My dad is trying to reach out to me. He contacted my aunt a few days ago over a Facebook message request. She still sounded shaken up hours later when she called me to tell me. I knew from her voicemail that something was wrong but still she tried to pretend that everything was ok by making small talk about what courses I'm taking this semester. I think that I've been afraid since her first missed call, I was certain that she was calling to tell me that my sick family member had died.

I took the news rather apathetically, as I've learned to be as far as my father is concerned. If I don't care, he can't hurt me. That's how I got over the grief of him leaving the first time. Granted, it took me years to accept it, but I was a child then, still learning the survival strategies that I'd need to get cut my way out of the webs of manipulation.

I never was a fan of spiders. Any bugs, really. I live on my own now, with no younger brother to come kill them for me. Last year there was a huge one in my living room, and that fucker was fast too. I managed to trap it under a glass, but couldn't work up the courage to lift the cup and kill it. I suppose it's a little bit cruel, or maybe just cowardly, but I left it there for weeks. I'd check on it sometimes, hoping that it had died already and I could stop walking around this cup every day. But he was persistent, clinging to life even after I'd trapped him in with what must have been such a confusing and odd barrier for him. Eventually a friend of mine came over, and offered to kill it for me. She lifted the glass and finally put the poor thing out of its misery with a bunched up Kleenex.

According to the screenshot of the Facebook message that my aunt sent to me, my dad is still blaming my mom for "keeping the kids from him." I don't remember much about him, but I do remember that he was never able to admit fault for anything. There's a lot of things that my memory is blocking from me, and I can't ask any of my family for help filling in the blanks. But, I remember how I felt. I know that I was scared to walk to school in my new town, and a part of me still panics every time a car slows down next to me. I know that he lied to me. I know that I felt betrayed by him. I know that he hurt me.

My heart still aches for the younger version of myself who was so confused, and couldn't figure out why their own father couldn't love them. Didn't know why he didn't care enough to figure something out.

I want to forgive him, but I don't even know what he did. I want to have a relationship with him, so then maybe my eyes won't tear up in the grocery store when I hear a father tell his little girl "I love you." He missed so many of my milestones, so many of my accomplishments, and now he wants back in my life? Now that I'm an adult and can sneak around behind my mom's back?

The worst part is, I know that I'm going to do it. I'm still not entirely sure on how I can do it safely, or how I'm going to protect my own mental health. Maybe I'm just setting myself up to hurt again, but I want to try.

Maybe if I care less, it wouldn't hurt so much.

Maybe this time will be different.