Something I learned early on when dealing with narcissists is that if you make something about them, they will engage with whatever it is. And if it’s to apologize for something? Forget about it. They will move mountains and rearrange their entire schedule to be there.
Knowing this, I used these sad truths to my advantage and called my dad under the guise of needing to talk to him and apologize because I knew it would be the only way I could get him here, even if apologizing is the furthest thing on my mind.
Nerves flutter in my stomach as he walks through the entrance of Luxe.
Disinterest and disgust capture every inch of him as he nears me. There’s no hug. No “hi, how are you?”. Nothing in his demeanor that would even indicate that we know each other, let alone our paternal connection.
Observing the emptiness around us, he settles his gaze on the bar. “This place open or what?”
“If that’s your way of asking if you can get a drink, help yourself.”
“Isn’t that the bartenders job?” he huffs, insulted.
“Technically Luxe is closed today, but the new owners let me come in anyway. Like I said, help yourself.”
My dad scans the liquor options. With all the disapproving noises he’s making, I assume nothing is to his liking. He finally settles on a bourbon, reaching for a glass that he polishes with his suit jacket before pouring himself a generous amount.
A few seconds pass by before he seats himself across from me with a wry grin smeared on his face.
I inhale, trying to ignore how smug he looks as I collect my thoughts. “Thank you for coming.”
He takes a swig of bourbon, swishing it around in his mouth before swallowing. “Tastes like shit,” he murmurs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Anyway, I appreciate you being the bigger person and realizing you have not only a lot to apologize for but to be embarrassed of.”
All poise I attempted to maintain flees from me. “Excuse me? What do I have to be embarrassed of exactly?”
For someone who claims the bourbon tastes like shit, he sure has no problem draining his glass all while ignoring me.
“I asked you a question,” I press him.
He sucks in his teeth, once again mumbling under his breath. “I should’ve known.”
My patience is wearing thin. Years of repressed anger raises to the surface as he continues. “The fact that you don’t see your behavior, and quite frankly, your perpetual need to disrespect me as embarrassing is in fact embarrassing all on its own.”
Before I can say anything Tomás appears in the doorway. I nearly forgot that I asked him to meet me here as well. I left out why, but unlike my father who needs extensive reasoning and his ego stroked, if I say I need Tomás, he’s there, no questions asked.
My dad turns his head to the squealing hinges as the door closes. “Great, this guy.” He doesn’t bother keeping his voice lowthis time. He makes his disdain for Tomás loud and clear. I know that his hatred isn’t at Tomás himself. Whoever I chose to be with who was observant enough to see how I’ve been treated all these years, who was caring enough to want to help give me a voice to stand up for myself, would be on my dad’s shit list. Still, I’m tired of the disrespect, and all of that ends here and now.
As Tomás approaches the table I correct my dad. “That guyis my husband.”
“Sure, whatever you say,” he grumbles.
I knew inviting him here wasn’t going to be pleasant. It wasn’t meant to be. What it was intended to be was me severing all ties with him for once and for all, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. It just so happens that it’s happening sooner into the evening than even I anticipated.
Despite Tomás having every right to hate my dad, and I know that he does, he still is a gentleman, even if my dad doesn’t deserve him to be, and extends his hand for him to shake. As expected, my dad refuses to shake his hand or even acknowledge him, and I can feel my pulse throbbing my temples.
Enough is enough.
Tomás ismyhusband.
He’s myhome.
And I’ll be damned if anyone, let alone this scumbag I share DNA with, is going to disrespect him any more than he already has.
“My husband said hello to you.”
“I heard him,” he says chewing on the ice remaining in his glass.
“Ahh, okay, so you chose to be a dick on purpose?”
