“Oh, damn. It was the girls that dared you to do it.”

Erin searched his gaze and finally nodded. “Exactly. I’d been set up. They didn’t want me as a friend. And they thought it was funny that I’d been dumb enough to think they’d accept me into their group, no matter what I did to earn the privilege. So you weren’t the only kid to be laughed at. End of story.”

He shook his head. “No, Erin. I think that’s only the beginning of your story.”

She placed her napkin on the table. “No, actually. My story ends there. From that moment forward, I put everything I had into pleasing my father, and it became his story, his dream, and I was only an actor on the stage. I knew what I wanted, but it was never the same thing he wanted. I wasn’t as strong-minded as you, though. You were determined and never gave up. I wasn’t determined enough, and after my one brush with the law, I caved. My dad got the offense expunged from my record. I’m not sure how, but I think he must have greased palms and called in some favors. And from that point forward, I lived to accomplish the dreams he had for me. I wanted to be a speech therapist. He wanted me to become a state cop. I rebelled by becoming a county cop instead, but as good as it made me feel to do it my way, it didn’t last, because in the end I realized that I was still doing what he wanted and only changing it up a little.”

“And you’re angry.”

She spent a moment thinking about that. “Not angry, really. I made my own decisions, and even though he pressured me to make the choices he wanted me to make, I could have stood up for myself. Somewhere along the way, it became all-important to make him proud of me. I craved words of praise from him, which didn’t come often, but that only made me want his approval all the more. Jonas says we can all fall victim to that when we don’t fit in as kids. We find one thing that we believe will make us feel better and doggedly pursue it. For me, that one thing was hearing my dad say, ‘Good job.’”

“And for me, it was learning to talk so well that I could pass as a hearing person.”

“Yeah, I guess. I hadn’t thought of the similarity.”

“It’s very similar, actually, except that achieving my goal has made me feel better, and I’m not so sure you do.”

“Not really, no. Mostly I just feel lost. I was never passionate about law enforcement. Instead I wanted to help people. When my father kept pushing me, I told myself I could do a lot of good as a cop.” The color in her cheeks deepened, a telltale sign that it embarrassed her to speak of something so personal. “I pretty much pictured myself as Mother Teresa in uniform. Someone on the streets who helped runaway teens and drug addicts, the homeless, and abused children. Only that isn’t what law enforcement is about. Officers don’t stop crime. We just discourage it with our presence or do follow-up. We don’t save children from abuse. Most of the time, we’re called in after the fact, and our only job is to get the child to a safe place and try to make the person responsible pay. We’re not always successful. Children get returned to the war zone. The abuser gets his hand slapped. Sometimes it all happens again and again to the same child. I got a rush at first. I thought we were winning the battle. But over time, I came to understand that I was only doing cleanup. I stopped nothing bad from happening. Very little, anyway. And before long I felt so disillusioned.”