“That’s impressive,” I say with a little smile. “He must have truly loved her.”
She seems to sense the uneasiness in my voice.
“Yeah he did. I’m sorry … I shouldn’t talk about her. You look upset which is understandable.”
I shake my head. “No… it’s okay. It’s beautiful to hear about love like that. It’s me who shouldn’t talk about her though. It was my father who was responsible for her death.”
“That doesn’t make you guilty.”
“But I’m here because of her, right? I’m guilty by association. I know things have changed but it’s true.”
“No it’s not. I don’t believe in guilty by association. I think that’s a concept that wanting revenge creates. You aren’t your father Isabella and while you can feel sorrow for the things he’s done, you can’t feel guilty because blood doesn’t define who you are.”
Her words mean a lot.
“Thanks. I appreciate that,” I say and she gives me a curt nod. “I’m not like him. I was never like him, and honestly I don’t know how it was my mother ended up with a man like him.”
“Sometimes we’ll never know the reasons for things our parents do,” she replies. It’s another wise answer I agree with.
I’ve never been able to understand either of my parents and both their decisions led me here to a place where I’m plotting my father’s death.