Clever Subterfuge

Oblivion

"You may have won this battle, heck you may have won all of them and continue to win them. Yet I have already won the war."

Careful not to move her position too quickly, too often, she managed to enter with as little unnecessary movement as possible. The recovery included keeping the large white bandage over her incision and keeping as still as possible to prevent dizziness. The fact that no one came to visit meant that there was no one to offer her a way back home. Of course she was prepared for such a situation and so all that had to be done was a taxi to come at a preset time and pretend someone else had sent for it.

She had been sitting inside that taxicab, the gleaming lights from downtown slowly fading away and the more residential areas gleamed more faintly in comparison. Dreading the moment the vehicle paused indefinitely for her and it reminded her of the instant where reality settled like a fresh layer of dust.

He sat in a tattered red leather recliner near the foyer and had spoken through some hazy lethargy. Thick fingers coiled tightly around an old coffee mug and he sipped after his welcoming spout. It was rather funny how he managed to tell her presence when she had tried so hard to silently enter the residence, all she could really do was drop the house keys on the entrance table and lock the door behind her.

Subconsciously, she paced cautiously towards the seated figure and wrapped her red coat more tightly around her petite figure.

"I have no idea what you are speaking about now, Father," her eyes dropped as she attempted to escape from his attention.

"The argument we had before you left, what you thought I'd forget?" He set the coffee mug on the floor and twisted his face to gaze upon her with a practiced poker expression. "Like I said before, you may win all of the battles but I have won the war. Do you want to know how?"

She really didn't, but that was another thing she had learned as she grew up and that was to never interrupt someone who knows how to break you.

"Let me start with a question then," he paused to lift the coffee mug from the floor for another sip, "do you believe in love my darling Fiamma?"

The question had never been asked before, it had stunned her momentarily and she grew afraid that the heavy walls she built would crumble for a second. It was dark in the room and the moonlight had a way with taunting her with a false sense of security. The moon confused her, while many saw a rabbit she saw tantalizing laughter. A constant reminder that good things never last and when things are going through a rough patch, it sits there, laughing while mentioning another "I told you so."

"No, I don't. How does this matter?" She remained standing, unwilling to sit and appear to enjoy the situation.

"Typical of someone of your caliber, someone that is nothing better than a crumbled statue. Honestly, how does someone turn down Harvard, go to a state university and still be incapable of staying there?" Heaving a sigh, he rubbed his face, as if spitting words this casually was an exhausting task.

"I used to brag about you, and you let everyone down. I guess my expectations were too high for you, setting you up for failure or giving you more room to prove the disappointment that revolves around you-"

"Stop, please."

"Who are you to be giving me orders? You're the one that started this debate-"

"What debate?" She answered incredulously, her eyes round like saucers. Hot tears threatening to spill, it angered her that she reacted this way to anger, and it was an awful cycle.

"You know, the first one that breaks emotion is the one that loses the debate," he mentioned quietly, under his breath.

"This debate originated approximately a week ago, then when we started this nonsense idea of a debate don't you think you lost the debate first? The moment you stood from your seat and slammed your fists onto the table and looked at me with a hatred I prayed I'd never see."

"Which brings me back to my main point," he smiled beguilingly under his coffee mug, "I may lose the battles but I have won the war. Think about it," he stood with coffee mug in hand and approached the arch leading to the library. The words he meant to use to finish were lost as he moved into the next room and she remained standing behind the sofa, hands clenching the cushion, as if the grasp would remove the painful squeeze in her heart.

Someone who is meant to love you unconditionally has the capacity to look at you like that. How can you ever expect anyone else to look at you differently?

This is how he won the war, once you take and condition the mind of your opponent, there is nothing left to fight with.