I stand on the pavement outside the bar where I just failed the person who matters most to me and I understand — fully, finally, with no place left to hide — that the thing my father spent my whole life beating out of me has been there the entire time.
It never left.
He just made me ashamed of it.
And tonight that shame cost me everything.
I don't sleep. I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling and go through it over and over.
The glass.
The stillness.
His face when he walked out.
I text him at midnight.
Jamie:
I'm sorry
Nothing.
One AM.
Jamie:
Please call me
Nothing.
Two.
Jamie:
Rhys, please
Nothing.
I put my phone on my chest.
Think about Marcus watching him all night with those eyes full of grief for a thing he destroyed himself.
I understand those eyes now.
I understand them completely.
And I hate that I do.
I’m not him.
I’m not my father.
I’m not Marcus.
????????
Game day.
