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“I don’t want to risk Mom seeing us together. After making me promise that time, she believes I’ve severed contact with you.”
“I see,” comes out in a depleted tone, then he drags his hand down his face. “All right. I’ll text you when I have the money.”
“Don’t worry about it. Take care.”
I walk out the door before he says anything else, start up the bike and ride off.
When it comes to Barry, there’s an ongoing battle of emotions within.
Part of me wants to heed Mom’s words and stay away from the man who couldn’t be a responsible father. While the other side—like the seven-year-old still waiting for him to get his shit together—doesn’t have the heart to turn my back.
I know he’ll want money again eventually, just like the last couple of times. And like a fool, I’ll keep giving.
