can.
“You don’t have time for this? What could possibly be more important than your entire future? You really are lazy, kid, you know that?” His voice raises three octaves by the second, and a flush starts to creep onto his cheeks. I want to punch the living shit out of him.
My entire life, I had been told by this man, who was supposed to encourage and support me, that I was a lazy, no good sack of shit. Maybe not in those words, but he laid it on thick.
No, he hadn’t ever reached the level of physically abusive parent, but when you’re told your entire life that you’re not good enough, it starts to sink in. I don’t think my father had ever given me one high five, one “way to go, pal.”
I can feel my blood pressure rising as I ball my hands into fists, physically restraining myself from acting on my earlier impulse to strike him.
“Are you done with pretending you give a shit how my clinic went, or did you need to berate me for another fucking hour? Sorry we can’t all be you, Carl,” I practically shout in his face. I need to get it together. Focus on getting to Minka.
“You ungrateful little…” My father starts.
“Enough. Silêncio!” Mama shouts, her head swiveling between both of us. “Carl, enough of this, please. He works so hard, let him be young. He has time for all of that, his future, if the majors is what he wants.” She soothes my father in her lilted Portugeuse accent.
“And you…” she points her finger at me, “If you ever curse under my roof again I’ll wash your mouth out with soap. I raised you better. Don’t be so quick to yell at your father either, he only wants the best for you.”
I love her, but she just doesn’t understand sometimes. “He sure has a great way of showing it.” I seethe as I walk from the room. Fuck the shower, I need Minka. No matter what I look or smell like. Breezing through the front door, I try to lift my mood as I head for her.
14
Minka
I ’d started to get cagey when he was 15 minutes late. By the time half an hour rolls around, I’m downright paranoid, chewing on my ring finger like it won’t bleed if I bite my cuticle for the thousandth time.
30 minutes. That’s how long I’d been waiting for Owen. No call, no text. He was standing me up and I knew it. I’m so dumb. I’d let this happen again.
I stare at the clock. 7:31….okay, make that 7:32 p.m. Fuck this. I should go scrub my makeup off and pull my ratty old sweatpants on. Mint chip ice cream was just as good as Owen Axel. That ignorant jock.
Just as I’m sweeping my long hair, which I’d actually taken the time to curl into long loose tendrils, up into a ponytail, a soft knock comes on the front door.
It can’t be him. Who would show up this late into what was supposed to be a date? Moving towards the door, I peer through the peephole. Hercules himself stands on the other side, looking mussed up, but I can’t make out his outfit in the shadows of the front porch. But as usual, he looks lickable no matter what clothes adorn his body.
Okay, so maybe Owen Axel shows up 30 minutes, no make that 32 minutes, late. Jeez, he was going to have some stupid excuse. I shouldn’t even open the door, he was just going to try and manipulate me into…
“Minka open up, I know you’re there…I’m sorry,” he sighs, running a hand through his golden brown locks, causing the muscles in his biceps to flex. My heart gives a squeeze in my chest. God, he looks incredible.
I have to open the door, or I really would qualify as some immature high school girl. Edging towards the knob, I slowly turn it, feeling the anxious tingles in my stomach spreading through my body. I don’t want to be excited that my very hot, very late, crush is on the other side of this door, but I can’t help it.
I have a witty jab ready on my tongue, but it dies on my lips the minute Owen steps into the light pouring onto the porch from the foyer. He looks exhausted. He still has his baseball uniform
“You don’t have time for this? What could possibly be more important than your entire future? You really are lazy, kid, you know that?” His voice raises three octaves by the second, and a flush starts to creep onto his cheeks. I want to punch the living shit out of him.
My entire life, I had been told by this man, who was supposed to encourage and support me, that I was a lazy, no good sack of shit. Maybe not in those words, but he laid it on thick.
No, he hadn’t ever reached the level of physically abusive parent, but when you’re told your entire life that you’re not good enough, it starts to sink in. I don’t think my father had ever given me one high five, one “way to go, pal.”
I can feel my blood pressure rising as I ball my hands into fists, physically restraining myself from acting on my earlier impulse to strike him.
“Are you done with pretending you give a shit how my clinic went, or did you need to berate me for another fucking hour? Sorry we can’t all be you, Carl,” I practically shout in his face. I need to get it together. Focus on getting to Minka.
“You ungrateful little…” My father starts.
“Enough. Silêncio!” Mama shouts, her head swiveling between both of us. “Carl, enough of this, please. He works so hard, let him be young. He has time for all of that, his future, if the majors is what he wants.” She soothes my father in her lilted Portugeuse accent.
“And you…” she points her finger at me, “If you ever curse under my roof again I’ll wash your mouth out with soap. I raised you better. Don’t be so quick to yell at your father either, he only wants the best for you.”
I love her, but she just doesn’t understand sometimes. “He sure has a great way of showing it.” I seethe as I walk from the room. Fuck the shower, I need Minka. No matter what I look or smell like. Breezing through the front door, I try to lift my mood as I head for her.
14
Minka
I ’d started to get cagey when he was 15 minutes late. By the time half an hour rolls around, I’m downright paranoid, chewing on my ring finger like it won’t bleed if I bite my cuticle for the thousandth time.
30 minutes. That’s how long I’d been waiting for Owen. No call, no text. He was standing me up and I knew it. I’m so dumb. I’d let this happen again.
I stare at the clock. 7:31….okay, make that 7:32 p.m. Fuck this. I should go scrub my makeup off and pull my ratty old sweatpants on. Mint chip ice cream was just as good as Owen Axel. That ignorant jock.
Just as I’m sweeping my long hair, which I’d actually taken the time to curl into long loose tendrils, up into a ponytail, a soft knock comes on the front door.
It can’t be him. Who would show up this late into what was supposed to be a date? Moving towards the door, I peer through the peephole. Hercules himself stands on the other side, looking mussed up, but I can’t make out his outfit in the shadows of the front porch. But as usual, he looks lickable no matter what clothes adorn his body.
Okay, so maybe Owen Axel shows up 30 minutes, no make that 32 minutes, late. Jeez, he was going to have some stupid excuse. I shouldn’t even open the door, he was just going to try and manipulate me into…
“Minka open up, I know you’re there…I’m sorry,” he sighs, running a hand through his golden brown locks, causing the muscles in his biceps to flex. My heart gives a squeeze in my chest. God, he looks incredible.
I have to open the door, or I really would qualify as some immature high school girl. Edging towards the knob, I slowly turn it, feeling the anxious tingles in my stomach spreading through my body. I don’t want to be excited that my very hot, very late, crush is on the other side of this door, but I can’t help it.
I have a witty jab ready on my tongue, but it dies on my lips the minute Owen steps into the light pouring onto the porch from the foyer. He looks exhausted. He still has his baseball uniform
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