I let the silence linger for a while because I didn’t know how to process this level of rage. I rarely became angry about anything because I was laid-back and easygoing. I was a forgive-and-forget kind of guy, after watching my brother make mistake after mistake. But right now…the anger was palpable, like waves of energy that were visible in the room.
Dad stared at me, his brown eyes studying my face. “You made the right decision—”
“You motherfucker.” I seethed in anger, looking at him with so much distaste that I felt the bile on the tip of my tongue.
Dad couldn’t control his reaction, his eyes immediately widening at my outburst.
Mom was even more shocked.
I got to my feet. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I came closer to her and stood over him, looking down at him like he was inferior to me for the first time in my life. “You had no fucking right to do that. How fucking dare you?”
Dad was silent, absorbing everything.
Mom pulled her hand away from his shoulder and spoke with a calm voice to de-escalate the situation, the constant diplomat. “Baby, just calm down—”
“Fuck no, I’m not going to calm down.” I threw my arm down just inches from his face. “You crossed a line. You betrayed my trust. You stuck your nose where it doesn’t fucking belong. I’m sorry that my life is such a disappointment to you that you have to intervene like that, like I’m some problem child doing heroin under a bridge. But get the fuck over it. Get. Over. It.”
His face started to flush red and his anger deepened, but he held his silence.
“Now it’s my turn to be disappointed in you.” I gave him a final scathing look before I turned to the door.
Mom’s voice turned more concerned when my father stood up. “Deacon—”
“You want to talk about disappointment?” His deep voice filled the condo with a distinct boom even though he wasn’t yelling, just raising his voice and making the baritone of his anger bounce off the walls like a loud concert in an auditorium. “Yes, I’m disappointed in you. I’ve never been more disappointed in one of my kids than I am with you.”
Like knives had stabbed me in the back, I sucked in a breath between my teeth and stared at the door.
“You aren’t brave. You’re weak. You’re letting a single person sabotage your life, letting her pull at your heartstrings when she’s not even around anymore. That is so fucking weak. Pathetic.”
I slowly turned around and faced my dad, seeing him seethe the way I did.
Mom was no longer diplomatic, looking panicked by the interaction. “Deacon, stop—”
“You think you can talk to me like that?” Dad stepped toward me, my height, in just as good shape as I was, so he was intimidating when he wanted to be. “If you think I’m just going to look the other way and accept this hollow and unfulfilled version of my son, then you must have a very low opinion of me, must really think I’m a motherfucker.” Spit flew from his mouth as he yelled at me, cursed at me when he’d never done that as long as I could remember. “Because I will never give up on you. I will never let my son settle for a life that’s not supposed to be his. I gave you time to sort through your issues because your mother made me, but no more. Get your shit together and be what you’ve wanted to be since you were four fucking years old. Be strong. Be brave. Be the man I know you are. I’m your father, and I’m going to keep pressing your buttons, getting in your face, digging my goddamn hands under your skin until it hurts because that’s my fucking job. If that makes me a motherfucker, then so be it.”
I shook my head. “You crossed a line—”
“And I’ll do it again and again.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t expect me to apologize because I won’t. I’m not sorry. I’ll never be sorry. But you’ll be sorry for talking to me this way. When I’m dead, you’ll regret this moment. This memory will haunt you for the rest of your life. Hope it was worth it.” He turned away. “Get the fuck out, Dex.”
I swallowed the insult and turned back to the door, wanting to get away from my father for the first time in my life. When I was young, we butted heads sometimes, but never like this.
“Deacon.” Mom turned on him.
I walked out and heard their exchange.
“I won’t go after him.”
When I was in the hallway, the adrenaline hit me hard, and the pain hit me even harder. Everything that had happened played in front of my mind again, like the memory of a car wreck that was so traumatic you couldn’t really process it at the time, so your memories were just broken images. My vision was tinted red, my gums ached from grinding my teeth so hard, and I marched to the elevator with no intention of coming back.