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Eleven
Adam
Iwatch Sage walk down the empty city street until she turns a corner and disappears. In my mind, I know…that’s it.
She and I have no more business together. I need to focus less on her and more on what I’m going to do with my life now, and it sure as hell isn’t pretending I’m dating someone just to make my father mad. This isn’t high school. I’m not a child.
As I turn in the opposite direction and start my slow stroll back to my apartment, I think about that night with her again.
That wasn’t me. The way I behaved with her was evil. Wanton. Weak. Years of Bible studies and sermons have taught me that temptation is like poison to the virtue of a good man.
But at the same time…I finally got to feel what it’s like to truly let go. To finally do what I always wanted to do.
And itfelt good.
My father would tell me that was the work of the devil. The temptation to give in to such carnal and sadistic urges can only bring a man to ruin.
Of course, that is the same man who I caught indulging in his owncarnalurges and with no remorse. Without apology or contemplation. As if it meant nothing to him. As if…everything he taught me my entire life…was a lie.
I’m not a fool. I’m thirty-seven fucking years old, and I have enough self-reflection to know that indulging in vices from time to time does not make me a good man condemned.
But am I agoodman?
I’ve never had meaningless one-night stands before. And would have never dreamed of sleeping with a cheating woman. Something came over me that night. I was depraved, and the only thing worse than the way I behaved was how much I enjoyed it.
Not to mention how flippantly I treated her, leaving just after I came and never putting her pleasure before mine. Iusedher.
God, I’m no better than my father.
Fuck—do I want to be?
These thoughts circle round and round as I reach my building, taking the elevator up to the third floor. The moment I step off, I pause in my tracks as I find myself standing face-to-face with the man himself.
Instantly, my blood starts to boil.
I haven’t faced my father in three weeks. Not even for church or Sunday dinner. Just the sight of him now proves I’m not ready.
“What are you doing here?” I mutter darkly as I try to pass him by to get to my door on the other side.
My father grabs my arm and gets in my face. “We’re going to have a civil conversation. You understand?”
“Fuck you,” I reply, seething with hatred as I stare into his eyes. I’m still wearing a light bruise under my eye and a scar where he split the skin of my cheek with his fist.
“Open the door, Adam.”
I yank my arm out of his grasp as I plunge the key in the hole, turning it with a click and opening the door before marching inside. He’s behind me, shutting the door so we’re suddenly alone.
“I have nothing to say to you,” I call with my back to him as I head toward the kitchen. I need a fucking drink.
“Too bad. You’re going to listen anyway.”
I spin on him with my brow furrowed. “You think because you’re my father, you can talk to me like this? Get the fuck out of my apartment.”
He scoffs with a smug grin that I’d like to punch off his face. “The apartment I bought for you.”
Something in me snaps. “I’ve worked my ass off for you. I’ve dedicated my life to your church. Your message. Your career.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re still throwing a fucking fit over the writing job. Jesus, Adam. Grow up.”
