“How about more than five hours of sleep a night, Dad, because that’s all I get. Or how about not having to worry about the bills as they keep piling up, or the nurses who won’t come back because you argue with them day in and day out? And how about the fact that I’m twenty-eight...and I look forty,” Joanna said as she crumpled on the edge of the bed. “Dad, I’m sorry. I’ve tried to be strong. I’ve tried to get us caught up, but I can’t. There’s always something. The bloody washer breaks or food never stretches as far as I think it should. I work three jobs, Dad, and I... and I can’t work another. I just can’t.” Bowing her head, Joanna’s shoulders shook as the emotions she had kept in check for so long finally escaped. Gasping for air, she wept...and wept.

The redness of his anger drained from Robert’s face as Joanna’s words acted like a bayonet and pierced his heart. Due to his health, for the most part, he lived the years unaware, free of stress and worry. Tomorrow when he awoke, he’d return to that blissful state of oblivion, only remembering bits and pieces about the day before, but for now, he was cognizant, and he was devastated.

He searched his mind, trying to find the flashbacks that would hold the truth and when a few appeared, he paled even more. Yes, he had noticed she was tired at times and her smile sometimes seemed forced, but he couldn’t remember asking why. Had he, or lost in the monotony of his day, had he only thought about himself? Staring blankly at Joanna, Robert’s jaw began to quiver.

Twice he tried to speak, but like a noose around his neck, his tears choked off his words. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have done this to his daughter? Slowly shaking his head, Robert drew a ragged breath. “Christ, I’ve ruined your life.”

Joanna looked up and quickly wiped away the tears staining her face. “No! No, you haven’t. You’re the most important thing in my life, but I just can’t catch up, Dad. I need a break. We need a break.”

“Not like this, though. Not like this,” Robert said, sniffling back some tears. “Not by putting yourself in the gutter with them and making everyone believe you’re a...you’re a pervert or a...or a freak.”

“They aren’t freaks!”

In an instant, Robert’s prejudice rose to the surface like lava from a volcano, his contempt for the gay community far overshadowing his love for his daughter. “Yes, they are! Those people are sick, and I’d rather die than see you pretend to be something so vile and repugnant.”