That week I slept on the sofa bed
I was too brokenhearted and miserable to sleep in my own room
Dark and devoid of the distraction afforded by television
While I realize now that the tears I shed were wholly wasted
on a man undeserving of my grief
at the time, I sobbed in anguish so loudly
that your fears of being useless
were flooded by the need to do something to comfort me
When you sat on the edge of the pull-out bed,
I asked you
Dad, should I marry him?
If he loves you
was your reply
Not if you love him
but IF HE LOVES YOU
And then you made me a cup of tea
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