Rewriting History by Missy Johnson Page A

his voice takes me by surprise, and a wave of guilt hits me. Should we be having this conversation when he’s clearly not well?
    “Dad, hi.” I hesitate, debating whether or not to continue. He’s not stupid, though; he knows something is wrong by the simple fact that I called him. We haven’t spoken outside of necessity for years.
    “Eli, is everything okay?” Concern laces his voice, and I sigh. I can hear the panic in his voice already, so I may as well just get this over and done with.
    Running a hand through my hair, I clear my throat. “Why did you cheat on Mom?”
    “Shit,” he curses under his breath, and I know to him it probably feels like it has come out of nowhere, but it hasn’t. This moment has been building up inside me for years. I’ve wanted to confront him for so long, to find out what it is I don’t know about what happened. My anger feels as raw as it did back when I was ten, trying to overhear my parents arguing in the bedroom.
    “This is over and done with, Eli. Can’t we just move on?” he asks, his voice strained. “Why now?”
    “Move on?” I laugh bitterly. “You robbed me of my teenage years for a quick fuck with a teenager .” I sit down on the edge of the sofa. My hands are shaking; I’m struggling to contain my anger. “You have no fucking idea what you put me through, Dad. What you put Mom through.”
    “I ruined everything, I know,” he says.
    He thinks I’m being dramatic .
    “What’s this about? Why now? Is this about you and Jill? God, Eli, tell me you’ve stopped seeing her,” he sighs.
    “It has nothing to do with Jill and everything to do with what a cunt of a father and husband you were,” I growl. I’m angry now. “You’ve fooled the girls, but not me. I saw a side to you they didn’t.”
    I shake my head, because he really has no idea. Nothing is ever his fault. The years of verbal abuse, the constant reminder that I’d never live up to his expectations—I could handle all that because that was just who he was. But what he did to Mom was the final straw.
    “Seven failed suicide attempts, Dad. Years of finding her passed out on the sofa with an empty bottle of vodka by her side. I had to work, study, and care for her when she couldn’t force herself out of bed in the morning because you couldn’t keep your fucking dick in your pants.”
    “Your mother . . .” His voice trails off, then he sighs. “Your mother had problems long before I cheated on her, Eli.”
    “You’re right, she did. Even more reason why you should have known better.” My words are harsh, but I don’t care. All the anger pent up inside me is flowing out and I have no idea where it’s going to stop. “I need to know everything, Dad.”
      “Okay,” he mumbles.
    My heart pounds as I wait for him to continue.
    “I was a part-time lecturer at the University of Colorado, as well as keeping my principal duties at school,” he says. “There was a girl. Nineteen. Her name was Cecily. We just clicked. It was innocent at first, just talking. But then the conversations got more flirtatious.” He swallows.
    “Did you stop for a moment to think about Mom? Or me?” I ask, raising my voice. 
    “I loved your mom more than you’ll ever know. Hell . . . I still do,” he growls. “But your mom and I were going through our own set of issues. I regret it every day of my life, Eli. I can’t change what happened though. I don’t expect you to understand. The thing about fucking up is you don’t realize it until it’s too late.”
    Jill springs into my mind. My God , do I know .  She’s the first thing I think about when I wake up, and she invades my dreams every night. What if I were in Dad’s position? Would I have cheated on someone else with Jill? How can I know that? 
    “Fucking years, Dad,” I yell. “I put up with years of shit from you, then living with Mom’s alcohol abuse and her depression. All because you decided to waste your family to dip your wick in