A Father’s Resolve
By the time I finished speaking with my father, my ice had nearly overtaken my blood, extending to the phone’s receiver and sprinkling its lengthy cord. My father had reacted with appropriate ire, but I had hardly told him any of the details about what had happened. Instead, I had spent the majority of our conversation trying desperately to dissuade him from what he was about to do. And I had failed.
I sank down to the floor with the receiver in my right hand, my expectations caught in a wild tornado. Beth reentered the room just as I leaned my back against the door to the hall. Her tired eyes widened when she saw me sitting listless on the floor with the phone frozen to my hand. “Swanie? Did your Pappi freak out?” She crossed the floor and took my right hand in hers,
