I knew I needed it. I just didn’t realize how much until I got there.
“Hey, Gabe,” Mike said from behind the counter.
Nodding, I said, “Hey.”
“Whoa!” Mike said as he stepped back. “What’s going on, buddy?”
Shrugging, I said, “School sucked.”
“It’s the last day,” he said as he scrunched his eyebrows.
“It can still suck asshole, dude,” I laughed.
Tossing his head back, Mike placed his hands on his stomach and let out a deep laugh. “Sucked asshole? Dude, I love it,” Mike laughed.
“Spread the word,” I said sarcastically.
As I pulled out my wallet to hand Mike the money, he waved his hands. “No, dude! School sucked asshole for you today. Have fun.”
Smiling, I put my wallet in my back pocket. “Thanks, Mike.”
“Anytime, Gabe,” Mike said with a reassuring smile.
Walking into the batting cages, I dropped my bag in front of an empty one. After unzipping the bag, I pulled out my helmet and bat. I needed to relieve some stress and what was a better way than hitting a bunch of balls as hard as you could?
As I felt sweat drip from my forehead and a burn in my arms, I felt relaxed. Like I had let loose of all of this built up anger and stress and everything.
I wasn’t one of those people that if something bad happened I confronted the person about it. I sort of let things, small things, build up. I would eventually turn into the Incredible Hulk. Where my veins would bulge and my eyes would get huge. I would shake from all of the adrenaline coursing through my veins. And when that happened, you had better get back.
***
Sighing, I dropped my backpack and baseball bag by the front door. Looking down, I tilted my head. That’s odd. Why is there a suitcase by the front door?
My stomach tightened. I felt like how I was at school. Nervous. Anxious. Not wanting to know what was going on. However, I was still curious.
I stopped in the corner of the living room and leaned against the wall. I didn’t move after I crossed my arms in front of me, kind of like a shield. Protecting my heart and not letting anymore hurt in to break it.
Taking in the view, I saw my dad was sitting in his man-chair. Mom was sitting as far away from him as humanly possible. Tears were falling down her face. Her nose was red and her eyes puffy.
I looked down to see she was holding tightly onto a tissue. “What’s going on?” I hesitated. I knew. They didn’t have to tell me. I mean, I wasn’t stupid. I could tell things weren’t going well for some time.
“Honey—” Mom started to say, but stopped. Her bottom lip started to quiver and tears ran down her face like water from a faucet that was turned on full blast.
Kicking off the wall, I walked over to Mom and sat down. I grabbed her hand and looked into her eyes. The wet, depressed ones. I could feel tears forming in my own eyes. I had never seen my mom cry before. She was always so strong. Still is. I guess she was pretty amazing at hiding it, like a magician.
“Dad, aren’t you going to do anything?” I yelled as I looked over in his direction. I couldn’t believe he was just sitting there, looking off somewhere else, like he was blocking all of this out. It was a burden he had to even sit here and deal with Mom and me. He didn’t care. I knew that. I had for a while.
But it still destroyed a part of me inside. Because you think something and your gut is telling you that it’s the truth. But your heart? It still and will always believe you’re wrong. You hold out hope. Sometimes that’s the only thing you have. You may not always have money or friends, but you will always have hope. I’ve learned that hope is the one thing no one can take away from you, no matter how hard they try. That person can never take away hope.
As Dad got up from his seat, he cracked his knuckles. “Look, I have nothing to say. Me and your mom haven’t been happy for some time.” He paused for a breath. “I fell in love with someone else and we’re starting a family.”
Getting up from my seat, I got in his face. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I roared.
“Look, Gabe. I made a choice. Her name’s Claire and she’s really nice. You’ll like her.” There’s that word again. Choice. He said it with no remorse or guilt. No regret. It was simple and concise.
Shaking my head with disgust, I let out, “I will never meet this woman. You chose another family over the one you already have. After this day, I will never be a part of your life, I can promise you that. I will make damn sure of it.”
I didn’t understand how a father and husband could just walk away like that. How do you do that? Even though I’m not married and I don’t have kids, I could never do that. I hate saying the word never, but I would never do that. I couldn’t.