I turned toward the door, feeling lighter, freer than I had in years. As I reached for the handle, I heard him take a step toward me.
“Lucille, wait.”
I stopped, but I didn’t look back. “Why should I?”
“Can we… talk about this?” His voice was softer, almost pleading. “I didn’t realize—”
I let out a bitter laugh. “No, Kelvin. You didn’t realize, and that’s exactly why I’m leaving. There’s nothing left to talk about.”
“Fine!” Patricia snapped, breaking her silence. “Go, then. Run away, like you always do.”
I finally turned to face her, giving her a look that could cut steel. “Oh, I’m not running away, Patricia. I’m setting myself free.” I glanced at Kelvin, my gaze steady. “Good luck. You’ll need it with her.”
Kelvin’s face twisted in frustration, “Then why didn’t you tell me she was gone? Why didn’t you call? Or at least send a message? My God, Lucille, our daughter died, and I had to find out like this?!”
Our daughter?
Pff.
I laughed sarcastically. “Are you serious? I called you, Kelvin. I called you so many times. I sent messages—hundreds of them. But you never answered. You never responded.” I turned a glare to Patricia, my jaw clenched. “Or should I say, *you never got them*?”
Kelvin’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, come on, Kelvin.” I glanced at Patricia, whose face paled slightly. “Ask your precious Patricia where your phone was. Ask her why she ‘helped’ you by making sure you were out of reach. Ask yourself why you’re an irresponsible father! And ask her why you missed your own daughter’s last request while she dragged you off on some ‘emergency’ vacation.”
His face twisted with confusion, then anger, as he looked at Patricia. “Is that true?”
