He smiles, his eyes flashing. “What, you thought I wouldn’t find out everything, everyfuckingthing, about the mother of my grandchild?” He chuckles again. “She’s a ballerina, huh? A good one from what I’ve heard. And she’s got her little heart set on Juilliard. My, my. Apparently, it’s one of the best schools andapparently, they’re pretty fucking lucky to have her. At least, that’s what he said when I talked to him, the dean. Turns out, I know him. I’ve asked him to take good care of her. She’s family now, isn’t she? You saw to that. And unlike you, the girl’s got ambition. She wants to dance for the New York City Ballet Company. I think I like her more than I ever liked you.”
My fingers vibrate on the desk, with fear, with dread, as he takes a pause to let his words sink in.
As he makes all my nightmares come true.
“But then, are you sure you want to give her that much freedom? Maybe she’s better off, staying home, taking care of your sweet little kid, who I very much hope takes after its mommy rather than its useless fucking daddy.”
“You fucking –"
Finally, his façade breaks and my father becomes the villain he is. “Watch your fucking tone with me, boy. You don’t want to piss me off. You don’t want to get me upset. Not right now, you fucking piece of shit.” His jaw clenches. “You think you can keep things from me, huh? You think you’re so clever keeping things from your old man, taunting him, rebelling against him. I tolerated that back when you were growing up. With your goddamn soccer and your teenage rebellion and little revenge plans. I let it go but those days are over. Thosefuckingdays are over. You know what you are now? You’re my bitch. You do what I tell you to do. I ask you to jump, you ask how high. I ask you to get down on your knees in front of me, you better be prepared to not only get down on your knees but to lick my fucking boots.And if you don’t, I’ll take your happy littlefamilyand crush them under those same fucking boots, you understand, you shithead. Don’t ever keep anything from me or try to pull one on me or I’d be happy to remind you, Roman. I’d be happy to remind you who the boss is.”
Bile surges up my throat.
He’s the only one who calls me that. Roman. And I’ve fucking hated that name for as long as I can remember.
Until her.
Until she chose to call me that, cleansing it with her voice.
Until she baptized that name with her candy lips and gave it a new life.
“How did you know?”
The question is out before I can stop it and now it hangs in the air like a time bomb. The one that I feel lives in my chest these days.
“How did I know what?”
You’d give up your fucking soul for that girl. Your father knew that.
I look at the man I’ve hated all my life, the one who brought me into this world, whose face looks like mine and who’s taught me everything I know, every cruel, mean, bad thing I know.
“How did you know I’d do it? I’d do everything. For her.”
My father stares back at me, his gray eyes hard. “I didn’t. I took a shot. I didn’t even think it was going to work. Because for all your tantrums, you’re exactly like me. You never cared for anything, much less a girl. But then she goes and steals your car, the car that you love so much, and you do nothing. Not a single thing. Made me curious, but again, I wasn’t sure it was gonna pan out. But it did. When you barged into my office that night, begging me to let her go. That’s when I knew. That’s when I knew that my son is a pussy. He’s a pathetic,weak, lovesick pussy. But I underestimated her charms, didn’t I? Because apparently,you’re still a pathetic, weak, lovesick pussy. Now get the fuck out of my office.”
Love.
There’s that word again.
The time bomb that I think lives in my chest starts ticking again. It starts ticking and ticking but then my father breaks into my panicked thoughts.
“Actually, take this with you.”
He opens the desk drawer and retrieves a file.
He throws it on the desk and it skates over to me; I don’t look at it though. I’m staring at him, waiting for him to speak.
He tips his chin to the file. “There’s a piece of land I’ve got my eye on for a long time. I’ve let it be for some reason. I guess I was saving it for the right opportunity and now I want you to get it for me.”
I look at the file then.
I reach out and open it and the terror that I’ve been feeling turns into anger.
It turns into fury. Violence and outrage.
So much of it.
But at the heel of it comes despair. Frustration, helplessness. This is exactly how I felt on the day of the championship game. When I broke her heart.
