Some years ago, I had a falling out with my dad. At the time, he was living in Las Vegas with my uncle and they were both being swindled to the tune of thousands of dollars by a woman they believed was helping them. My siblings and I attempted to extricate them from a bad situation, but they refused to listen to us, and things got worse.
The moment of truth came for me while I was on the phone with my dad, trying to sort out what was happening to his money. I couldn’t seem to get a straight answer. In the midst of my questions, he finally told me to stay out of his business and that Angela was helping them. I remember staring at the phone in my hand, slack jawed and incredulous. I felt like I was 10 years old again. Calmly I said, “Ok, I’m out of it. Don’t ask me for anymore help,” and hung up the phone. I was so angry I cried. Part of me could not believe that my dad trusted a woman he barely knew more than he trusted his own son, but another part of me could.