me, heading right for the door without a single thing to say to his old man before he goes.
“Where are you headed at this hour?” I ask.
Dusk passed a while ago, and the kind of neighborhood we live in isn’t easy on kids his age wandering around alone.
“What do you care?” he snaps in return, choosing not to face me. “Just go have another drink, Dad.”
With my heart beating a solid tempo in my ribcage, I march up to him and wrench his slight frame around by the scruff of his sweatshirt. His body tenses with apprehension, but my child looks at me with the defiant stare of a man. His eyes hold no regret, no fear, and it sets a chill deep in my bones.
An attitude like his will get him killed. He hasn’t learnt how unjust and cruel the world can be to those who believe they’re untouchable. A naïve boy like him will get chewed up and spat out within days.
“Take your shit back to your room,” I order, “and come help me with dinner.”
He shakes his head. “Not this time.”
I release my grip and narrow my gaze. “Excuse me?”
Alice shirks the creases out of his sweatshirt, and stares me down. “Why do you do this to yourself—drink the day away and deny any responsibilities for us? What do you think Mom would do if she could see you? She’d fucking tell you how pathetic you are.” His face grows red with the force of his hate. “You’re a fucking waste of space, and I wish you’d died instead of her.”
My hand lashes out and smacks him square across the jaw. “Don’t you fuckin' speak to me like that again.”
It pains me, knowing I just hit my boy. But I stand my ground. I raised him better than to be so disrespectful.
“That’s what you have?” he spits, throwing his hands in the air. “You think that’ll make me stay? I’m out. I’m out of here.”
“You’re going nowhere,” I shout as he tugs the front door wide. “You’re only a kid, and you’re my responsibility.”
He spins, fists clenched at his side. “I’m only a kid, but I sure as fuck know I’m not your responsibility. I haven’t been for years, Dad. Years!”
“Get the fuck over here, now.” I stab a finger at the ground before me.
“No!” He steps onto the shared path that runs along the front of the apartment complex. “See you later, Dad. Go fucking hang yourself again. This time I won’t bother stopping you.”
“Alice,” I roar as he walks out of our house, out of my life.
He spins on the front path, and screams back at me. “I told you not to fuckin’ call me that anymore!”
My chest aches, and my throat tightens as I watch the last thing I had left to love walk away.
I should have showed that boy I loved him more, but I know the reason why I never did—because I can’t find it in me to love myself. And if I can’t give myself the respect I need to feel confident in my decisions, then how the fuck did I ever expect him to believe in me again?
My feet itch, eager to chase after him, but it’s too little, too late. I’ve ruined any chance I ever had with my son, and going after him now would just add insult to injury. The kid’s better off without me.
Wherever he ends up.
"I'M GOING to have to let you go."
I grimace as the words echo through my head time and time again. The story of my life. Let you go. Isn't that what everyone does in the end? Lets me go? My last drop of whiskey swirls in a neat whirlpool around the inside of the glass in my grasp. I should drink it—down the fucker like the poison it is, but I’m too fucking frugal.
Too fucking broke.
“You gonna nurse that all night?”
I lift my gaze to the hipster behind the bar. After a second or two of deciding where exactly he stands amongst the blur of black and grey, I give him a wry smile and respond.
“You gonna sponsor my next round?”
“Whatever, old man. I’ve got people who’ve got money to spend, so if you ain’t going to drink up, move on.” He continues assembling the required bottles for whatever concoction he’s creating.
The last sip of alcohol slides down my throat with a welcome burn, and I slam the glass down on the bar. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t falter