Lunch with my Dad, Part 2

Dad: Now, I want us to be able to talk about this like adults, and I don't want you to get defensive.
Inner voice: Shields up? Check!
Me: Alright...
Dad: So, why did you get so upset the other night?
Inner voice: Because my mother hates my dog, and you defend her.
Me: Dad, you act like I just flew off the handle for no reason. Mom is the one who started it. I came home after working 10 hours, took the dog out, changed my clothes, and sat down with Mom in the living room. She immediately started in with. "Do you wanna tell me what happened out there (there being the screened-in porch)?" I remained calm, I really did, and just explained to her how I had tested the dog out there two days ago to see if he would be alright, and he was, for two and a half hours. So on Sunday I left him in there for church. When I came home from church he had chewed the top of the door handle. I was about to go into the part where I apologized, because I would never leave the dog out there without some evidence that led me to believe that he could handle it, but before I could say that, she interupted me. Dad, she completely went off, she must've been stewing on it for hours just waiting for me to get home. At that point I realized what she wanted was just to let me have it. So I just shut up, and then she got pissed cause I wouldn't say anything.
Dad: I highly doubt that she "went off" on you.
Me: Well, you weren't there, Dad.
Dad: This is a problem that needs to be dealt with, *Me*. How can we resolve this if we can't talk about it like adults?
Inner Me: Stop saying "like adults"! Until you see me throw a temper tantrum in the middle of this restaurant, please consider me an official adult.
Me: My whole issue is, I don't get why Mom is such a freak about a door knob. I mean, seriously, it doesn't have a heart beat and it sure isn't goin' to heaven with her when she dies. Shouldn't me and my dog be more important to her than her things?
Dad: *Me*, we knew it wasn't going to be easy having you and Shades living with us, but we understood that if you came so did the dog.
Me: Umm...ok.
Inner Me: Not exactly an anwer to my question...
Dad: I think the key is to set goals. Goals to paying off your debt, saving money...
Me: I do have a goal, March 1st, 2008. (Deducing from the look on Dad's face) What? Not soon enough?
Dad: I don't think so...er, but I think it would be better for your self esteem for you to be on your own. Don't you?
Inner me: I think...I think I am gonna lose it. I think you are a liar. I think Mom is making you miserable because the dog is making her miserable. I think Mom completely lacks compassion for living creatures. Until her life gets back to normal, neither will yours. And you will get your life back to normal, even if that means kicking your daughter out. I think you can't even tell yourself the truth behind why you already want me to move out, much less me. I think I won't say any of this out loud.
Me: (stunned and quiet) You're gonna need to give me a date, Dad, a date to move out by.
Dad: (incredulously) I don't have a date.
Me: Well, you sure know what date it isn't. Just tell me what date it is and I will move out.
Inner Me: Don't cry. Don't cry.
Dad: I don't have a date.
Me: (Eyes filling up with tears as I stare into the salad I won't be finishing)
Dad: I...just don't think it's good for your self esteem.
Me: (Tears streaming down my face, still looking at my salad) Ok.
Inner Me: I can't believe you did this to me. You know I have to go back to work now, and I am not the one with an office that I can retreat too. I have a cubicle, which anyone walking by can see into. I can't believe you did this to me...on purpose.
Dad: (paying the check) You're not going to have lunch with me ever again, huh?
Inner Me: Yeah, I wouldn't bet on it.
Me: (putting sunglasses on indoors to hide my punching bag face as I resist the temptation to run, not walk, out of the restaurant)