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Oh, the irony.
“Why can’t you trust me?If you could do it all over again, I bet you’d have another child.A son who can be better than me and carry the Bradley name, unlike me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You don’t think I’m capable of doing shit.”
“But what if you die?”
I grunt.Is he kidding me?“Everyone dies.I could slip while crossing the street, hit my head on the asphalt, and die of brain damage.”
I could bring up my epilepsy, but I don’t because it’s controlled with medication, and I haven’t had a seizure since I was ten.It’s the same with my asthma.
“You were a soldier.You still work protecting others.Why wouldn’t you want me to follow in your footsteps?”I almost pull out my hair in desperation.
It’s hard to understand my father.More so when he’s so quiet and the only times he speaks is to judge me.It’s not like I want him to chat like my mother, but could he just be a little more open to communication and receptive to what I need?I guess that’s the only trait my parents share.
They don’t give a fucking shit about what I want or need.
He huffs.“It was a different time.I wasn’t good at school.My parents didn’t have money to pay for my college education.It made sense that I enlist.My family worried about me.I didn’t understand until I got to see mothers, fathers, wives, and children cry when they lost a loved one.You’re my only child.It’d kill me if I lost you.”
“I’ve heard you say that you can’t live in fear.And yet, you’re projecting your apprehension upon me.”
“One day, when you have children, you’ll understand.”
“Well, I’m going to do this, so either you support me and train me well—so I don’t die—or I’ll do it on my own.”
His jaw twitches.After a long silence, he says, “Then, you’ll learn to listen and follow all my orders—without questioning me.”
“We’ll see,” I say, satisfied by his response.
It doesn’t make sense to remind him that he always tells me to analyze and consider all the alternatives when I just won a battle.I guess I’ll bring that up later.
Now the question is, will I be able to set up my company?
>>>> Continue ReadingSuddenly Broken
Almost Strangers
Jacob
“Oh, what a change of pace.I caught Matt fucking instead of you.”
I turn around, taking a deep breath.Ainsley is by the door, fuming.Someone upset her.
“What happened, Princess?”
“Matt is in your office, fucking an intern or someone.”She points toward the door.
I grunt.Why am I the one getting shit for what everyone else is doing?
I shove my hair away from my face and tie it up with the band I have in my pocket.“What do you need, Princess?”
She enters the studio.“Remember that incident with the skanky singer who OD’d last Friday—the same night you were caught drunk with two girls in LA?”
The red head (who I still can’t remember) and platinum blonde with huge boobs—thank you, Dr.Plastic Surgeon.It sucked that the deal fell through because the formerly trustworthy bodyguard—Arthur Bradley—interrupted me.
“Yes, I remember, and that shitty article we released to the press worked like a charm.”Ainsley prepared it, not me.“Everyone is off Papa’s ass because of your A plus writing.”
