I take great satisfaction in the fact that his Democratic competition shaved far more points off Dad’s lead than any of his previous opponents. In fact, Dad won by his closest margin ever, meaning voters aren’t fawning over him anymore.
That had to tighten his sphincter and likely explains him unloading his irritation onto his easiest target.
Me.
“Congratulations,Dad. Listen, my work phone’s ringing, and I need to take this call. I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up before he can protest, knowing he probably won’t call me back.
I feel zero guilt over the lie. He’ll shiny-squirrel to whatever crisis his staff waves under his nose and lose interest in pecking at me, until the next time I catch his ire.
Probably because something I’ve done has pissed himoff.
Or, because he needs to unleash on someone and I’m the only one who won’t sue him or can’t quit because he’s an ass.
Or perhaps, just as common, he has something to point out to me where I’ve failed in his eyes, or where he thinks he can use me and the network to boost his visibility. He really doesn’t have an interest in talkingwithme, but lecturingtome.
That’s the way he’s alwaysbeen.
What’s even more of a shame is it took me so damn long to finally realize it. Unfortunately, I made choices I can never take back before I finally understood that about him. That who he is, and his actions, do not define me or my life.
That how he treats me is about him and has nothing to do withme.
Thinking about the ways in which my life could be drastically different and far lesslonely had I realized that about him years ago is only one of many methods by which I emotionally self-flagellate.
Something else no one knows about me, not even Lauren.
Then again, I’ve always been pretty good at hiding my truths behind a mask.
* * * *
After having to deal with my father, it’s tempting to pour myself a drink from the room’s mini-bar, but I resist the urge. Maybe later tonight,once I’ve finished filming, and I’m back in my room. I’m a professional and won’t fuck a show because of my father.
Dad drains me. Hell, he drainseveryonewho has to spend a lot of time with him, and even some who only have to endure him for a little while. One of those other things I didn’t know until later in life, that vampires are real. The emotional and psychic kind, that is. How some cursedpeople can drain you without even laying a hand on you.
I didn’t know that before. I’d thought it was complete bullshit, until an epiphany where I realized that was exactly what happens when I interact with Dad. I don’t know how Mom put up with him as long as she did.
Does it make me a horrible son to think the cancer was an escape for her? That maybe that’s why, when I tried to push her toseek more aggressive treatments, she simply smiled and…gave in?
My work cell dings with an incoming text from my field producer, James, letting me know the crew is packed and ready to move to the other site, where we’re meeting the tech crew who’s assembling our portable set and getting everything ready for our show at seven.
Which I really don’t want to do. I love my home state, but it’s hotand muggy right now, even for a November morning. Fuck standing around and sweating through my shirt, just because James is an obsessively early and paranoid individual who needs extra time to set up, and who freaks out if we’re not there and set up hours ahead of time. I mean, yes, I’m a hard-ass when it comes to work, but even I have my limits.
I’d rather gather our production staff in oneof our air-conditioned rooms, put together the video packages, and chill out for a little while after lunch. We’ll all be grumpy as hell after spending hours outside in this miserable heat.
Telling James off isn’t an option because he’s the son of a network VP.
Another of those battles that aren’t worth fighting.
Lou counseled me to simply ignore him and try to get along, but Lou is usuallya lot more laid-back than I am. Also, this is one instance in which Lou refuses to buck the system, because he’s not pulling the kind of bank I am and doesn’t have a contract to protect him.
Meaning I need to buck up.
Mom, I wish you were here, but I’m glad you’re free.
Because freedom is something I long ago traded, along with my damn soul, for what I thought was my dream career.
Turns outit wasn’t worth the trade.
And now, I have no one but myself to blame for those decisions.
