*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*
I stepped around the folded red blankets that hung over the tan couch and took a seat across from my father on the other side of room. He sat upright in the tan chair, paging through a copy of Forbes magazine. His eyes didn’t acknowledge my presence. I cleared my throat.
“Hm?” He glanced up and put down the magazine, giving me half of his attention.
I sighed and clasped my hands together in my lap. This was about all I was going to get from him, so I better take it. “I have made my decision. I’m not going to stay here over the summer,” I told him as confidently as I had rehearsed in my head.
His face did not shift moods at all. He let out one long breath and I could barely smell the mint gum in his mouth. His hands moved to the armrests and he looked down.
“So to stay with your friends it is then,” he said monotone.
I nodded and he stood up to walk over to the window.
“It’s not the choice I thought you would make, but I guess I can’t argue with you. You are eighteen. Not eight anymore.”
I crossed my arms and stood up. He had turned his back on me and he was watching the deer in the backyard eat the grass. I could tell he wasn’t happy with me. The way his shoulders were tense and he refused to talk anymore about it.
It had been eighteen years of him controlling my every move. It was about time—even with my mom out of the picture now—to make decisions for myself. I was a legal adult. There was no way he could simply just say “no”. And I wouldn’t let him this time.
“What are you going to do for work?”
“I got a job downtown working for a charity organization. Just answering phones and organizing events,” I told him.
He scoffed. “No corporate?” He finally turned around and his lips curved into a smug smile. It was his secret way of communicating, “You could have done better”. Has all the money you produced made you happy, Dad? Why would it make me happy then? I don’t say what I want to. I piece my words together strategically and open my mouth to speak.
“I decided I want to give back to the community more than anything. Because if I play all my cards right, I could make a difference.” I watched to see his reaction and he didn’t say anything.
His smile faded and he sighed.
“Just like your mother: always trying to do the right thing. Sometimes there has to be a bit of selfish business work, you know.” You would know, I think. He strode over to me and crossed his arm. “It’s life. Either you look out for yourself or you get trampled.”
“I don’t believe that. There has to be another way to live,” I said out loud.
This stunned him. His face is cold and empty, no emotion present. I cannot determine what he is thinking. But he is coming up with something to say. I just know he is.
Before he could respond with anything, my phone started to ring. It’s time.
“Hello?”
“Are you ready?” My friend was on the other end, waiting at the end of the driveway. She hated my dad. She can’t stand to even be in the same room as him. That’s how bad it was.
“Yeah, just let me grab my bag.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you in two minutes.”
“Okay. Bye.” I hung up and looked at my dad. His emotionless face was still focused on me, no movement out of him at all.
“I guess this is it,” he said quietly.
I nodded and felt my throat choke up a little. I held it back and sighed, giving him a short hug. My right hand reached down to grab my bag and I swung it over my shoulder, the remainder of my belongings stashed into the small duffel.
“Good bye,” I mumbled and turned to exit the house. I left my house key on the kitchen counter on my way out, not looking at any of the old pictures of me. I tried to forget the images, the house, the people, and memories; everything that made me want to stay even though I know I shouldn’t. I had to move on.
The front door opened and closed quickly and I shut out the house from my surroundings. A red Jeep was waiting at the end of the road as promised and I made my way down the concrete road until I got to the passenger door.
“You okay?”
I looked to my friend in the driver’s seat and nodded, wiping away a few tears I hadn’t realized had been shed. The wind had numbed my face well enough to hide them trickling down my cheeks.
“Let’s go. I’m fine,” I croaked.
My friend nodded and her brown eyes glanced back to the rear so she can back out of the driveway.
I inhaled, a deep breath calming me down quicker than I expected.
I thought about my dad, probably sitting inside the house watching television. None of this fazed him. Not that much did when I was growing up, but I had expected maybe a little but more of an elicit response to me packing and leaving.
You deserve to be happy. My friend’s words replay in my head as I reason my situation. All of the years of yelling, arguing, and criticizing I put up with have come to an end. It didn’t mean I wouldn’t see him, it just meant not as much. Maybe time away would be good for me. Maybe things would finally look up.
