Dirtbag
I DO NOT FORGIVE MY ENEMIES; I HAVE HAD THEM ALL SHOT
“Shut it,” he says. “Shut the goddamn door, Jack.”
“What the fuck,” I reply, leaving the door wide open, “is this?”
“Did you hear me? Do what I say, young man.”
“Answer me.”
“Jack!” He reaches around me, slamming the door shut. As if that will help me forget. As if it’s not there.
I hear myself saying, “I can’t believe you.” I don’t feel it, but I hear it.
“This is none of your business.”
“None of my business?” I repeat. “She’s my mom, dad. I think that makes it my business.”
I’ve never done this before—stood up to my father. Something about hearing his future plans with Victoria and seeing my mother’s stuff has set off something inside me. Something that has been brewing my entire life.
“She was your mother. Was.”
I scoff. “Says the man who has her shit hanging in the closet. Are you really that cryptic? Has Victoria seen this?”
He’s silent. Stephen Trenton is standing before me, wordless, with a pained expression on his face.
Finally, he comes up with, “You need to watch who you’re talking to, son.”
“Dad, do you hear yourself?” I shout. “I’m your son. I’m your fucking kid and you have treated me like shit. You treated mom like shit. Yet, you still think you have the right to, what, keep her around?”
“You know nothing about my and your mother’s relationship!” He’s red-faced. I finally stop. It’s quiet.
“I’m going to go.”
“I think that would be best.”
I don’t say what’s running through my head—of course you do—because I will never win.
Never.
“What the fuck,” I reply, leaving the door wide open, “is this?”
“Did you hear me? Do what I say, young man.”
“Answer me.”
“Jack!” He reaches around me, slamming the door shut. As if that will help me forget. As if it’s not there.
I hear myself saying, “I can’t believe you.” I don’t feel it, but I hear it.
“This is none of your business.”
“None of my business?” I repeat. “She’s my mom, dad. I think that makes it my business.”
I’ve never done this before—stood up to my father. Something about hearing his future plans with Victoria and seeing my mother’s stuff has set off something inside me. Something that has been brewing my entire life.
“She was your mother. Was.”
I scoff. “Says the man who has her shit hanging in the closet. Are you really that cryptic? Has Victoria seen this?”
He’s silent. Stephen Trenton is standing before me, wordless, with a pained expression on his face.
Finally, he comes up with, “You need to watch who you’re talking to, son.”
“Dad, do you hear yourself?” I shout. “I’m your son. I’m your fucking kid and you have treated me like shit. You treated mom like shit. Yet, you still think you have the right to, what, keep her around?”
“You know nothing about my and your mother’s relationship!” He’s red-faced. I finally stop. It’s quiet.
“I’m going to go.”
“I think that would be best.”
I don’t say what’s running through my head—of course you do—because I will never win.
Never.
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Sorry it too a while! Although, I'm sure you guys have been just fine:)I do hope everyone is doing well! Give feedback if you would like! I would gladly appreciate it!
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