It was a sentence that no parent would want to hear their child speak. If Robert’s daughter felt as if she had no home, no safe space for her to return to, no familiarity or warmth to greet her after a stormy day at sea, what did that say about him? About his role as a father? What did that sense of loss tell about Val’s childhood? He parted his lips while glancing down at his glass of whiskey, hoping to find some reassurance spilling out of his mouth. One little white lie that could bring some COMFORT to the only person left on earth who shared his blood. But instead, he was met with his own silence. He pressed his glass against his lips and drank. Only thing he knew how to do nowadays was just that ; get drunk. Only thing he could TRUST himself to be capable to do and do WELL.

Robert furrowed his brow, disappointed at his own inability to be a GOOD PARENT. He couldn’t even LIE to Val … FOR Val. PATHETIC.       ❝   I’m sorry. ❞    He mumbled.       ❝   I wish things were different. ❞  At least there was some relief in knowing that if he was unable to lie to Val for her own good, then all which left his lips could only be TRUTHFUL.       ❝   I messed up. ❞  The truth, however, ripped open the stitches that kept old wounds from tearing Robert into pieces.        ❝   Messed up big time. ❞   But wasn’t this love to some extent?       ❝   Doesn’t mean you have to make the same mistakes I did.   ❞  Ripping himself open in front of Val, willingly exposing all of his guts and gore ?       ❝   I don’t want you to stay here for too long, Val. ❞  Hoping she would, somehow, NOT look away?    ❝   You stick around for too long and you’ll remember why, sometimes, it’s better not having a home. ❞