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Bubbling with anger, I stormed to my room. The cabin shook as I slammed the door behind me. Staring back at it, I panted in fury. Tears rolled down my cheeks in rage. I wasn’t crying because of the things he said, it was because I was trapped.
I had no mother or family. He was all I had. Without him, I was alone. But the only way I would ever get his horrid voice out of my head was if I let him go.
As hateful as he was, I knew I wouldn’t be in the position I was if not for him. When sober, he reminded me of it every day. And, he was right.
Yeah, it was me on the field for 6 am practices and 7 pm sprints. But all he did for sixteen years was drive me from place to place and stand on the sidelines watching me play.
I knew what he was doing. He was keeping an eye on his investment. And, when I was 10-years-old and I would beg him in tears to do anything else but throw another football, he forced me to continue.
I truly wouldn’t have anything without him. Not my scholarship. Not my football-loving girlfriend. And not my chance to play in the NFL. I don’t know who I would be without everything he did. But, was the price I paid too high.
All of my swirling thoughts stopped when I heard a terrifying sound.
“No,” I said sprinting back into the living room and finding my dad gone.
It was him starting up his truck. He was doing it. He was leaving. I didn’t want him to go.
Running outside I saw him sway as he ground his gears looking for reverse. As drunk as he was, he was going to kill himself. I had to stop him.
“Dad!” I shouted running to the door of his truck and throwing it open.
“Get the fuck off me!” He yelled as I reached across him and again took the keys.
He didn’t put up much resistance after that. We were both out of breath and dazed.
“You were really gonna go, weren’t you?” I asked him staring into his eyes for the truth.
“You’re not my son,” was the only thing he replied.
Hurting me was so easy for him that he didn’t even look evil when he said it. He stated it as if it were a fact.
“Ya know, sometimes I wish I wasn’t. But I am. And you’re my dad,” I said resigned. “Come, let me get you to bed.”
“I don’t want to go to bed,” he mumbled.
“Then I’ll put you in front of the TV. You want that?”
His mouth puckered like he was trying to remember how to pout. “Yeah.”
“Okay. Let me help you inside.”
He leaned towards me and the door and I took his weight into my arms.
That was the beginning of a few very hard weeks. I’m not sure how different it was for my father. But, for me, it was when I realized that, if I didn’t watch him every chance I got, he could be gone.
I still went to practices, games, and classes, but not much else. The only thing that brought my life any joy was the few hours a week I would spend with Quin. I was barely keeping up my end of our deal, but I told him I was having a little trouble at home and he seemed to understand.
I think he saw how stressed I was. I definitely didn’t feel like myself. The strange thing was that Tasha didn’t even notice. She didn’t notice that I wasn’t around as much and that my life was crumbling around me. I was starting to wonder if this was what I should expect for the rest of our lives together.
With final exams and the end of the semester quickly approaching, Quin suggested that we increase our study time. Although I was on top of everything mentioned in class since I started attending, there were still a few weeks of material that Quin hadn’t caught me up on.
“The final exam is going to cover all of that material,” Quin said with the serious look he always got whenever we talked tutoring.
“As you keep reminding me,” I said with a smile.
“You need to pass this class. It’s not funny,” he implored.
“I know.”
