who’s gonna cower and hide when you get mad. You don’t own me. You don’t control me. You sure as fuck don’t know me. Listen when I tell you—I ain’t no drunk!”
“Alright, just an addict?”
“Fuc—”
“Cash, stop actin’ like we don’t love you! Stop actin’ like I don’t love you! It’s ’cuz we love you that we had to let you go! Do you think it’s been easy on us all these years? You have no idea what you put us through! All the nights we worried if you were dead or alive! All the holidays you weren’t there to celebrate! All the birthdays you missed out on, both yours and ours! All the times we wished you were there wit’ us!”
“Like you were even thinkin’ ’bout me!”
“You’re my son, Johnny Cash McGraw! I’m your father! I’m always thinkin’ ’bout you! Don’t you ever fuckin’ forget that!”
I grabbed the first thing I could reach and chucked it at his head. “I fuckin’ hate you! Do you hear me?” As expected, his reflexes were quick. He ducked, and the picture frame hit the door behind him. Glass shattered in every direction, resembling my heart he ruthlessly kept breaking.
I knew who he was and what he stood for. I hated him. Nevertheless, I hated myself more.
Why did I come here? Why did I put myself through this? Why did it still hurt so damn much?
It was as if I was a child all over again, wanting his father to listen, to care, to pay attention to him. The feeling was by far the worst I’d felt since abandoning Bailey. I couldn’t get him to see me. To truly see his son who was standing in front of him, craving his love. The saying ‘Time heals all wounds’ was complete bullshit. The years passed us by in the blink of an eye, and there we were, still standing on opposite sides.
I wasn’t a drunk or an addict. I could stop if I wanted to, and I’d prove it to him. Simply to shut him the fuck up.
“I remember!” I shouted from deep within my core. My voice echoing off the walls, loud and clear.
He stood, mirroring my heated stance. “Get outta my house! NOW!”
“Don’t worry, Pops, I already got one foot out the door.” In three long, determined strides, I was standing inches from him. Needing to say one last thing to his face. I glared profoundly into his eyes, stating the truth I felt in my heart and soul for my entire life. “I remember who you are, but fuck ... do I wish I could forget you’re my father.”
I thought releasing the toxicity would make me feel better. I thought it would take away the hurt, the hate, the turmoil I dealt with every fuckin’ day.
I was wrong.
So. Very. Wrong.
Tears welled up in his gaze as they did in mine. In one breath, I heard him reply, “Ditto.”
Causing the tears to fall outta my pain-stricken eyes. I winced, unable to hide my emotions from him. I’d spent the last twelve years trying to drink and drug them away.
Trying to drink and drug myself away.
Nothing compared to what that five-letter word meant. The one word that was capable of destroying what was left of me.
“What did I do,” I choked out with tears cascading down the sides of my face, “that has always made you hate me so goddamn much? All I’ve ever wanted was for you to accept me the way I am. I don’t understand. Make me understand, so when I walk outta here, I can leave you in my past. ’Cuz the memory of you is fuckin’ killin’ me inside. Do you understand?”
Two solitary tears rolled down his cheeks, and it was the first time I realized how much he’d aged after all these years.
“I didn’t mean that, Cash. You’re my boy, you’ll always be my boy. Except this man standin’ in front of me, I don’t know him. I thought the day you left was the worst day of my life.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t. This moment is. My son is in there somewhere, fightin’ a battle I spent eighteen years tryin’ to fight for him. I can’t save you. I can’t help you. I can’t even see you. Behind your hazel eyes is nothin’ but a rock star who’s a drunk and druggie. Now, do you understand me?”
“You’re wrong.”
“When’s the last time you didn’t drink, Cash? The last time you didn’t take somethin’ in order to