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God and the demon that lived inside of him. He was a worse drunk than Bobby… and beat him every day.”
    He shook his head as he fumbled with his pen. The look on his face gave away that he felt sort of sorry for my father.
    “I think that’s why she stood with him all of these years. She wanted to protect him at all costs. She knew there was a nice guy somewhere deep down inside his tortured soul. She just rarely saw that part of him, but when he did show her he loved her, she was the only person he cared about in
    the world, and that’s how he got her. That’s how…he manipulated her.” He looked up at me, studying me closely with his eyes and waiting for the next question to spew out of my mouth.
    “I wish I would’ve known this about my father. It would have saved me years of hating his guts,” I said, shocked as I lowered my head in thought staring at my hands that were clenched together
    on my lap. I felt so guilty that I hated him so much. I wanted to forgive him, but my heart didn’t let me.
    “You know, Jenesis, your father did love her, somewhere, deep down inside,” he said sympathetically.
    “Yeah, well, it must’ve been really deep. If he did, he sure had a funny way of showing it.” I looked up at him ready to let go of the lump in my throat and burst into tears.
    “Did he…ever…you know?” he asked curiously.
    “Hit me? No…and yes…he never hit me…I mean, only a couple of times…but he killed me inside…beating her every day in front of me. You know, I can’t remember a day he didn’t hit her.
    I have nightmares every night…sometimes even during the day,” I said letting go of the lump and sobbing into my hands. Uncle Mike stood up and walked towards me.
    “Jenesis, come here,” he said as he held me around my shoulders and placed his chin on the top of my head.
    I held him tightly and squeezed him around his waist. Then I stood up reaching for his collar and pulled tightly because I wanted to scream and lose my mind.
    “Look, we can go over the policy tomorrow, if you’d like?” he whispered in my hair then sat me down on the kitchen chair. He kneeled in front of me, lifting my chin to face him.
    “No, I’m fine. Really… Let’s just get this over with.” I wiped my tears with the back of my hand. Uncle Mike reached for a paper towel and ran it under cold water.
    “Here, clean your face,” he said as he handed me the soaked paper towel. 
    I wiped my cheeks that were buried under the mascara from last night that ran down my face from crying so much. My stomach was twisting and turning, and I got up abruptly to walk around.
    I was wondering how Uncle Mike got the insurance policy. I thought I was the only person who knew where she kept her important papers. I wasn’t sure if she left it in the same place as when I
    was a little girl. They were there for years in the same place. She had always told me when I was a little girl, “Jenesis, in the garage behind your father’s tool cabinet, is a tin box that has a
    combination lock on it. If something were to ever happen to me, all of the paperwork to the house, insurance policies, and other important papers are in there. You have to memorize the numbers or
    hide them in your room where nobody can find them. Now, show Mommy where it is. Hurry.” Then I would take her hand and show her, she would give me a hug, and say, “Good girl, that’s
    my girl.” I still remember where I had hidden the numbers. They were in my purple pillowcase on my bed. 
    “Uncle Mike, how did you know where to find the papers?” My question seemed more like an interrogation, but I didn’t care. I needed to know how he knew. 
    “You and I were the only two people she told.” He smiled as if he remembered her face.
    “Really? And here I thought I was special. Why you?”
    “You are special. We were very close, your mother and I. Many times your mother went to church on Sundays and then we met at my house to talk. I knew everything