Chapter 41 #2
‘You’re entitled to believe whatever you want, and so am I, no matter how much you dislike that fact. And I’m sorry if my lifestyle choices cause you sorrow or shame or disappointment, but that’s on you. It’s not on me.’
Daddy slams his tumbler down hard on the glass-topped coffee table, and we all flinch. ‘Where the hell is this blasphemy coming from, Belina? Is it from him?’ He jerks his thumb at Rafe.
‘No, it’s not from Rafe,’ I say quietly. ‘It’s been a long time coming, and I’m sorry yesterday expedited this conversation, but at the same time I think it’s good that we’re doing it.’
‘Are you telling me you reject the teachings of the Church?’ Daddy asks, his voice menacing. ‘All of it? Or just the parts that inconveniently judge you for your sins of the flesh? Because the Bible is very clear on that front.’
Oh dear, sweet mother of Jesus. This man will be the death of me. I knew he’d try to out-doctrine me.
‘The thing is, it doesn’t matter which parts I’m rejecting,’ I tell him, ‘because it’s none of your business.
And I don’t mean that rudely. It’s my business, and my soul, and mine alone.
Honestly, you’re so religiously conservative that sometimes it terrifies me, and sometimes it makes me furious, and sometimes it makes me want to run a mile in the other direction.
But it’s none of my business. You’re a grown man.
You’re entitled to your beliefs, no matter how extreme I think they are.
And I’m entitled to mine, no matter how immoral you think they are. ’
I pause, mainly to check I haven’t given my father a stroke. His face is puce, his eyes disbelieving.
Mummy interjects first. Of course she does. ‘But he’s your father, Belle,’ she says weakly. ‘He wants what’s best for you—we both do.’
‘I know you think that,’ I tell them both, ‘but I’m an adult, and I reserve the right to make my own decisions about what I do and don’t believe without him worrying about whether I’m eternally damned.’
I drag both my palms over my face in frustration.
‘Look, Daddy. It’s very straightforward.
Everybody should be doing what serves them.
You get to keep your beliefs, and I get to live my life.
I shouldn’t have to worry about your judgements of the choices I make—that’s on you.
And you shouldn’t have to worry about my eternal soul.
‘There are billions of people out there who aren’t Catholic, and if you insist on seeing my stepping away from a faith that doesn’t serve me as some kind of failure, then that’s arrogant beyond belief.
Honestly, all I’m asking for is a little respect.
Your way is not the only way. It’s not necessarily the right way.
I don’t try to control what you believe, so please, for God’s sake, offer me the same courtesy. ’
‘I don’t know who you are right now,’ he mutters, staring unseeingly at me. ‘You’re not the daughter I raised.’
I feel a pang in my heart, because this is the problem with blinkering yourself. The world around you changes, the people you love grow and evolve, and you’re so intent on not noticing that you get the shock of your life when someone finally makes you aware.
‘I’m sorry, but that’s another thing I can’t take responsibility for,’ I say.
‘I know this must be a shock to you, but honestly, I’m frustrated, too.
I’m seriously frustrated that it’s taken me so long to work out that I’m allowed to believe what I like and do what I like with my own body.
And I’m even more pissed off that I’ve felt so guilty and conflicted the entire time.
‘Honestly, I’m done pretending. I can’t live my life to protect you from disappointment.
I just need to live. And you need to get on board with that concept.
I hope you can find it in you to love me for who I am, and not who you want me to be, but you need to know this.
I will never, ever allow you to speak to me like you did yesterday or call me names like that.
And if you can’t make that promise, then I’ll have to put a lot more distance between us, just to protect myself. I don’t want to, but I’ll do it.’
I begin to cry. I cannot believe I’m having this conversation with my father. That it’s come to this. That all the bandages Mummy and I have desperately smoothed over the dysfunction in our family for so many years have come unstuck, revealing a chasm so gaping I’m not sure we can traverse it.
‘I love you so much,’ I say through shuddering tears, ‘but not enough to hurt myself just to please you, okay? I just—I’m exhausted. I can’t do it anymore, so I hope you can meet me halfway.’
Silence.
Mummy is crying. Daddy is shell-shocked. He’s a man whose perception of his entire world has been proven false.
I feel awful. Hideous. So, so guilty. So cruel.
And immensely, extraordinarily relieved to have laid my burden at my father’s feet.
Rafe breaks the silence. ‘I think that’s a lot for everyone to digest. Belle’s shattered. How about we leave you to have a think about what she’s said?’
Daddy nods, picking up his glass and draining it. His jaw’s so tense he may shatter his teeth. He can’t look at me.
Rafe stands and tugs me to my feet. ‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you home.’