INNOCENT (Gabe's Trials)

Epilogue

Appearently, I was wrong. Lila wasn't waiting for me in my office, but my father was -and by the look on his face we were about to have a looong talk I didn't have the time for. Gabriel's plane was scheduled to take off in two hours -at least that's what Mathew had said in his text- and I really had to get to the airport before that.

Lewis Groves -AKA dad- was wearing a pinstriped, grey suit, a navy blue shirt and black tie, his grey hair perfectly styled. Standing up from the chair he'd occupied -he was completely against me having a sofa in my office- my father gave me a harsh look.

"A murderer, Julia?" He asked, but it wasn't really a question. It was more of an accusation brought to me. Anyway, judging by his tone, the look on his face and his stance, I was in some deep shit over here. "I'm sure I taught you better than that." Knowing that sooner or later I had to say something to my father, I sighed deeply and started to get rid of the heavy, black robe I had to wear as a judge.

"He's not a murderer, dad. He was found innocent." My father huffed and I knew exactly what he was about to say next.

"Being convicted as a murderer is more than enough, Julia. I don't care if he was found innocent. You're not going to see that man again." You see, my father had this unccany ability of making me feel like the ten year old I wasn't anymore. "I want you to give me your word that you're not gonna see him again, Julia. At least not as long as I shall live." Promising him that I wouldn't see Gabriel anymore would've been verry easy, since my murderer was leaving for Italy, without anybody knowing when he might come back, but something deep inside me didn't allow those words to leave my lips.

"I can't promise you that, father." His eyes widened, his chest expanding and I knew that he was about to give me a hell of a lecture, so I hurried to talk first. "Father, I'm a grown woman, dammit. I can see whoever I want to see and face the consequences of that fact. How the hell am I supposed to learn from my mistakes if you won't let me make any?" It was the first time I dared curse in front of my father, but things had to come to an end at some point and I had a feeling that talking nicely and keeping my head bowed to him wouldn't have helped. 

My dad took a few steps around the room and ran his hands through his hair a couple of times, not making a sound the whole time. I wanted to yell at him. Make him say something. I hated the silence that was currently surrounding us. It made me realise just how much I'd disappointed him.

"Is it my fault? Are you trying to get back at me for something?" My teeth captured my lower lip and I shook my head. It had nothing to do with any kind of revenge.

"No. I'm just trying to be happy. He makes me happy." And he actually did make me happy. That was when he didn't try to make me a protege, lie to me, or sleep with his wife behind my back. Ok, so we were going through a rough patch. And the fact that he was boarding a plane to Italy this evening was probably not going to help, but that's just how things were. My father gave me another worried look.

"How can you say a murderer makes you happy?" I really couldn't explain that. Not even to me. I knew that he was supposed to make me feel anything but happiness. "Have you spoken to Doctor Cohen, sweety? All this time, I thought that you were alright. That your mother's departure hadn't affected you, but maybe..." For God's sake! My father trying to imply that I was crazy was just too much to bear, so I errupted.

"God, dad, shut up! I'm not seing Gabriel because -as you may think- I'm broken. And I'm not broken because of a mother I barely remember. You did everything right. You gave me an education and helped me every single time I needed it. You were there for me when I couldn't sleep at night and fixed me the best damn pancakes in the world. But you can't imply I'm crazy and ask me not to see the man I love. That, I won't allow. I'm not 10 anymore." The man you love? Do you even hear yourself? Great. Now I also had my conscience judging me. Because my father's judgement was really not enough.