"we have rules here," he said, "and i expect you to abide by them." "you're full of shit," she retorted, the anger in her voice contradicted by her tiny fingers tugging at her long blond locks. his eyes flared as the obscenity crossed her lips -- the first time she had dared such a thing -- and his hands instinctively balled into fists. "young lady," he told her, 'you may be growing up now --flowering, as they say, into a swan -- but you are still indebted to me for saving you from what would have been a tragically short life on the streets of bangkok as a prostitute." "that was a long time ago," she raged, "and you can't expect me to thank you every day of my life, to keep going on like we have been, to be free of any transitions or changes in the relationship we share, you asshole!" he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, not sure what to do or say next. "we've been heading for a crossroads for a long time now and you and i both know it -- but i guess i'm the only one who has accepted it." "my guardianship over you is still legally binding," he reminded her. "it all goes back to legality for you, doesn't it?" "the arm of the law is an eye that sees all, and our feelings are moot in its stone face," he replied. "you've got a catch phrase for everything, and yet you have so much trouble seeing the obvious." "what's obvious is that you are only 16 years old and you are living under my roof and you should have called me last night when you knew you were going to be so late out with some boy who i've never met and who for all i know is an axe murderer!" "great run-on sentence, dad." he shrugged. "you know," she said, "i used to love calling you dad' but in the last few months i've started to realize that i never needed a father-figure." he looked down at his shoes. "i don't know what you were thinking in the first place -- was this a social experiment, a goodwill gesture, a way to fill up an empty part of your life -- have you ever thought about that?" "i have to admit," he said, "that it was much less pedestrian than all that; what it was really all about was that i couldn't ignore those voices in my head -- the ones that started while i was in the p.o.w. camp and i would look out through the barbed wire fence like a trapped animal, up at the stars where someone -- i knew -- was calling for me, sending me orders, giving me the answers; the voices of jesus and the angels in their glittering silver spaceships, lowering their glowing cosmic ladder to me, like jacob in the desert, to offer me the sweet scrolls of wisdom." "i've heard that story a hundred times and not only has it never made sense but it also fails to mention that i am a fully developed human being, who, it seems, will never get your respect, and i resent that." "your `development' is just what i'm worried about -- all those leering boys only want one thing from you!" "and they'll get it if i want to give it to them -- stop looking at me that way -- and you have to accept that i can make that choice." "allrighty then -- out of my house, you ungrateful harlot!" she shook her head in disbelief. "you heard me -- out!" he roared. "i didn't want it to end this way," she said, softly, "i had hoped we could come to a compromise." "okay, cut!" shouted the director. * * *