Amelia
I meet my father downstairs as he had requested. He is sitting on the couch with his head in his hand as if something is really bothering him. I'm reluctant to join him, but he hears my footsteps and looks up, making it impossible for me to run and hide.
"Amelia," he acknowledges me.
"Dad, what's up?" I try to act nonchalant, but my heart is racing. I take a seat on the couch opposite him.
"I just want to tell you how sorry I am," he says, and just like that, I turn into a puddle.
"It's fine, Dad," I say.
"It's not. I shouldn't have come at you like that. For the longest time, the jeep was just parked. I thought you didn't want it, so I gave it to someone who did. I'm sorry I never talked to you before I did, and you have every right to be angry with me. I'm sorry, baby girl,
