Bruised

24.

When Natalie stepped through the front door, her dad was already stood in the middle of the living room, dressed in his pyjamas. He looked tired, with bags lining his under eyes and wrinkles carved into his forehead.

Like that, he looked older. Natalie almost felt sorry for him.

But then she remembered why he was waiting for her, and the anger returned.

He looked up at the sound of the front door and Natalie shut it awkwardly behind her, her face turning hot.

"Hi," she muttered.

"Natalie," he said. "I was waiting for you."

"I know," she said. She swallowed hard, trying to get rid of that tight feeling in her throat. The silence that followed was thick with tension, and she decided it was now or never. Sucking in a deep breath, she began. "I know you're mad at me, but I have to tell you. This is my life. It's my future—"

"Natalie—"

"No, Dad. It's my future and I get to decide what I want," she continued, her words quickly becoming a rant. "And I've decided. I decided that I can choose my friends and I can choose my degree, and you'll just have to accept it. I know you want me to be a doctor, but—"

"I don't."

Natalie blinked.

"What?"

"I don't want you to be a doctor," her dad said quickly, before she could interrupt him again. "Or, I do. If that's what you want to do. My point is, I'm sorry."

She blinked again. She didn't think she'd ever heard those two words in her dad's voice before. I'm sorry. She had to be dreaming.

"Natalie," her dad began, stepping around the coffee table to stand in front of her. "I'm sorry. I went about this all the wrong way. When you told me you wanted to be a doctor, I was so proud of you. Not because it was a doctor, but because you were so decisive. You knew what you wanted, and what you wanted was to help people. I felt so proud that I had raised such a selfless daughter."

A lump grew in her throat, and she tried to swallow it down, unable to help the burning in her eyes, the promise of tears.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint."

"No, Natalie, you're not—I'm not saying this properly." He took her hand into his and she suddenly felt very worried that her tears would slip. "I was proud, and I decided I'd do anything to make your dreams come through. Anything. And I took it too far. I was so focused on making sure you achieved your dream of being a doctor that I didn't realise along the way your dreams had changed. And of course, they did. You're still a kid. You're growing. You're learning who you are. And I realised that I never asked."

She blinked hard, trying to fight the tears that threatened to fall as his words processed. Words she'd never expected to hear.

"What is it that you want now?" her dad asked after a long pause.

The words burst out of her.

"Dad—" her voice was choked by the start of tears, and she paused, releasing a long breath— "I don't know what I want. I don't want to do medicine anymore. I'm squeamish. I hate blood and all that stuff. I hate science. It's just not what I imagined. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, Natalie," her dad muttered, stepping forward and taking her into his arms. She felt her tears being to fall freely as her dad held her close, his arms cradling her head as she cried into his chest.

"Don't be sorry," he said, holding her tight. "I'm sorry for making you feel this way, darling. If you don't want to do medicine, that's okay. That's fine."