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I was so wrong.
Now I’m the only one left to feel all this anger, this desperate rage that makes me feel like I’m on fire.
And on top of that, my parents go behind my back to do the very thing I asked them not to.
“Cancel. The. Interview.”
My words are short and blunt, and then I turn, planning to head upstairs to the guest room—which has become my room—to fume at their absolute idiocy. Their audacity. To make this decision without involving me.
“No.”
I stop with my foot on the first stair, my head turning to look at my mother, who is still standing resolute in the corner, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed in my direction.
“Excuse me?”
“I said, no. I will not be canceling the interview.”
Taking my foot off the stair, I take several steps toward her, ready to take the rage I feel and send it her way.
“Teddy is my son. You don’t get to come in here and disrupt our life in a way that could—”
“Could what, Colton?”
My mother takes her own steps forward, ready to go to battle. She might be the quintessential Southern woman, prepared to defer to my father in many ways, but she’s also a southern Woman, and she doesn’t mince words when she feels like she has been made aware of wrongdoing.
“What life do you have right now with Teddy that would be disrupted?” she asks me, her arms spreading out to indicate the space around us. “You rarely take him out of this house. He doesn’t have any friends to play with. If the state of your kitchen is anything to go by, I’d wager a guess that the only things you’ve purchased at a grocery store are beer and frozen pizza and boxes of macaroni and cheese, and I doubt I need to tell you there is no way that’s nutritionally balanced enough for a three-year-old, let alone a grown man.”
I swallow thickly, refusing to let her make me feel like I’ve not been doing enough when I feel like I’ve been giving everything I have just to get by.
“While your home might not be my taste, it was certainly lovely enough before Melody passed and you decided to get rid of almost everything you own in a fit of childish spite.”
Her arms fan out to encompass the emptiness of the living room, which used to be filled with furniture and decorated bookshelves and art and now consists only of my blue lounger and the TV that hangs on the wall.
Teddy’s room escaped my purging, but every other room in this house is nearly empty, the result of a particularly rage-filled Friday morning about a week after Melody’s funeral when I decided everything that belonged to her had to go. Part of me wanted to have it all burned, but I decided instead to have it all shipped to her parents and brother back in South Carolina so they could decide what to do with it all.
Clothes. Shoes. Her entire side of the vanity. All of the furniture she picked out for our bedroom and the living room and the kitchen. All of her exercise equipment and books and storage bins of things that belonged to her when she was younger.
It’s all gone.
And holy hell did it feel like I’d performed an exorcism on this place once it was no longer my problem.
I didn’t tell my parents about it, though, so when they flew into town—unannounced, mind you—and showed up at my house bright and early yesterday morning to Teddy’s toys scattered all over a completely empty living room, I’m sure they didn’t know what to think.
But that doesn’t give them the right to blow through here and decide how things should be handled. I’m capable enough, and Teddy is doing just fine.
Which is what I tell them.
“Teddy is doing fine,” I say in response. “He didn’t need any of that shit, anyway.”
“He needs to be doing better than just fine, Colton.”
My eyes fly over to look at where my father stands at the empty bookshelves along the far wall, watching me with sadness on his face that gives me pause.
“You might not appreciate our methods, and we can take ownership of that. You’re an adult, and in most circumstances, you should be able to make all the decisions all the time, the end. I get it.” He pauses and shakes his head. “But things are going to continue to change, and Teddy needs some structure, some consistency. If you take a second to calm yourself and think it over, you’ll agree with us.”
My nostrils flare, and that anger in my soul continues to swell and ebb and flow inside of me. But I don’t say anything, not trusting myself just yet.
“We thought we were doing the right thing by giving you some space, giving you time to grieve and begin the next chapter of your life as a single parent. But all you’ve done is revel in the anger you feel at Melody, which is not a healthy environment to raise Teddy in.”
