When he took a step toward us, Tyler and Mom let me go. Tyler stepped up next to me and pulled my mother behind him. I laughed without humor. “I haven’t been ‘little’ in a long time, you piece of shit. Now you better turn around and walk your sorry ass out that door!”
His eyes raked over me. “Don’t worry. I’ll walk my sorry ass out the door, and straight to the police station!”
I clenched my fists at my sides, while Tyler shrugged. How was he so calm when it was taking everything I had to just stand there? “Be my guest. But when they come to question us, it’ll be our word against yours. Just remember, you hit her first,” Tyler said casually. His tone suggested he was bored, but his eyes told a different story. It was all a façade, and even though it wasn’t his mom who’d been hurt, he was as pissed as I was.
“This is not the end of this,” he snarled.
I took a step towards him. “This is the end of this, because I promise, if I ever see you here again, you will not walk out that door.”
We all stood rooted to our spots for what seemed like forever before my father finally turned and walked out of our lives.
Hopefully for good.
I was packing my equipment up for practice when I heard yelling coming from the kitchen. I grabbed my bag and walked into the living room to find Mom on the phone, looking like she was ready to throw something. I rolled my eyes.
Here we go again.
Mom and Dad were fighting, that was nothing new. Ever since they’d gotten divorced four years ago, the conversations were always the same. Mom would call my dad to make arrangements for his visitation, but he always had an excuse. They’d argue for a good half an hour before Dad would either give in and come to pick me up as scheduled—which happened very rarely—or he’d send an expensive present, as if that made up for not being around.
What it really came down to was that he was more interested in his business than me, and he always had been. I knew he made a lot of money, but that didn’t mean anything to me. What I needed was a dad who wanted to spend time with me, not all the expensive things he bought me because society expected him to.
The clock in the hall chimed. Practice would be starting soon and I needed a ride to the field. Softball was about the only thing that kept me sane these days. It was the one place I found refuge from all of the crap my dad had dumped on us the day he’d decided he liked his secretary better than Mom. Even my mom struggled as she tried to find someone to love, but no matter what she still loved me and showed me as much as possible. She tried to make up for my dad but she didn’t need to because I didn’t really want to see him anyway. My father was past the point of redemption in my eyes.
Suddenly, she started pacing. Crap. That usually meant it was going to be a long fight. I walked up to her and whispered, “Mom, practice starts soon and I need a ride to the field.”
She covered the phone with her hand, mouthed to me to hold on before continuing her pointless conversation. I rolled my eyes and huffed at her. That earned me “the look” and I stopped in my tracks. When I got “the look” I knew I’d taken it too far. I sat down on the couch with my bag at my feet, and waited patiently until finally, a few minutes later, she hung up the phone.
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered before putting on her overly bright, happy face. That always meant that I wasn’t seeing Dad. “Honey—” she started to say, but I put my hand up to cut her off.
“Mom, I already know what you’re going to say.” I used a comedic voice to try and mimic her and lighten the mood, but it didn’t work. “Dad has to work this weekend and can’t see you, but he’ll make it up to you.” I stood up and crossed my arms over my chest. “Which basically means he’ll buy me some expensive thing that I don’t even want in the first place, and pretend like that makes up for not being around and missing my game this weekend.”