She told Johnny about how she had gotten herself declared an emancipated minor, though her father shouted and railed in court against it. His uncontrolled temper tantrum, his citing of the Bible and his “legal control” over her, his “God-given role as the man, the leader of this family, all in it shall follow my rules,” had the judge signing the emancipation papers lightning quit.

The judge said, “I can see why you can’t live with this anymore, Betsy. Are there more children at home? No? Good. Or I would have Children’s Services on you, Hansen, in a heartbeat. You should not have children in the home. You are free to live your life, Betsy, as you see fit. Sit down, Hansen! I said sit the hell down! Now! Bailiff, remove him from the courtroom immediately. You are in contempt!”

So Betsy told Johnny the truth about her childhood, and Johnny told her the truth about his own father: He hated him.

* * *

Peter, Johnny’s father, came in to the café one time when she was working, when Johnny was there having a burger.

Peter was wearing a pin-striped suit, which she thought was tacky. He was also wearing gold rings and a gold bracelet, which she thought were gaudy and probably fake. His dark hair was slicked back with grease, which made him look like he belonged to the mob. He hadn’t smiled at her, but his black, raisin-like eyes had traveled grossly down the length of her body, stopping at her breasts and hips. She felt dirty. She felt evaluated and judged.

There are men who want to, who must, control women. When they can’t control them, they become dangerous and violent. They think women are good for serving them and sex. Nothing more. Inside, they hate women.

Peter was exactly like her own father. He was a shady used car salesman. Her father pretended to be a man of God. What were the chances that two people would meet up, fall in love, and have the same type of father lurking and looming in their backgrounds? But maybe that was part of it: They saw the fear and pain in each other’s eyes and reached out a hand.

But Betsy couldn’t have known the truth about what Peter had done then.

There was something that Johnny didn’t tell her about his father. Not for a while. He hadn’t realized the truth until recently. He had blocked it out. It hurt him to even speak of it. It brought rage bubbling to the surface like hot lava, next to the insidious fear that rose up whenever he was around Peter.

Johnny was scared of his father. He had every right to be.

* * *

Seated together, in court, Johnny’s and Betsy’s eyes locked and their desperate love was the same as it had always been.

“I love you,” she mouthed to Johnny.

“I love you, too,” he mouthed back.