Having heard his opinion on the situation bothering me, I decided it was best I share with him Emily's behavior lately. I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts and choosing my words carefully, before beginning to explain.
"Dad, I don't know whether I should tell you this, but for me, I don't like how Emily's behavior has changed of late," I said, my voice hesitant at first, my eyes fixed on his, searching for his reaction.
Dad's expression changed from calm to concerned, his eyebrows furrowed in interest, his eyes locked on mine. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice gentle and encouraging, his tone soft and non-judgmental.
I continued, my words spilling out in a rush, my voice filled with emotion. "She dresses provocatively, Dad. And Mom doesn't say anything about it. She even considers it as something normal. Emily has also been hanging out with a few of the boys in her class. The last time, I saw her with one of her classmates at home, alone. And the boy was half-naked," I said, my voice cracking, my eyes welling up with tears.
The look on Dad's face changed to disappointment, his eyes clouding over with concern, his expression filled with regret. He shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "I had no idea it was this bad," he said, his words filled with sorrow. "I'm so sorry, kiddo. I had no idea."
I felt a pang of guilt, wondering if I had done the right thing by telling him. But Dad's next words reassured me, his voice filled with gratitude.
"Thank you for telling me, kiddo," he said, his eyes locked on mine. "I need to know these things. I need to be able to help. I'm glad you trust me enough to come to me with this."
He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing, his voice filled with determination.
"Listen, kiddo. I want you to always try to talk to Emily, to try to change her way. Even if she doesn't listen to you, I want you to always try. You're her sibling, and she looks up to you. You have a lot of influence over her," he said, his words filled with encouragement.
I nodded, feeling a sense of responsibility wash over me, my heart filled with determination. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I was willing to try.
Dad continued, his voice filled with guidance. "Just approach her with love and concern, kiddo. Let her know that you're coming from a good place. Don't judge her, just try to understand her. And always be there for her, no matter what."
He paused, then reached into his pocket and pulled out some cash.
"Hey, kiddo. Why don't you go get an ice cream at the ice cream van over there?" he said, pointing to a van parked a distance away from us. "You deserve it after everything you've been through. And don't worry, I'll talk to Emily, I'll try to help her see sense."
I smiled, feeling a sense of gratitude towards Dad, my heart filled with hope. Maybe, just maybe, things would start to look up. Maybe Dad's talk with Emily would help her change her ways. And maybe, just maybe, our family could start to heal.
As I walked back to where we sat moments ago, ice cream in hand, I noticed that Dad was no longer there. I looked around, expecting to see him nearby, but he was nowhere to be found. I began to feel a sense of unease, wondering where he could have gone. I scanned the surrounding area, my eyes searching for any sign of him. But he was nowhere to be seen.
I started to feel a sense of worry, thinking that maybe something had happened to him. I walked around the park, calling out his name, but there was no response. I was starting to get really concerned, my heart racing with anxiety.
That's when I saw him, standing alone in a secluded spot, his back against a tree. But something was off. He wasn't the calm, collected Dad I had seen just moments ago. He looked devastated, his face twisted in anguish. His eyes were red and puffy, and tears streamed down his face.
As I approached him, I saw that he was punching the wall, his fists clenched in frustration. He was muttering to himself, his words inaudible. I felt a surge of concern, wondering what could have caused him to break down like this.
"Dad, what's wrong?" I asked, my voice shaking with worry. I put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down.
But he just cleaned the tears away, hiding his knuckles behind his back. "Nothing," he replied gruffly, trying to brush it off. He avoided eye contact, looking away from me.
But I knew something was wrong. I could see the pain in his eyes, the despair etched on his face. I knew he wasn't okay.
"Dad, tell me what's wrong," I pressed, trying to get him to open up. I put my other hand on his other shoulder, trying to turn him around to face me.
But he just shook his head, trying to hide his emotions. "I'm just...practicing boxing," he said, forcing a laugh. "I'm thinking of joining a boxing club soon."
I knew it was a lie. Dad had never been interested in boxing before. And even if he was, he wouldn't be practicing in a secluded spot, alone and in tears. I knew he was trying to hide something from me.
"Dad, come on," I said, trying to get him to be honest with me. "What's really going on? You can tell me."
But he just shook his head again, his eyes welling up with tears again. "Nothing, kiddo," he said, his voice cracking. "Just leave it alone."
I knew then that something was seriously wrong. Dad was trying to hide something from me, something that was causing him a lot of pain. I decided to let it go for now, but I knew I would have to confront him about it later. I just hoped he would be okay until then.