"I am so proud of you, Amy."

You couldn't be more stunned if he slapped you. Strike that, you half expected him to slap you, you never expected in a million years for him to tell you he was proud of you and call you by your REAL name to boot. You look over to Wanda, but she is plainly puzzled as well. She had a solid plan if things got ugly, but she clearly doesn't have as much experience with proud parents. You both sit, stunned speechless.

"I'm sorry, Amy." Your father continues, "This shouldn't come as a shock to you that I'm proud of you...that I love you. That I only want what's best for you. I...I have a lot to learn about sharing my feelings. I'm ashamed to admit it, but that was something I relied on your mother for. When she pass...when she died, I closed myself off. It's like I could feel everything so keenly, and it just wouldn't stop. It...it scared me. I wasn't there for you when you needed me most. Then with the outbreak, I was scared for you...how the world would treat you. I didn't want you to get hurt." Tears are streaming down your father's face and, you realize as they cascade off your chin, yours as well.

"But...I was hurt! I was hurt all the time! I was so scared of who I was going to turn into, and now I see it's just me turned inside out! If you really wanted what was best for me, why couldn't you just say so?!" You spit the words out with a venom that surprises everyone, including yourself. Years of suppressed rage come erupting out like licks of lava. You know you should be happy that your dad is being so supportive, but in the moment, all you feel is molten malice that it took him so long.

"I...I deserve that. I tried to impart a sense of responsibility in you, and I failed horribly in my own duties. When you turned 18 and were still so scared to come out of your room...to come out to me, I finally accepted that responsibility. I reached out to the Samantha Jenkins Center and they gave me so tips on how to best broach the subject, but then I got scared off again and came up with this plan to hire a bimboi babysitter and let nature take it's course. I took the cowardly route and hired someone else to do my job, just like I did when I left your mom in charge of the emotional stuff. I...I do want to do better. I promise to be honest from now on and support you the best I can, but I understand if it's too late for you." Your father has fallen to his knees by the time he's finished. He is hunched over and you can see the pain and terror and regret and love etched on his face.

You have never seen your dad so ****. Hell, you've never seen him **** at all. It's strange, you've looked up to him all your life, considered him a giant, impervious to all harm, and capable of anything. How ironic that in seeing him on his knees, almost mortally wounded and wailing, you finally can relate to him, you finally feel like he's your father, and you're finally proud of him. You join him on the floor and throw your arms around his neck and both of you empty out years of pent up emotions in wrenching sobs.

You hold on tight and your dad pulls you closer as you both let your hearts spill out like an ocean of tears. You realize that you take after your father more than you ever knew. You both have hearts too big for your chest, even with the added room you just gained. You can't keep them closed off anymore, even if it can get a little sloppy when they spill out.

You are feeling this whirl of conflicting emotions that are somehow all true and valid at the same time. Anger at your father for being so closed off and cold and anger at yourself for following his lead. Sadness for all you've lost and joy for all that lies ahead of you. You feel competing surges of shame and pride both for your own failures and how you finally faced them, and with your dad's delayed progress as well. You feel terror and triumph, hatred and humor, forgiveness and fear. At the end of your emotional rollercoaster, you allow yourself to feel the most treacherous trap of all...hope.

You finally break your embrace to look your dad in the eye and lay it out for him, "Look, we both obviously have a long ways to go. I'm willing to give you a shot if you keep trying. But I have to protect myself. I can't go around with my heart hanging open if you are going to freeze me out. And I won't take presents in lieu of your presence any more. Though...I do need a new wardrobe if you want to make a magnanimous gesture. Oh...and no more fucking my girlfriends before I get a chance to, even if you did pay for them!" Your dad blushes at the last rebuke and Wanda laughs out loud, wiping her own tears away just too slowly to hide them from you. She shrugs and blushes too, beaming as she watches a scene she's surely wished for herself in the past.

Your dad dries his tears and holds a hand up as if making a pledge, "Amy, I promise to keep trying to be the father you deserve and to support you in your efforts to keep growing yourself. I promise to admit my mistakes from now on, and to try to keep making the same ones. I will get you a wardrobe that rivals one of those instaglam influenzers or whatever they're called. And..." he blushes brightly and struggles to hold your gaze, "I promise not to sleep with any of your friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, or in anyway ruin your romances." You wrap your arms around your daddy's neck and it's a good thing he's such a giant or you'd snap his neck from squeezing so tight.

The future is looking bright. You have so many possibilities and pitfalls ahead. There's only one thing you know for sure...this isn't some fairy tale ending, but it's one hell of...