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When I get to my room in the evening, I have multiple things running through my head. Nothing new there, since there is hardly ever a time when my mind doesn't have at least thirty three things going through it. I'm sure if anyone knew all the things I think, they would put me in a straightjacket and lock me up in an asylum somewhere.

Today, though, I'm mostly thinking about everything my dad said to me.

I know I'm a very lucky girl to have a father as loving and supportive as him and seeing how much he likes Xavier, it only makes me appreciate him even more. Just thinking about my dad not liking the boy I like, makes my knees weak and my hands clammy. If I had a dad like Xavier's ...

The first thing I do when I get in bed is switching on my laptop, turning on random back-to-back of my favorite YouTube channel, and reach for my phone. An automatic smile comes to rest on my face when I see Xavier's name on my screen.

He sent me messages? And not just one, but multiple?

This is a new level of our relationship!

With the creepiest smile plastered on my face, I click the messages and read.

10:28 -- Xavier: 'Hope everything's okay.'

11:03 -- Xavier: 'Did your dad find out?'

12:13 -- Xavier: 'I'm worried.'

1:09 -- Xavier: 'Do you need me to come over.'

3:17 -- Xavier: 'Haley?'

5:21 -- Xavier: 'I'm coming over if you don't reply by tonight.'

I'm smiling so wide my cheeks are hurting, and just the thought of Xavier checking his phone every few minutes and sending me messages because he's worried about me, makes me feel like the luckiest girl alive.

No, it does not make butterflies erupt in my stomach. What does that even mean?

I contemplate, wondering if I should reply back or not. I don't want him to keep thinking about me, but ... okay, I do want him to keep thinking about me. I don't want him to worry about me though, even if that means he might show up at my door, asking for me. Putting my inner psychopathic ideas away, I type a message.

6:12 -- Haley: 'I'm great, but if you want to come over, I'll leave my window open.'

Biting my lower lip, I let my finger hover over the 'send' button. Does that seem too desperate? Does it maybe seem like a slutty thing to suggest 'hey, why don't you come over tonight so that we can *clears throat and winks*?' What if Xavier thinks I'm some creepy weirdo?

Oh, wait ... he already knows what a creepy weirdo I am and still decides to stick around.

Comforted by the fact that Xavier knows what a mess I am but still likes me for some unimaginable reason -- maybe it's my dad -- I send the message, holding both my phone and my breath. I know Xavier might not reply instantly, being busy in his own life too, but I hope he'll see it soon and relax a little.

I nearly jump and scream at the same time when my phone pings and I toss it dramatically into the air. This is nothing but a response of the mini-heart-attack I get, and I catch the phone before it falls. Fumbling, I see it's Xavier.

Holy ducklings! He was waiting for my text.

6:13 -- Xavier: 'No need to leave the window open. I'll call you when I get there.'

I squeal, acting like an overly excited teen. I know I'm an overly excited teen, but for once I'm actually acting my age rather than an abnormally large five-year-old.

6:14 -- Haley: 'You'll come?' I ask Xavier hurriedly.

6:14 -- Xavier: 'If you want me to.'

YES!

Of course, I want him to. Who wouldn't?

6:15 -- Haley: 'Yes. But use the door this time. My dad said he won't allow me to risk breaking your legs by making you climb up and down my window.'

There is a slight pause, and I'm not even listening to the music playing in my headphones anymore, my mind completely occupied by the raven-haired boy who has somehow become so important to me.

6:17 -- Xavier: 'Should I feel awkward?'

Smiling, I type a response.

6:18 -- Haley: 'Do you?'

6:18 -- Xavier: 'Yes?'

I burst out laughing.

6:18 -- Haley: 'Good. Me too.'

6:19 -- Xavier: '*Phew*'

Laughing, I decide to do something crazy. The idea comes to my mind out of the blue, and without thinking about it, I put my plan into motion, quickly dialing Xavier's number and putting the phone to my ear. A part of me wants to hear his voice, maybe the hint of amusement in his gentle tone.

He doesn't answer, though, and my smile fades a little.

6:22 -- Haley: 'Do you not want to talk to me?'

His reply comes at the same time as my message sends.

6:22 -- Xavier: 'I'm at work.'

That makes sense, but he also adds another message to clarify my accusation.

6:22 -- Xavier: 'Of course, I do. I'll call you as soon as I get free. Okay?'

My smile returns and I send him the okay, not forgetting to add a smiling emoticon after it.

6:23 -- Xavier: 'X.'

The single 'X' reminds of the first message he ever sent me, the one where he asked me to turn around when he said he was taking me to his secret hiding spot, from where he looked at a girl he likes. To think how much things have changed now.

6:24 -- Haley: 'Your initial?'

6:24 -- Xavier: 'A hug.'

Even though I'm pretty sure an 'x' is a kiss and not a hug, I don't point that out when Xavier is being so sweet and romantic. I mean, come on, if he says it's a hug it's a hug. I'll just imagine a kiss as a bonus.

My life feels perfect, everything falling into perfect place. And I can't stop smiling even when I go downstairs to help dad make dinner, and then have it with him before cleaning up the table and returning to my room around 9:00.

I still haven't gotten any message from Xavier, and I don't think too much about that. He's at work, and he promised to call me when he's free. I trust him, knowing he has never let me down before. Thinking about it now, I realize that the only person who has ever let me down is my own mom.

That gets me thinking about what dad said. One of the things dad didn't mention was her affair with that professor at her college, which she had joined when I was in preschool. I can still remember when I had overheard her talking to someone on the phone and tell them she would soon leave her husband. At that time, I was too young to understand who the man was, to whom my mother said 'I love you too, George'.

Things had finally made sense years after she had left dad and I, and called to talk to me about it. I can almost hear what she had said to me.

'Honey, I have this beautiful new house, and I want you to come live with me,' she had said to me over the phone. 'George would love to have you around.'

'George?' I had repeated, and even though I was only twelve, I could make sense of many things.

'Yeah. He's ... he's my husband. And your new father.'

'Okay, mom ...' I had stopped her there. 'I don't need a new father. I love my old one. And my old house. And life. Goodbye.'

She had said some things I had not waited long enough to hear, and when I looked at my dad, I could see the sadness in his eyes. Despite the pain I could tell he was in, he had smiled and taken my hand in his.

'Haley, darling,' he had said softly. 'I want you to know that no matter what decision you make and where you decide to live, you will always be my daughter.'

I had nodded and thrown my arms around his neck, closing my eyes to fight back the tears. He had done the same as he wrapped me in his arms and held me close. That hug was my way of telling him I would never leave him for anything or anyone, and we both knew that.

Now, I take my phone in my hand and dial mom's number. This is the first time I am calling her. It has always been her who tries to get in touch, and I have never reciprocated her attempts. Today, though, I feel like I need to do this.

She answers. "Is everything okay, Haley?" her surprised voice asks me.

"Everything great," I answer her calmly, not allowing any emotion to seep into my voice. This is not the time to be angry. This is the time to be a grown-up. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Yes?" Mom sounds uncertain, unsure of what to expect from me.

I hesitate, trying to convert my thoughts into words without letting my feelings interfere.

"I wanted to say ... that I understand you," I finally confess.

There is a long silence, and mom doesn't say anything.

"I don't ... approve of what you did," I go on. "You cheated on dad. You left him because you wanted a life different from the one he could provide. That's ... I get it. I get it. I understand and ... I don't approve, or condone ... what you did. You blamed him. You put it all on his shoulders, letting him take the blame of ... I'm not accusing you. I'm not ... angry. Tonight, I'm not angry."

I inhale deeply through my nose, trying to remain calm.

"I have hated you all my life," I tell her. "I have hated you for what you did to dad and because you left me. You were selfish, and the one who ever mattered to you was yourself. George ... even him you married for yourself. I don't blame him. I never did. I blamed you. I hated you. I was angry at you, and I never wanted to be like you."

I hear a shaky sob on the other side of the phone.

"But tonight ... I don't hate you," I confess. "I'm not angry at you, and I don't blame you. Mom ... I forgive you."

My voice breaks at the end, and my eyes sting. On the other end, my mom is having a full-blown crying fit, sobbing into the phone speaker.

"Haley, I'm so sorry, my baby," she's saying. "I'm so sorry for everything. Everything I did to you or your father. He's a wonderful man, I know. I was --"

"Please, mom, don't," I interrupt, my voice soft but firm. "I'm sorry, I know you want to tell me but I don't want to hear it. I forgive you but ... that doesn't mean I'm going to give you a second chance. Dad always says respect is more important than love, and ... I want to respect you, even if I can't love you. I don't. I don't love you. But I forgive you, and I'll ... try to respect you. Not for you, and not for myself, but for dad. I forgive you, because he has forgiven you. And if he can do that ... so can I."

No intelligible words leave my mom's lips, as she continues to whimper and cry. My own breathing comes heavy, but my heart feels so much lighter.

'Forgiveness is freedom,' my dad once told me, and this is something I finally understand at this point. I understand how forgiving someone who wronged us, sets us free from the burden, the burden of hatred, and animosity, and grudge. It sets us free form what we are holding inside, the poison that spreads and threatens our own well-being.

So even when I hang up on mom, I sit in bed for a long time, feeling like a bigger person. I might not be the perfect daughter. I am not a daughter that I should be. But I am a real person, and this is real life. Things can never be perfect, but sometimes they are redeemable, even if not always fixable.

My mind oscillates between mom and Xavier the entire night, and I fall asleep with the phone in my hand, expecting Xavier to live up to his words and call me back as soon as he gets free from work.

I trust him to fulfill his promise. I trust him with everything.

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