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“And now you’re abandoning me?” I called after them. Tristan’s stuff would get out of my house soon, then I could move on. No point letting it linger. That was one thing everyone always said about me. I knew how to keep going, even when life got really shitty.
My phone buzzed with a text message from my dad.
Your mom said you dumped that jackass.
I laughed. Dad’s bluntness was rarely charming, but sometimes I could appreciate it.
Yeah. You were right about him.
Good. Did you get all his shit out of your house?
Mom said I got my stubbornness from him.
Not yet. But it’s packed into boxes.
Bet that feels great.
Yeah. It kinda does.
That’s my warrior princess.
I rolled my eyes at that, but dads ….
Don’t lose your nerve, Punky.
I won’t. You know me, as obstinate as my dad.
So your mom says. When is he getting his crap?
Dunno. Need to text him.
Do it. I’ll wait.
Dad ...
Now.
The man was fucking pigheaded, but it’s what made him a successful intellectual property attorney.
OK. Hold on.
I texted Tristan:
Come get your stuff tomorrow. Your bike and TV are here & 6 boxes of crap.
The message was delivered but remained unread while I stared at it, so I went back to my dad.
No response yet.
Alright. Give him one week to remove his property. If he doesn’t respond, give him 24-hours’ notice that you’ll donate everything. If he has a problem with that, give him my number.
Dad ...
Don’t Dad me.
OK. You’re right.
Of course I am. I’m your father. Get some rest and get your locks rekeyed. If you’re feeling down, come stay with us for a few days. Okay? Don’t be alone.
