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the back of his neck, as if he were already exhausted of this conversation. "Your mother and I...we met in college. She was on her way to becoming a doctor, and I was majoring in business at the time. Through the time that we dated, she seemed like the perfect woman to me. She was beautiful, and sweet, and thoughtful. I couldn't find one flaw - not that I ever searched for one. We were in love with the idea of a fairytale relationship. I proposed to your mother after three years of being together, and everything was great.

"But there was something Ginger was hiding from me - something that I never expected. After we got married and settled in, we were a typical husband and wife, arguing about stupid things and hopeful about the future. It was after she got pregnant with Ben that things got...strange. If I stayed out longer than usual, to go out with friends or celebrate a good day, she would get angry at me. I thought that at first it was just something that would pass, that she was stressing out because of the pregnancy. I stayed home more often then not and tried not to upset her too much. But one night I was home late because of a birthday party they threw for a coworker at the office. Ginger started to lecture me, and she told me things like "this isn't you," and "I can't believe you're so irresponsible." I couldn't believe my ears. After that, every time I went out to watch a game with the boys or stayed out longer than usual, she would get angry at me. I didn't want to argue, so I stopped going out. I came home on time, and most times I would just watch games at home. 

"For years it went on like this. I was eventually just like a trained dog - I wasn't sociable at all, and all get togethers were stressful for me. After you were born, I saw myself in you. I loved knowing that we could share likes and dislikes and that we could look at each other and just smile because we knew what we were thinking, but then I realized that Ginger noticed your likeness too. She looked at you like she looked at me sometimes, as you got older. When you would act out, she would give you the same lecture that she gave me. It sickened me, but it was also like looking into a mirror and seeing things in way you didn't before. I wanted to take you and run, but I knew that was no good - I also knew that I couldn't just rip you two away from your mother, as she didn't deserve that kind of treatment." He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, running a hand through his hair. "I never wanted to tell you or your brother about this - I thought that I could just let you two love your mother without this standing in the way. I love your mother, I do, but this controlling side of her always stood in front of that like a film in front of my eyes that I couldn't push out of the way - I couldn't look your mother in the eye after realizing that I was being manipulated in such a way. 

"I met Maria on the way to work on a busy Monday morning. She ran into me while carrying coffee, and spilled it all over me. It was scalding hot," He paused to laugh as his eyes softened just a bit, "I was a little annoyed, but I tried not to get snappy at her. I simply helped her pick the cups up, and assured her that I was fine - even though my chest was throbbing. But do you know what she said to me? She looked me straight in the eye and said, "No, you're not. I can see you wincing. If you're angry just say so, otherwise no one will ever respect you."," He let out a soft snort, "At the time it was like a light bulb went on in my head. I felt like all of the chains that had weighed down my back had suddenly fallen off, and I actually thanked her. I'm sure she thought I was crazy."

He focused on Libia and noticed that she wasn't looking at him, but she was staring out at the park with slightly furrowed eyebrows. He realized he'd said too much, and cleared his throat. She was obviously still hurt that he left, and he knew that no matter what her mother did to him, she still felt betrayed - and maybe she always would.

"Libia," he murmured, eyes cast down to the table, "I don't expect you to forgive me. Believe me, there is nothing I want more than your forgiveness, but I know that's impossible. So at least do this for me - Don't let your mother dictate your life like she did mine. What she said to you isn't true as long as you believe it isn't. Neither me nor your mother can tell you how to live your life."

She looked back at him, still trying to process what he was saying. It made sense, and yet, it was like she was rejecting the words. Even as she remembered all of the times she'd stopped doing something simply because her mother had told her that it wasn't like her, she wanted to refute him. She wanted to defend her mother so badly, to say that he was lying, but she only sat with her mouth closed and her eyes glassy. She couldn't say a word. 

Damon watched her face, and he knew she was struggling. She was putting the pieces together in her mind, and with each click of the puzzle, it crushed her even more. She was being hurt by both parents, almost simultaneously. He reached over and slipped his hand into hers, and she immediately returned his grip with her own, tightly as if he were her only tie to the world, and if she let go, she'd be thrust from the earth. 

"I-I," She tried to speak, but there was a lump in her throat. She didn't know why she wanted to cry. She just suddenly felt ill, and anxious, and hurt all at the same time. She swallowed thickly, and tried again, "I need some...some time to think about this."

Her father nodded in understanding, and stood up from his seat. "I'll go back to the cafe."

Damon wondered if he should go as well, but Libia kept a tight hold on his hand, and he knew the answer. 

When he was a ways away, Damon pried his hand from hers with a gentle grip and pulled her into his lap, letting her curl up there. She didn't cry, nor did she speak, not for a long time. She only listened to the peaceful sound of the birds overhead and the occasional chatter of a family passing by on the path not far from where they sat. Damon didn't speak either, he simply let her think and kept his arms secure.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Libia asked, "Do you believe him?"

He ran his hand through the strands of her hair, and murmured, "I don't know, but I really think what you're asking is - do you?"

Her eyes filled and a tear streaked down her cheek. 

"Yeah, I do."

 

Ben sat across from Maria, and surprisingly, he was having a conversation that didn't happen to be awkward at all. He was relaxed, even when the Libia-Mini-Me came crawling up in his lap and sat quietly, coloring in a picture of a deer. 

"She's really smart, isn't she?" Ben asked, looking up at the woman.

Maria laughed in response, and nodded.  "She always has been. Her babysitter told me that she figured out how to tell time on her watch simply so she could know what time we would get home - so she could anticipate our arrival."

Laughing, Ben shook his head. That was something Libia would do. He watched her color in the lines of the deer perfectly, although she was doing it with a yellow crayon, signifying that while she was exceptionally smart, she was also imaginitive - still a child at heart.

"Her father always said that she reminded him of his daughter, Libia. I must say, just seeing her, I can see why. She has her father's head. I can see it in her eyes - she's as stubborn, and clear-thinking as he is."

Ben let out a soft laugh. She always had been. She thought things through, and always weighed the options before making a decision. Which was why it shocked him to see her with Damon. He didn't see her weighing options or thinking things through with him - he saw her utter trust and blind love that seemed to come out of no where. She didn't have time to weigh options, because Damon swooped in unnanounced and crashed through her carefully constructed walls. She didn't have time to prepare, for there was no decision to be made. 

She was utterly in love, and Ben didn't know how to handle the person that emotion brought about in Libia.

"You might want to be careful with this one," He murmured to her with a soft laugh, "If she's anything like Libia, she'll fight to the ends of the earth to keep something she's passionate about."

Laughing, Maria nodded in agreement.

 

Libia watched Damon's face, as he stared ahead, lost in thought. They hadn't moved from their postion, and Libia wondered if he was getting uncomfortable, with no place to rest his back. She didn't want to move, though, as she liked this view. He hadn't shaved in a while, she could see by the way his stubble was a little rougher than usual. His blond hair was a mess from the chilling wind, and his cheeks were slightly pink as well. He was holding her close to him, one arm wrapped around her shoulders, and the other draped over her legs, holding her waist loosely.

Her mind still reeled from the information she received, but she had calmed some, with his comforting presence. 

She reached up with one hand and touched his cheek, and he looked down with a blink.

"Hm?" He murmured.

She smiled, although it was small and frail. She lifted her other hand and ran it through his hair, untangling it some.

"What should I do?" She whispered, her fingertips splaying over his cheek.

His eyes softened, and he tightened his hold on her shoulders, reaching up to run his fingers along her hair. "Well you could always just rebel completely and live a life as a delinquent like me. Running the streets, drinking beer, you know."

She let out a laugh, "But where would that leave you? Obviously my father would blame you for my "delinquency" and that shish kabob theory could become reality."

He grinned with a wince. "Owch."

smiling, Libia leaned her head against his chest. "Thank you, Damon."

"Anytime, Baby," He murmured, his hand settling on her neck.

 

***

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Em. <3