argyle_princess: (just plain angry)
[personal profile] argyle_princess


It is not, Hannah tells herself, like she hasn't had some difficult conversations with her father over the past couple of years. There was the one about her first boyfriend, the one about going to boarding school, the one about not going to boarding school, the one about his drug use . . .

So this shouldn't be a big deal.

She called him at work that morning, and asked if they could have dinner. It's on The Schedule as an Evening At Dad's, but she hasn't been keeping to that the last couple of days, and it seemed only fair to confirm.

It might have gone better if he hadn't been talking on his cell phone on his way into the house that evening. Or if he'd been talking to someone other than Monica. Or if he hadn't been talking about Hannah.

But, then again, maybe not.

" . . . Hannah's really not usually like this," Tom is saying. "Well, yes, I will talk to her about the other night. Yes. Yes. Yes, I know. Well, I wasn't happy about it either. No, Monica. No. Yes. Well, not really." He looks up and sees Hannah, then, sitting on the couch in the living room. "I'll call you back."

"Don't hang up on her on my account," Hannah says, but he does. "Forget we had plans, Daddy?"

He had, she can tell, but he shakes his head. "No, of course not."

"Right."

"Did you want to order in or go out or try to cook?" Tom asks.

"Actually, I think we probably ought to talk first," Hannah says. "I'm worried about you."

"Hannah, there's no reason to be worried about me," he says. "Anyway, that's not your job."

"You know, you might want to save that particular argument to use on someone who didn't have a front-row seat for your withdrawal. You were perfectly happy let me worry about you last year."

"You think I was 'happy' about any of that?" Tom asks.

"You certainly didn't object."

"I don't remember you giving me much of a choice, Hannah."

Hannah stares at him. "So, what, you want me to apologize for making you get clean?"

"No, of course not," Tom says.

"Then what, Daddy?"

"Hannah . . ." he says, in that calm, let's-be-rational, condescending tone she has hated for years.

"No," she says, and she's not calm or rational about it. "Look, I'm worried. And after everything, I have a right to be worried. Especially since it was your bad decisions that made my entire life go haywire. Everything -- the divorce, everything with Logan Echolls and boarding school, everything I went through at that high school when I came back, all of it starts with you using. And what I know right now is that you have changed while I've been away. Your personality, the way you treat me, the horrible woman you're dating, the fact that you didn't tell me about her. You're different."

"And you think I'm using drugs again?" Tom says, flatly.

"Are you?" Hannah demands, and the question hangs there in the room. It's a step too far, she knows it as she asks. To make it clear she has that little faith in him.

The problem is, she's no longer 100% certain she knows the answer without having to ask.

"I am not having this conversation with you right now," Tom says. "We can discuss certain things when you calm down."

Hannah considers all the calm, mature, responsible responses she can have to this, and then she stands up, and picks up her purse.

"In that case, I'll see you at spring break," she says. "Maybe."

He doesn't try to stop her when she leaves.
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Hannah Griffith

June 2009

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