“And we do now?”
“You’re staying with me, aren’t you?” I ask, tightening my grip on the steering wheel as we headed to my mother’s.
“In a spare bedroom.”
“I told you the terms before you moved in.”
“And how long do you think I’m going to let you remain in control? That’s not how this thing works. I’m trying to meet you in the middle. But my patience is running thin.”
“Wow, the big bad biker can’t hang when he has to think of someone other than himself.”
“Don’t go there. You start flinging insults and I’ll fire back.”
I clench my jaw.
“I thought so.”
“Why do you always need the last word?” I snap.
“Because I if I don’t, you’ll keep walking around here thinking you’re running shit. Which isn’t the case. It wasn’t enough that I moved in on your terms. You want me to be someone I’m not.”
“No I don’t.”
“Don’t you? You knew who and what I was when you started messing around with me. Now you need to learn how to live with it. ‘Cause you decided to keep the baby which means I’m damn sure going to be in their life.”
“Why do we always end up like this?” I ask feeling defeated as I turn the corner.
“You don’t know how to calm down and go with the flow. The attempt to control everything is halting our process. I can’t function like this. Shit puts me on edge. Every day, I’m biting my tongue and hating it at home. Do I seem the type to do family dinner? I ain’t never met a parent in my God damned life. But here I am. I’m trying. But you have to do the same.”
His words hurt because they’re true. I pull into the driveway and place my hands in my lap. “You’re right.” I’ve been holding back trying to protect myself.
“You let me into your body, but everything else is closed for business. Today is my last gesture of good will.”
The finality in his tone is sobering.
“You hear me.”
“Loud and clear.”
“Hope so. Clock is ticking down. I’m bringing this to the table at Church next week. After tonight, we’re going to have a long overdue conversation.”
“Fair enough. We should head in. I’m sure they’re peeking out the window by now,” I say fixing a happy expression onto my face.
“You think I give a shit?” He leans over, ups my chin and turns my head to face him.
“No,” I whisper.
“Don’t get caught up in their drama, Ruthie. I’ve watched you shrink back into your shell and become someone I don’t know on this drive. I understand family dynamics fucking with your mental. But you left it behind and became your own woman a long time ago.”
I sigh. “I don’t want to do to our child what was done to us. The fights we heard, the way we were made to feel like garbage when our dad bailed and went on about his life. He couldn’t even be alone with us. They deemed him that unfit. Most of my time spent with my father from ten and up was supervised. When he felt like being bothered. He was living in L.A. Still does actually. But his checks were never late. He always points at that. Apparently, that’s all it takes to be a good father, providing financially.”
“We both know that’s bullshit.”
The venom in his tone on my behalf makes me smile. “Yeah, we do. Being pregnant brought up a lot I thought I already dealt with.” I see the curtains move and swear, “Damn.”
“Tonight you’ll tell me?”
“Yes.”