When I Met Him In The Summer

Eight

I have always been terrified of my dad, which is irrational, because in all my years on this earth, he has not once ever raised his hand or even his voice at me. It is not even all the brooding confidence he exudes as soon as he walks into a room, or his cold, numb glare that scare me.

If I had to guess, I would say it started when he raised his expectations of me. We were decent at first, but after that, our relationship went to hell, because I forgot how to be a son and him a father, and all I cared about was his validation and impressing him.

The trouble is, the only thing that impresses him—and good Lord, did I try for a while—is school...straight As, and ambition. He does not care about talent or interests or shit like that.

I have neither straight As, nor ambition.

When I do really well in school, it's a B minus, and I cannot tell him my only goals in life are to either inherit his wealth or marry well.

I adjust the collar of my button up shirt, because it feels like it is choking me as he catches me looking at him. I look away quickly and take interest in the mashed potatoes on my plate. I know,I just know he is waiting for an opportunity to pounce on me.

"So Jake, how's school going? Still looking at IT?" he asks, sipping his wine.

I squirm. It's Jake right now, but it is going to come back to me. Eventually.

"Yeah, yeah...um, it's final year and then I'm looking at maybe NYU or Stanford," Jake answers between mouthfuls of roast steak, and me and mum share a look.

"What is NYU short for, Jake?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

That was a mistake. I should have just kept my mouth shut. Before Jake even gets the chance to embarrass himself completely, dad zeros in on me.

"And you? Still adamant about law school? You still think "the Arts" can pay for a condo in L.A?" he catches me a little off guard, still trying to figure out how the fuck Jake had aced this.

"It's been almost three weeks into your summer vacation and—"

"It's only been five days, actually," I cut in, suppressing an eye roll.

"Well, why don't you have a job or something, anything to keep you busy? I'm sure your classmates are working their butts off as we speak."

Instead of yeah, because they're poor, I say "Jake doesn't have a job either. I'm sorry, are you playing favorites here just because you think he is actually serious about," I pause and scoff, "Stanford and NYU?"

I turn to Jake again before dad can answer. "I asked you, Jake. What is NYU short for?"

"Stop this, Daniel. Instead of trying to prove whatever it is you're trying to prove, you should be more like your brother and have things figured out," he says calmly, and fixes me with that disappointed look.

I stare in my lap, and lower my voice until it is almost a whisper.

"I'm seventeen, I don't need to have everything figured out just yet."

I grimace. That sounded so much better and more badass in my head, and the silence around the table confirms it. I might have crossed a line.

"Well, you can say that when you're paying your own bills and living in your own house. You know, I don't know when you're going to get over this phase of yours, because you're not a child anymore. Grow the hell up, Daniel." He does not yell, and he is not even angry, no.

There is just something so condescending about the way he says it that just makes me finally....snap. if he thinks I crossed a line before, well he had better hang on to his hat.

"Well, God forbid you get called into school because I'm fucking my teachers for good grades or smoking joints in my room, or bringing different girls home everyday right under my parents' noses because guess what! That's what golden boy IT over there is doing! You know why? Because you're never fucking here!" I say, jabbing an accusatory finger in Jake's direction.

"Danny, you cannot talk to your father like that," mom cuts in quickly, holding my hand. She shakes her head at me, signaling me to stop...but I have just about had it.

"No, mom, it's the truth. Are you denying it?" I seethe, yanking my hand from her grip.

He just stares at me like he does not even know what the fuck I have just said. "Just as I thought. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm not hungry anymore." I scrape my chair loudly across the floor, stand up and run upstairs.

Call me spoiled and entitled, but I tried tonight.

About an hour later, after I have cried my eyes dry and my head still hurts even after three painkillers, mom enters my room and lies down beside me on the bed, hugging me.

"That's not how dinner was supposed to go," she whispers into my hair, kissing my head.

"Yeah well, you should have told me he was coming instead of trying to make it some big surprise. Maybe I would have read flash cards like Jake did," I say and sniffle, and she chuckles.

We lie in silence for a while before the tears start to flow again, and I make no effort to hide them.

"Why can't he just...love me?" I ask, sobbing.

"Oh honey, he does love you. Alot, but as it is, he just has a different way of showing that love. He's hard on you because deep down, he just wants what's best for you."

"I'm not three, mom. That bullshit is sure as hell not going to work on me!" There we go, back to normal, like nothing ever happened. "When is he leaving again...I don't know, maybe my happiness will return then," I add coldly.

"He'll leave early tomorrow but I suggest for now, you go talk to him and sort things out." She pats my back, kisses my head and gets out of the bed. She first makes me promise that I will talk to him before she walks out the door.

I do not want to, but she is right. So, begrudgingly I got out of bed, washed my face and say my prayers as I walk straight into the Lion's den.

Hello everyone◉⁠‿⁠◉. Happy Monday.
Here's another chapter, and I'm going to be doing daily updates from now on, instead of just Wednesdays and Fridays, because the story is moving far too slowly lol.
Happy reading, and don't forget to vote, comment and share.