I felt obliged to spend a weekend with him; obliged by the hope of having the stable, caring, and nourishing relationship we used to have years ago, when my siblings and I were still a priority in his life. The idea of introducing his mistress to us was probably consuming his mind and on that night, he exploded.

It was my freshman year and my father came to pick me up from a party. Unintentionally, I made him wait as it took me a few minutes to leave the party and walk to the car. Rage and fury came out of the veins that popped out of his forehead. I was frightened by his reaction and he took advantage of the situation. He told me that the next day I would meet his “girlfriend,” as he called her, with or without my consent. He was desperate to force that woman into my life; he neglected my pleas about reconsidering. He had already appealed to blackmailing techniques using money, gifts, or “rewards”. However, none of those was strong enough to make me succumb my own values, so he tried by creating fear in my mind.

We arrived at his house and he went to sleep, convinced he was victorious. I went to the bedroom and meditated over what I should do. Was I supposed to give up my beliefs? Who I was, due to the fear he elicited in me?

That moment I remembered a phrase from my mother. “The decisions we make define who we are”. Meeting her would´ve meant a betrayal to the concept I have of family. It would´ve supported the decision of leaving everything behind for a temptation. I couldn´t support something I still don´t believe is right, for that would´ve defined me wrongly.

Once my dad had fallen asleep I stealthily escaped his house and headed towards my grandmother’s place, which was only a couple of blocks away. It was 2:00am and the fog of the night in the streets of Quito coalesced with my thoughts. I acknowledged each step I gave as an act of defiance against my father´s desire. The sidewalk´s steep descent hastened my walk. When I arrived at my grandmother´s apartment I thought I had reached a haven, but the guard told me that she wasn’t there. My mom wasn’t in town either and my sister was at a friend’s farm. I had no one to call except for a taxi. My cell phone´s battery died during the call so I had nothing to do but hope that the cab heard where I was and wait next to the guard´s stand. My fingers trembled. I was frightened. I was insecure.

An hour later, I was lying in my bed at home, staring at the ceiling, reflecting on whether my decision to leave had been too drastic and careless. But memories came into my mind. I remembered the moment I found out that my father had left our family, our home, and me, for that woman. Evidence from pictures, witnesses, and emails confirmed what my father would never admit: she was the reason he abandoned us.

Over the six years I’ve known this, the conception I had of my father as my idol has been shattered. I’m grateful for escaping on that foggy night, for I knew I would’ve never been happy meeting that woman and his ceaseless desire to accomplish that goal would´ve completely destroyed our relationship.

There´s no point in stagnating in resentment. All I can try to do is remember him for all those great years we spent together. I´ve accepted the idea that one´s happiness shouldn´t depend on others, but on oneself.

The fog that wandered through my mind for years is fading into the past, for each day that passes I feel more confident about my decision. What was once darkness is now dawn.