Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
It’s a strange thought. It’s crazy to think that somebody I’ve known for such a short period of time has had this kind of impact on me. That I want her to be proud of me. That she’s my sense of peace amidst the chaos. Crazy or not, it’s true. She has swept into my life like a fucking storm and has turned everything upside down and inside out. And perhaps the craziest thing about it all is that I like it. That I’m thankful for it. That I don’t know how I’ve lived my forty years on this planet without having been shaken up like this before.
Without giving myself more chance to puss out of it, I raise my hand and knock on the door. A couple of moments later, it opens, and I find myself staring at my son. His hair is a wreck. He’s got several days’ worth of stubble on his face and looks like he hasn’t changed his clothes, let alone bathed, in days.
“You look like shit,” I say.
“Gee. Thanks, Dad,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “What do you want?”
“I wanted to talk.”
“Got nothing to say to you.”
“Maybe not. But I’ve got some things to say to you.”
“Not interested in hearing shit you’ve got to say, old man.”
“Too bad.”
I push past him and barge into Zane’s apartment, stopping in the living room and frowning as I take it all in, aghast at the condition of his place. Beer bottles and crushed cans, pizza boxes, and old fast food containers cover every surface. A blanket and a pillow covered with a case that’s stained and greasy sit on the sofa, where I assume he’s been sleeping. Zane slams the door and storms in, throwing himself down on the couch and glaring at me disdainfully.
“Maid’s day off?” I ask.
“What the fuck do you want?”
“I want you to open a window and air this place out,” I say. “It fucking stinks in here.”
“Get over it. My place, my rules.”
“So, you enjoy living in filth?”
“Maybe I do,” he snaps. “Now, get to it and get out. I got shit to do.”
“I hope showering and cleaning up is on that to-do list.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. This is getting us nowhere. It’s certainly not getting us closer to any kind of resolution. I make a concerted effort to dial down the irritation inside me and try to adopt a more conciliatory tone when I speak.
“Look, Zane, I didn’t come here to fight with you.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“Because we need to find a way past this.”
“Do we?”
“You tracked me down after all those years for a reason. You wanted a relationship with me,” I tell him. “And I want a relationship with you.”
“Why? So you can fuck all my girlfriends?”
“I had no idea that you knew Cassie, Zane. She just showed up at my door one night because she was running from you. Because you scared the shit out of her,” I say.
“We had a fight. It happens.”
“Not all fights end up with somebody scared you were going to beat them.”
“I would have never hurt her.”
“She feared you might,” I say. “That’s the point. She ran from you because she thought you might actually hurt her.”
“Then she’s an idiot.”
“What I saw that day you came to the bar tells me she’s not. Or that she overreacted,” I tell him. “You raised your hand to her. I thought you were going to hit her too, Zane. That’s why I stepped in when I did.”
“What do you want from me, Cash?”
“I want to find a way through this. I want us to keep building our relationship and not let this situation blow everything up.”
“Yeah, well, I want the winning lottery numbers,” he says. “I guess both of us are just going to have to get used to disappointment.”
“You never even told me Cassie’s name, Zane. You didn’t tell me the first thing about her. How in the fuck was I supposed to know she was your girlfriend?”
“She’s half your age, man.”
“So? Should I have known she was your girl just because she’s younger than me?”
“Younger than you? She’s young enough to be your kid,” he says, his voice thick with scorn. “How about going after somebody a little more age-appropriate? Jesus Christ.”
“We don’t get to choose who we fall for, kid. And some people just click on levels you never expected. Maybe one day you’ll understand that.”
“Great. Thanks for the life lesson,” he spits. “You’re a little late to be doling out fatherly advice. Like, almost twenty years too late.”
“So, you’re going to blame me for your mother’s decision again, huh? Is there anything you don’t want to blame me for?”
He shrugs. “I’ll get back to you on that.”
“You know, you’re pretty fucking good at playing the goddamn victim. But maybe you should learn to take responsibility for your own bullshit, kid.”