I waited for Dad to wind down.There was no point in arguing with him when he was worked up, especially if he’d had anything to drink, which was probable.
He finally stopped yelling and stood there, livid; his chest heaving as he panted- apparently yelling at me was a strenuous activity.
Now we can discuss this like calm, sensible adults.
I resisted the urge to speak my thoughts. Me: Dad, will you please listen to me? And not interrupt?
Him:You’re never to see him again.
I sighed, what an empty threat. Me: I go to the same school as him Dad, it’s inevitable.
Him: We’re moving.
I wasn’t surprised, it was just like my dad to run away from a problem. Me: No Dad, you don’t even know what happened.
He looked furious. Him: I come home to see you on the floor with some boy? What am I supposed to think of that Cynthia?
I felt my temper slipping. Me: Dad, 1. I’d never do that on the floor, and 2. if you haven’t noticed, our clothes were on.
He blinked, looking me over as though just assessing that fact.