Blue Dream Read Free Page A

bitching and moaning and I ain’t even got kids.”
     
    Dad stares down at the ground, regret flushing his cheeks. Or maybe that's the alcohol. “It's so much fucking worse with kids.”
     
    Mike shakes his head at me. “This ain’t life. It's a prison. An expensive ass prison.”
     
    “Very,” my father concurs looking back at me. “Do you have any idea how much you three cost? How much your mother costs? School. College. Graduations. Vacations. That shit just never ends.”
     
    In an even tone, I ask, “If it’s so terrible then why’d you do it?”
     
    “Trapped!” he loudly protests. Suddenly he slips his voice down to a whisper and drapes an arm around me. “See what they do is they get you while you’re young…young and dumb-”
     
    “And full of cum,” Mike adds.
     
    Dad laughs and nods in agreement. “They get you young enough to think life is all about love and roses. Sunshine and sex, but really they’re laying down the ground work for the day they tell you they’re knocked up and all you can do is marry them because you’re an 'honorable man'…We’re honorable men in this family.”
     
    Obviously. However, I feel maybe this conversation should be steered towards what honorable means? And who exactly is he honoring? Mom by staying in a miserable, loveless marriage? His children by forcing us to choke down bullshit rants like this?
     
    What sucks is now, now I feel like there's an invisible noose around my neck, tightening by the breath. He's not wrong. I pictured marriage with Pres some day being filled with morning blow jobs and bagels. Movie marathons and making love in the middle of the day or after a hard day at the office or whatever it is I end up doing. I wasn't thinking dollar signs and diapers. Bills and bill collectors.
     
    Nervous, I question, “Is that how you really feel?”
     
    “Look…don’t make the same mistakes we did.” Dad says in a stern voice. “Presley’s a nice girl. Smart. Loyal.”
     
    My face unconsciously twitches a smirk.
     
    “Dump her. She’ll come back. You two can get back together way in the future. Cut her loose now and live a little.”
     
    “Fuck that,” Mike laughs. “Live a lot.”
     
    My eyes stare deep into my father’s reading a pain I never have before. He's a grade A asshole. I've seen disgust in his eyes for me since I was old enough to crawl. I've seen the disappointment and shame that comes at social functions or family gatherings. Disgrace for me being the derelict he just knew I would be when I came out of the womb. All of that and I've never once saw an honest, heartfelt pain like the one I'm seeing now. I fold my arms and search for light in the darkness of the alcohol that has consumed him. That has broken the dam of emotions. I can't become him. I don't want to become this.
     
    “That was the dumbest fucking advice he’s ever given me.” I let the candy cigarette shake between my lips as I tug at my brown hair. My eyes are still planted on the ground. “What kind of father says that to his son? What kind of father tells his son to give up the only thing that makes him happy in his life?  What kind of father dumps his own emotional bitterness for his sheer existence on his very impressionable teenage son? The one you never tried to connect with before that moment? The one who took that sliver in time as your way of trying to build a bond he swore would never be born. What kind of father destroys his son's life in less than ten minutes?”
     
    “You gave her up.” Doc states.
     
    I ash the cigarette on the floor and mumble, “Obviously.”
     
    “Had you taken advice before?”
     
    For a brief moment I shut my eyes, cigarette rolling around my fingertips. Honesty bubbles in the back of my throat, burning my lymph nodes on the way up. Quietly I admit, “Not really.”
     
    “Why start?”
     
    “Because I was afraid he was right,” I whisper bringing the candy back to my lips. Letting it sit on them