I don't know why he's all of a sudden calling me. I've been able to find work the past two weekends. That's it. And now he's scared of my safety? I've been out way later other days for reasons more frivolous than work. I think it's because of The Secret/The Change.
Anyway, I got to see booby, then I went home, just like I did last Sunday. The only difference is is that when I called My Fucking Father tonight, I had to make up a reason I was so "late." I told him I was working all this time and I just got done getting chewed out by my supervisor. My Fucking acted surprised, then said "oh-oh-oh," like he was going to yell at me for something, but quickly realized that there was a good reason I wasn't home late (either the made-up chewing out or the working). What really happened was I got done early, dropped somebody off at MSP, ate at the Hooters at MOA, had coffee and worked on some paperwork at Uptown, then worked out for about an hour before heading to the titty bar.
When I came home I made sure I came home hurried. I saw My Fucking Father downstairs, shrouded in darkness because the light at the bottom of the stairway is never turned on. This is usually an image he wants to conjure up before he lays into me, yelling at me for doing this or not doing that. But coming in all pissy girded me for an aggressive stance to blunt any verbal fusillade he wanted to deploy against me.
So after closing the front door behind me, I look at him -- well, his shadow -- and I ask, "What do you want?" I made myself big enough, in animal terms, because My Fucking Father slowly walked away to the computer room.
"Father?" I continued, just in case. He whispered something, and when I said "Uh?" he said, "Nothing."
I was ironing out all the wrinkles now: "Are you sure?" I said, to which he replied, "Yes." But of course it wasn't over; I was gathering my things when I saw him circle back. What was a pair of legs retreating had turned around and reformed back into a body coming back into my line of view. "Buy some water," he said, "And find it where it's cheapest."
I could not believe that is the thing he wanted to really say to me, but I had to play it off, so I scratched my head for a few seconds longer than I should before saying okay. And that was it.
But water? No. My Fucking Father wanted to insult me about coming home late, or The Change/Secret he still needed help with. It isn't water. And that's one of the big things I hate about this family: We don't tell each other, calmly and civilly, what we really need from each other. I do not like to be blindsided with important information, and yet what's worse is people in this family hiding that information from me because they think I'll get mad. It's going to come out anyway, whether it's something that needs to be done or feelings that will be blurted at a much more inopportune time.
So this conversation isn't over. I don't want the conversation, but it's something I'm going to have to have anyway. I just want to see whether it's My Fucking Father insulting me, or more news that I can't handle.
By the way, I should end this and buy some water.
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