The mentioning of my mother stings unexpectedly.

Ever since Ben's funeral yesterday, I've been thinking back to hers. Wondering if she would approve of the woman I'm trying to become. Of Merrick. Of Nadie raising me. I wonder if she would loathe what my father's turned into like I am beginning to. I wonder if she would be upset he didn't go after Nadie like he should've. For a good portion of the night that's all my brain could seem to wrap itself around. Needless to say I didn't get much rest.

Nadie puts the spatula down. “You okay?”

I fold my arms across my chest. “Just a little tired. It's been a long few days.”

“Why don't you take a minute and rest?”

“Need to finish packing a couple things before I call it a day.” After she nods, I ask, “Hey, where are the photo albums? I was hoping to take a couple with me. Ya know, in case I get homesick.”

Nadie's done a great job keeping actual albums as much as online ones. I guess that's her art craft. Ya know everyone has something. Even you. Even if you don't think you do.

“Which ones? The ones with your mom or after her?”

The question makes me shift uncomfortably. “Both?”

“Photo albums with pictures after her are in the living room in the bottom drawer of the coffee table. Before her are in your father's office. Second book case, second shelf.”

I hate how he does shit like that. Nadie doesn't deserve it. As much as I miss my mom and wonder what life would be like if she were still here, every now and again, she's not. I've accepted it. I've dealt with it. He's needs to too. Not put up walls to keep Nadie at bay. To keep himself from moving on. To keep us all from moving on.

“Thanks.”

I turn my heels to exit when she questions, “You do know he's in there, right?”

“Yeah...”

“You ready for that?”

With a shrug I answer, “As ready as I'm ever gonna be.”

“I'm here for you Jo'.”

You too? Thanks. Have I told you I appreciate that?

Nervously I approach my dad's office door. Instead of taking the two steps back my gut tells me I should, I push forward and stroll into the room that's never felt warm.

Today it feels extra chilly. Not quite arctic, but cold enough I feel I need a sweater. You got one I can borrow?

To my left are the wooden bookshelves, I know I need to grab the photo album from. To the right a long leather couch and coffee table with files stacked on it. Right in front of me, two seats in front of a large cherry wood desk covered in papers with him hovering over it rather than sitting.

Before I have the chance to ask about the photo albums, he snaps his head up from the photo he was staring at. His entire body seems to tense. Carefully he places the photo down and slides a hand in his pocket, eyes stuck on me.

“Yes?”

He really is almost always this impersonal. Well, that is of course unless he's making tyrant demands on how to conduct my life.

“I just..I just came to grab a couple photo albums to take with me.”

He nods. “Packing?”

“Yes.”

He nods again this time sliding his other hand into his pocket. “Is that what you and Hayli have done all day?”

“That and argue over how to decorate my new room. I'm all for simple colors and she seems to think I need to be a little more adventurous.”

He mumbles under his breath, “That's the last thing you need.”

Oh look. He's ready to fight. Wish me luck.

“Why? Because I was friends with Ben?”

“Is that all you were?” The accusation reminds me of Tyler's.

Scowling, I snap back, “Pretty sure I wasn't involved with him that way, but even if I was, that would've been my choice.”

“No,” he quickly denies. “You don't get to make those types of choices Jo'.”

“Who to date? I don't get to choose who I date?”

“I don't want you dating.”

“Well tough shit dad!”

Oh...Oh I could've said that better.

“Excuse me?”

“You don't get to pick who I date. Or who I fall in love with. Or my friends. I'm an adult.”

“An adult who lies to her father?”

“Who feels she has to!” I yell. “I have to walk on egg shells around you because I'm afraid that you're gonna lock me in this house and throw away the key! I have missed out on so much because I don't wanna hurt you or disappoint you or have to deal with the lengths you will go to to try to stop me from doing something you don't approve of!”

On a long exhale he shakes his head. “I don't approve of things that can harm you. And drug dealing street racers fit into that category!”

“And me having a car?”

“There are so many accidents-”

“And my dress being short-”

“Rape statistics say-”

“And my eating shellfish? Working a job in the evening?” His mouth moves but I cut him off. “There's always something to be afraid of and I'm tired of being afraid. I wanna live dad. And as much as it kills me to say this, that's what I'm going to do. From this point forward, I am going to actually live my life.”

He points a firm finger at me. “Not with trash like Ben.”

“You didn't even know him!”

“I know the case files on my desk. I know the crimes he's committed.”

“He's so much more than a case file.”

“And that's supposed to matter to me?”

Cold blooded much?

“Wow...”

“He was a pain in my ass, Jovi. The laws he broke. The tax dollar he's cost. The lives he put at risk-”

“He was a good person dad. He had a good heart-”

“I don't give a damn if he had the heart of saint! He still chose to live above the law. He chose to put his selfish ways above those of this city and that is a problem.”

“Kind of like you chose to put the needs of this city above those of your only daughter?”

He looks wounded by the words, yet I don't regret them.

They needed to be said.

“Jo'-” His voice is cut off by his work phone.

He hesitates to grab it, so I encourage. “Go ahead. Work always comes first.”

On a short grunt he answers it. “Hello?”

Knowing he's going to be a minute I lean against the edge of his desk moving the photos out of my way, so I don't bend them. In the process one in particular catches my eye.

“No. He's in jail for a reason Jon,” my father grumbles turning his back to me, which is when I pull the photo closer. “I don't care. He needs to be there.”

Cautiously I lift the photo. With a trembling bottom lip, I run my finger across it.

“I will not let him out as a favor. Jon, has it occurred to you that maybe he should be behind bars? Maybe he'll learn a lesson for once. Maybe this will stick.” There's a muffled uproar on the other end of the phone before he lets out a deep sigh of surrender. “Yeah! Fine! Fine! I'll come in, but doesn't mean I'm letting Tyler go.” There's a few more mumbles before he hangs up and looks at me. “I have to go in.” When I don't reply he questions, “Something wrong Jo'?”

Swallowing the lump in my throat I point to the photo. “That's a Lotus Elise.”

His voice hardens. “How do you know that?”

“I um...” Clearing my throat becomes difficult as I look up into his eyes. “We watched a movie with Ben one night and it had one of these in it.”

“What was it called?”

Taken off guard by the follow up question I shrug. “Adrenaline something. I don't remember the name.”

“Those fucking movies are all the same,” my dad grumbles. “Always show how much 'fun' it is and never the actual lives that get lost during it. One of the many problems with those movies. Encouraging the youth that that lifestyle's acceptable. Encourag-”

“This is a picture of Ghost,” the words clog my throat again.

“Haunting me as always.”

“Was this recent?”

“Few weeks ago,” he denies. “I just got it a couple days ago. It's hard to tell that's him, but I know it is. I know that mask. I know his build.”