now.
“You can say you are sober, but that’s what all addicts say. I want you checked out by a professional.”
“ADDICT!” I pick up a vase and huck it right at his head. Old habits die hard.
Heath ducks and the loud shattering sound is very satisfying to me. It has also caused him to shut up for a minute. Then it really gets nasty. We both scream and curse at each other; I throw a few more things until Heath finally backs to the door.
As he is leaving I hit him with one more knife. “If you were any kind of real dad, you would know I have been in a relationship for months now. That’s why I’m sober. Because Jason is doing what you and mom never could, he cares about me!”
As I slam the door in his puzzled face I hear him mutter, “Jason?”
* * *
Wow what a scene.
The only way to handle that is just what I do. I go shopping. Nothing relieves stress as well as spending a bundle and coming home draped in pretty packages.
Now, hours after that screaming match, I am heading home with my arms full of pretty colored bags and lots of tissue paper sticking out of the top. A rainbow of satisfaction.
George holds the door for me. I smile at him. I’m all back to normal now. My new normal, which is smiling at George and I learned how satisfying it is to actually send him lunch once in a while…a little way to say thank you . I also plan to give him and the maid, I can’t remember her name, a nice holiday bonus.
I clean up all the glass and pottery around my place. I’m fine with that, because I’ve got some really pretty and expensive clothes to put away so that balances out the loss of some expensive pottery. Then one thing Heath said hits me; he pays for this apartment. Yes he does. And if he thinks that entitles him to barge in and harass me, he has another thing coming.
I’ll settle this issue today!
I change into a pretty pant and jacket set of white and black geometric patterns. I put a red silk shirt on to really pop out from the black and white. This is about the only way I wear true red. Mom made very clear how terrible most red shades look against hair like mine. Rust and browns are ok, but real reds wash out my hair. But with a different color on the jacket collar, the red won’t be noticed and compared directly to my hair. I like red, I have almost none of it in my closet.
I am going over to my dad’s and get the apartment put in my name. I’ll just get his paperwork and then figure out who the agent is, then I’ll take over. I don’t need him. Sure it’s a lot of money, it will take me longer to become a billionaire, but I’ll have some peace of mind.
Heath has a big house in a gated community because he is a big shot movie star. Have to keep the rabble and the paparazzi out. My cab pulls up to the front, I tell the drive to keep the meter running and promise to tip him well. A look at the house tells him he has a good chance of this being true. In hopes of a fat reward, he has no problem waiting. I slam the door because it builds up my confidence in some way. I stomp toward the big main door.
I barge right in the door. I’ll let Heath know what it feels like to have your home invaded. Something red catches my eye, it is around the side of the house, the side of the driveway in front of my cab, but I am walking too fast to turn and focus. Still, something about that red bothers me. I push down, I’ll think about it later.
The maid scurries back from me. I
“You can say you are sober, but that’s what all addicts say. I want you checked out by a professional.”
“ADDICT!” I pick up a vase and huck it right at his head. Old habits die hard.
Heath ducks and the loud shattering sound is very satisfying to me. It has also caused him to shut up for a minute. Then it really gets nasty. We both scream and curse at each other; I throw a few more things until Heath finally backs to the door.
As he is leaving I hit him with one more knife. “If you were any kind of real dad, you would know I have been in a relationship for months now. That’s why I’m sober. Because Jason is doing what you and mom never could, he cares about me!”
As I slam the door in his puzzled face I hear him mutter, “Jason?”
* * *
Wow what a scene.
The only way to handle that is just what I do. I go shopping. Nothing relieves stress as well as spending a bundle and coming home draped in pretty packages.
Now, hours after that screaming match, I am heading home with my arms full of pretty colored bags and lots of tissue paper sticking out of the top. A rainbow of satisfaction.
George holds the door for me. I smile at him. I’m all back to normal now. My new normal, which is smiling at George and I learned how satisfying it is to actually send him lunch once in a while…a little way to say thank you . I also plan to give him and the maid, I can’t remember her name, a nice holiday bonus.
I clean up all the glass and pottery around my place. I’m fine with that, because I’ve got some really pretty and expensive clothes to put away so that balances out the loss of some expensive pottery. Then one thing Heath said hits me; he pays for this apartment. Yes he does. And if he thinks that entitles him to barge in and harass me, he has another thing coming.
I’ll settle this issue today!
I change into a pretty pant and jacket set of white and black geometric patterns. I put a red silk shirt on to really pop out from the black and white. This is about the only way I wear true red. Mom made very clear how terrible most red shades look against hair like mine. Rust and browns are ok, but real reds wash out my hair. But with a different color on the jacket collar, the red won’t be noticed and compared directly to my hair. I like red, I have almost none of it in my closet.
I am going over to my dad’s and get the apartment put in my name. I’ll just get his paperwork and then figure out who the agent is, then I’ll take over. I don’t need him. Sure it’s a lot of money, it will take me longer to become a billionaire, but I’ll have some peace of mind.
Heath has a big house in a gated community because he is a big shot movie star. Have to keep the rabble and the paparazzi out. My cab pulls up to the front, I tell the drive to keep the meter running and promise to tip him well. A look at the house tells him he has a good chance of this being true. In hopes of a fat reward, he has no problem waiting. I slam the door because it builds up my confidence in some way. I stomp toward the big main door.
I barge right in the door. I’ll let Heath know what it feels like to have your home invaded. Something red catches my eye, it is around the side of the house, the side of the driveway in front of my cab, but I am walking too fast to turn and focus. Still, something about that red bothers me. I push down, I’ll think about it later.
The maid scurries back from me. I
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