“It almost killed me, Father,” she said, the anguish showing. “You don’t know how terribly I—” But she stopped herself, ashamed. He didn’t know, and she didn’t want him to know. She was the one who cared about their relationship, who wanted love and trust and gentleness between them. Not her father. He didn’t give a damn, as long as she minded him. “You said you had no daughter,” she repeated bitterly.
“You wanted it that way, Laura.”
She turned to stare at him, incredulous. “I?” She said. “I wanted it that way?”
“You denied my existence before I ever denied yours,” he said. “You ran away from me.”
“You forced me to.”
“I did no such thing.”
“You made life intolerable for me.”
“I didn’t mean to.” It was an extraordinary admission, completely unexpected, and she looked at him speechless for a moment.
“Then why didn’t you show me some kindness?” she said. “Just a very little would have gone a long way, Father.”
He crushed out his cigarette in the heavy ashtray with an expression of contempt on his face. “You women are all alike, I swear to God,” he said. “Give you a little and you demand a lot.”
“What’s wrong with a lot?” she said, trembling. “You’re my father.”
“Yes, exactly!” he said, so roughly that she ducked. “I’m your father!”
“Did you treat my mother this way?” she whispered. “Her life must have been hell.”
He looked for a minute as if he would strangle her. She stood her ground, pale and frightened, until he relented suddenly and turned his profile to her, looking out the window. “Your mother,” he said painfully, “was my wife. I adored her.”
Laura was absolutely unable to answer him. She sat down weakly in the stuffed chair by the dresser and put her face in her hands. Her father—her enormous gruff harsh father—had never spoken such a tender word in her presence in her life.
“I could never marry again, when she died,” he said. Laura felt frightened as she always did when her mother’s death was mentioned. She expected him to turn on her unreasonably as he had so often before. “I never struck her.”
“Then why me?” she implored out of a dry throat.
He turned and looked at her, his mouth twisted a little, running a distraught hand through his hair. “You needed it,” was all he would say.
“What for?”
“You needed it, that’s what for!” And she was afraid to push him further. After some minutes he said, “Laura, you’re coming back to Chicago with me.”
“No Father, I can’t. I won’t.”
“That’s why I waited for you,” he went on, as if she had said nothing. “I won’t go to Chicago or anywhere else with you. I’m through with you.”
“You could look for work with a radiologist, if you like it so well. I won’t insist on journalism. You have a flair for it, it’s a waste to leave the field, but I won’t insist. You see, Laura, I can be human enough.”
She stared at him. She had never heard him talk like this. He glanced at her, annoyed by the look on her face. “I’ve made reservations,” he said, “for June first. That’s Saturday. I could probably get earlier ones.”
“Father.” She stood up. “I can’t come with you.”
“Don’t say that!” he commanded her, so sharply that she started.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“You can, and you will. That’s all I want to hear on the subject.” As she started once again to protest he held his hands up for silence. “No more discipline, Laura. I promise you that. I was a fool. You were too, but never mind that now. I was too hard on you, it’s true. I see that. Well, you’re more or less grown up by this time. I guess we can dispense with spanking.”
“Spanking! It was more than that and you know it!”
“Don’t argue with me, Laura.” He turned on her, his voice low and fierce. Then, making a visible effort to calm himself, he said, “Get your things together and I’ll see about the reservations.”
“No.”
“Don’t fight me, Laura.”
“Father, there’s something you don’t know about me.” I have to tell him. I’ll never be free from him till I tell him. Till he knows what he’s made of his only child. “There’s something you don’t know about me,” she whispered.
“I don’t doubt it. Now hurry up, we’ve wasted enough time.”
“Father…listen to me.” It was almost too hard to say. Her legs were trembling and her heart was wild.
“Well, out with it, for God’s sake! Jesus, Laura, you go through more agony…Well? What is it?” He frowned at her tense face.
“I—I’m a—homosexual.”
His mouth dropped open and his whole body went rigid. Laura shut her eyes and prayed. She held her lower lip in her teeth, ready for the blow, and felt the humiliating tears begin to squeeze through her shut lids. She moaned a little.
He made up his mind fast and his voice cracked out like a lash. “Nonsense!” he snarled.
“It’s true!” Her eyes flew open and she cried again, passionately, “It’s true!” It was her bid for freedom; she had to show this courage, this awful truth to him, or she would never walk away from him. She would spend all her life in a panic of fear lest he find her out. “I’m in love with my roommate. I’ve made love—”
“All right, all right, all right!” he shouted. His voice was rough and his face contorted. He turned away from her and put his hands over his face. She watched him, every muscle tight and aching.
At last he let his hands drop and said quietly, “Did I do that to you, Laura?”
Without hesitating, without even certain knowledge, but only the huge need to hurt him, she said, “Yes.”
He turned slowly around and faced her and she had never seen his face like that before. It was pained and full of gentleness. Perhaps it looked that way to her mother now and then. “I did that to you,” he said
