancy language he uses, his admission is still going to hurt.
With one more deep breathe, he finally admits, "I started divorce proceedings, Bella."
.
A/N: I've always had a problem with the canon Renee and her inability to take care of Bella. Yeah, it's downplayed in the books, almost portrayed as laughable that Bella had to take care of her mother, but I really don't think that's fair for any young girl to deal with. Anyone agree?