✄- - - - - henlo! it’s ivy! welcome to the fourth part of my original story, brightside! i hope you like it! “Don’t sugarcoat it.” I said calmly, examining my bitten-down nails and then looking him straight in the eye unwaveringly. He hesitated. “I’ll wait, Daniel.” I stated sharply. “If you won’t explain yourself, I’ll leave.” “You’ve said that already. Twice. I’m still the adult here, Nina.” He said, taking the edge off of my confidence and wilting me a little. I said nothing and dropped my eyes to my shoes. He sighed and put his face in his hands, rubbing it and looking back up at me, but avoiding my eyes. “Almost sixteen years ago,” he began, “I met your mother at a writers’ workshop taught by the author Frank Ellis Myers in Oklahoma, where I lived for a few years in my twenties. It was love at- well, uh,” he looked down at his hands sadly. “At the time.” “At what time?” I asked. “You know, at the time. We were... very much in love. I don’t know if...” It occured to me that my dad still loved and missed my mom. DANIEL still loved and missed my mom, I correct myself. He didn’t get to be my dad. Yet. “Go on,” I said gently. “Anyways. A few years after we met, we got married, and we found out that she was pregnant. I was... really happy.” He gived a sad smile, and his eyes filled with tears. The happy-nostalgiac kind, not the sad kind. I felt my heart soften towards him, just a little. He stared off into the distance for a minute, then coughed, blinked, and continued. “You were born just eight months later, Nina, and I was the happiest man alive. For five wonderful months, you were my baby. You were our baby. And then...” “And then?” I pressed. “Well, the day before Christmas, I told your mom I was going for a few extra classes with Mr. Myers, because he was doing another workshop. What I was really doing was shopping for a new crib for you at the farmers’ market - you were growing like a tomato plant, and you needed a new one - and a last minute gift for your mom, since we lived in a small house and I couldn’t have bought one earlier because there was nowhere to hide it. While I was doing that, someone murdered Mr. Myers. And the police thought it was me.” “But didn’t Mom defend you? There wasn’t any evidence, was there?” His eyes filled with tears again, this time tears of anger and regret. “No,” He whispered. “No she didn’t defend you, or no there wasn’t any evidence?” “No to both of them. She - she thought I was there, and it was too late to convince her otherwise, because it would sound sketchy. Look at me, Nina.” I looked at him. “We live in a world where people still think that people like us - black people - are somehow criminals. And I- there’s no easy way to put this. I was the only black person in the workshop.” I took a second to process this, then sprang up from the chair. “But it’s the twenty-first century! Don’t they, I- couldn’t they-“ I was unable to finish my sentence, I was so angry. “Calm down, Nini. It’s terrible, but c’est la vie.” “But we have to do something, dad! I mean, Daniel! Can’t we get them to clear your name? At least convince my mom-” He shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, Nina. There’s nothing we can do. I have a criminal record now, but I’m out of jail, that’s what matters. And your mom - well, she’s believed I’m a murderer twelve years now. I don’t think there’s any convincing her. The damage is done.”
