"Your mother does not need excuses for her behavior. She's a full grown woman and she owns what she has done," my father said. "Someday, you might understand that."
"I am glad that you worked through whatever problems you had, but you have to understand this is more than 'behavior.' She can't control it, and it is wearing her down. If she doesn't get some real support, things are only going to get worse."
"She has support," my father said. "I support her, just like I've always supported you and your sister."
I saw his throat close over the mention of Sienna. My father tried hard to swallow and turned away. I caught his arm before he could head down the hallway. "You have to see the similarities between Mom and Sienna. Doesn't that scare you? Don't you want to make sure something like that never happens again?"
My father jerked back around and shook both hands at me. "I get how you are drawing parallels between the two. Of course you are more sensitive to things like this now. But that does not mean you are the only person in this family that is seeing things in the right light. You're so lost right now, you don't even know what right looks like."
I crossed my arms, but his words had already hurt me. "You can't fix her. You couldn't help Sienna. All you did was pretend everything was alright and let her keep her eyes on the perfect future. You didn't fix the problems that weighed her down every day. And you can't fix Mom, either. Aren't you tired of trying on your own?"
"Who's going to help me?" My father's eyes were angry and distant. He ran his hands through his hair, ragged and helpless.
"Me. I'm in this family too. I know it’s been hard to see me with Mom and Sienna needing all of your attention, but I can help. I'm here," I said.
"You're only here because you screwed everything up at college," he said. His shoulders slumped. "And I let you. You're right. I was so busy with your mother and sister that I never saw what a mess you were getting yourself into."
"But I'm fine!" I said. "When was the last time you saw me have a tantrum, cry, hide out in my room, lose hope, or shut down? There have been plenty of opportunities lately, but I think I've weathered it all."
My father looked exhausted. The fight was finally leaving him. He leaned his back against the wall and loosened his crossed arms. "You always bounced back," he said. "Even as a little girl, you always bounced back. You know your mother marvels at you for that very reason. She told me you have a new plan already and that you're going to do it all yourself."
"First, I'm going to help you come up with a plan for Mom," I said. "You should ask Dr. Carson for a recommendation. Please, he's our family doctor. I can't believe he hasn't recommended anything before."
"He has," my father admitted. He pushed away from the wall and shuffled into the living room.
We sat down together on the couch.
He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "So, I will call Dr. Carson in the morning."
"You know that is fixing it," I said. "Helping Mom find someone to help her understand and minimize the effects of bipolar disorder is the best way you can help her fix it."
He sat back and gave a tired smile. "That's why I like the law. It’s got gray areas, but if you set up your defense correctly, then the law falls in place neatly. There's order to it."
"Well, if you're looking for a win tonight I've got a good one for you," I said. I knew he was exhausted, but I also knew my father could never resist a case. Work had helped him get through so many of the other rough nights before.
"Alright," he said, sitting up a little straighter. "Give me the whole thing again. From tonight. What did Trent say?"
"Trent said that Owen's roommate Jasper left the party abruptly with Anya. Then, the police showed up. The last two times, they have not found anything in Owen's apartment, and this time, they found marijuana on him. So, they've arrested him."
"Must have been a lot. Intent to sell," my father said.
"No, I think he might have resisted arrest," I said.
"He was drinking?"
I took a deep breath. "Yes. He actually got very drunk, very quickly, which was also strange. And then when he went to lay down, Anya went in and was leaning over him."
My father held up his hand. "I don't need details from an unreliable witness. I'm assuming your feelings for him are clouding your memory of that particular incident."
"Yes, but I'll be the first to admit I have no idea what I saw. She was leaning over him, and her hair was in the way. It could have been a kiss, a conversation, or anything. Whatever it was, there was plenty of time for her to plant something on him," I said.
"So you forgive Owen for whatever it was?"
It was my turn to be defensive. "Why does that matter? You hate the idea of me being with him."
"But you want me to defend him. You are obviously willing to give him the benefit of the doubt," he said.
"Innocent until proven guilty, right?"