This is another guest post by Lyra Swann. Her first post is here
My dad loves me.
He emails me, he wants to know how I'm doing, he cares about me, he wants me to be happy.
He offers me advice, he offers money, he reminds me that if I need help then I can call on him. He cries when I leave.
He jokes, he uses sarcasm and play-irritation. He feigns anger for laughs. I laugh along. It's less scary that way.
I can't tell when his mood switches. Perhaps he was always angry. Perhaps he never was. His irritation is genuine now.
I put my head down. I minimise my presence, just as I did as a child. Even the wrong look used to provoke a harsh word, a smack.
I've
spent my life trying to please him. And he wants to see me, to have a
relationship with me. He'll be very upset if I don’t. It seems like the
easiest option.
My dad loves me.
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