"I would kill you, if it meant that I would never have to worry about you again," my father doesn't lift his head as he speaks into the phone.
"I'm sorry," the words fall from my lips, floating through the air, leaving me unsure if they're reach him.
"You're always sorry and what do I always say?"
"Apologies don't mean anything without action," I speak the words I've heard so many times.
"Every time you pull one of these disappearing acts, your mother worries that it'll be the last time. We'll find you dead on the side of the road, buried in some shallow grave or worse. I used to try to console her. Tell her you're a big boy, that can take care of himself but I was wrong. You've been gone for three weeks, and we find you here in some rinky dink jail, in bumblefuck Kansas. For what? Shoplifting. What the hell are you shoplifting for? You're 26, get a real job," he pauses as the sheriff motions for him to lower his voice.
It's not as if we'll disturb anyone, the three of us are the only people here. Usually the silence would be good for thinking but right now it only serves to let his words burn into my brain. He's right, my dad is always right, even when he's wrong. This time, he's just right. I'm a fuck up. Every time I apologize to them, I really mean it. I get things together and inevitably I ruin it. I wish I could blame drugs or some terrible upbringing, but I can't. I've always been like this. If things are going to well, I get afraid and look for ways to ruin it. I don't know why I'm this way.
My father's hand slams on the table, "say something," he shouts ignoring the sheriff's earlier warning.
"I don't," I try to swallow a lump in my throat. "I don't know what to say."
"You never do," there it is. His disappointment hurts more than anything else. I always wished he'd just hit me or something.
"Do you hate me," I don't know why I ask the question.
"No," he answers in instant without hesitating. "You disappoint me sometimes."
"A lot."
"A lot, but I could never hate you. Despite the constant missteps, there are times you make me proud as well. I just wish you were that version of you more often."
"I'm going to try to make you proud again."
"I hope so, I really hope so."
