The Boy Who Knew Me When(51)

How did he know about that? Aunt Tilly and I seriously needed to have a little chat about boundaries and the fact that my business was not hers to share.

“Your aunt and I are close; we dated all throughout high school. When she came to me to help her brother I was more than happy to do what I could.”

Wait, didn’t Tilly say she never seriously dated anyone? All throughout high school definitely sounded like a long term commitment to me.

“OK, well, thanks for that I guess.”

“No thanks necessary. It has been a while since you have seen your father has it not?” I nodded knowing full well that he knew the answer to that question.

“Have you been regularly taking your medication Jemma?”

His sudden inquiry into my personal life took me by shock.

“Yes I have but what business is it of yours?” I inquire slightly annoyed.

“I just want to be clear, your father has come a long way and I know that someone with a manic personality can be difficult if they do not have things under control.”

Was this man actually telling me that he was trying to protect my father from me? The man was a diagnosed sociopath; he murdered my mother and tried to see to it that I met her same fate. I was no danger to him.

“Like I said, I have been taking my medication. You know it was very hard for me to come here today Dr. Scott. I only came because Dr. Schneider seems to think this visit will somehow be beneficial to me, though I have yet to figure out why exactly. He just said that by being here I might start to discover in me a tiny bit of the normalcy that my father and Ignacio Hernandez stole from me.”

I was angry, angrier than I had been in a very long time only I was not entirely sure what Dr. Scott did to spark that anger.

“Relax Jemma; I am not trying to upset you. I just want to make sure this reunion   goes smoothly for the both of you. That is why I am here, for both of you.”

We were interrupted by a buzzing sound on the box in front of him. He pressed a button and a quiet female voice echoed through the room, letting the doctor know that someone had arrived.

”Send him in, Marcy.” he said releasing the button and walking over to open the door.

First a large man who didn’t look much older than Julian walked through the door. Behind him was my father. Our eyes met instantly and I had to fight back the wave of emotion that would have surely knocked me off of my feet had I not been sitting down.

His hair was still dark with only a small gray streak running along the side of his head. He was taller than I remembered, his skin lighter but he was still my father and he looked happy, at peace even. He still looked like the same man who had bounced me on his knee in the middle of the night after I awoke from a bad dream. The same man who taught me to swim, how to pitch a fast ball, who taught me that beauty started on the inside, the same man who murdered my mother; the only woman he claimed to ever love.

“John, why don’t we sit at the conference table, shall we?” My father took a seat at the table never taking his eyes from mine while the man stood behind him.

“Jemma?” Dr. Scott asked gesturing towards the table. Reluctantly I stood, taking the seat opposite my father.

“Well, at last, here we all are. John has invited y....”

“You are beautiful, princess.” My dad interrupted. I could see the admiration beneath the tears welling up in his eyes. I quickly looked away after mouthing “Thanks”.

“As I was saying John has invited you here because he has hit a stage in his treatment where he is forced to face his demons.”

So I was a demon now?

“During our time together your father has confided in me as well as many others on our staff the events that occurred the night of your accident and in order for him to continue to improve he has been asked to relive those events with you today.”

I snapped. “I don’t want to relive those events. I relive them every damned day!”

“Jemma, please. You see, the events that you remember and the events that your father has confided are very different from one another. I think it is important that you give him the opportunity to share with you his accounts of the events that took place on the night your mother was killed and you were hurt.”

I turned to my father.

”Why are you doing this to me? I was there. You cannot tell me anything I don’t already know.”

My father looked at me with a compassion that I had not seen since I was a child. Something about it made me want to climb into his lap and cry myself to sleep in his arms. I cringed at the emotions flittering through me and then my father began to speak.

“Jemma, princess...”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” I shrieked.