Chapter 17 #3
“Michaels,” I start, my voice deceptively calm.
“I’m only going to say this once, so listen good, you little fuckstain.
If you so much as look in her direction ever again with anything other than the respect she deserves motivating your intrigue, I’m going to run you for so long you shit yourself.
And then I’ll make you eat it.” His eyes flare wide with panic as he stumbles back a step.
“Hypothetically, of course,” I tack on for legal purposes.
Andi isn’t here to play the part of eye candy for some horny high-schooler, and I’ll be damned if anyone ruins the place she escapes to when she needs to decompress.
I call it quits shortly after threatening Michaels, my mood plummeting with the realization that I’ve resorted to divvying out warning shots to teenagers.
In my defense, they give as good as they get.
I’ve been on the receiving end of their taunts too many times to count, but that tired-ass saying of those who can’t do, teach lost its effectiveness years ago.
If I couldn’t do, I wouldn’t have been hired to teach in the first place.
Honestly, I’m shocked I haven’t been fired yet, because the only way to combat these assholes is to be the bigger asshole.
My day only gets shittier with every hour that passes.
From the moment I dropped Andi off at Raiden’s apartment, it’s been one thing after another.
I spilled my protein shake on the drive to work this morning, and then Meri-Beth, the holier-than-thou art teacher who can’t take a hint, cornered me in the break room, questioning me about my weekend plans.
If I pursued a female staff member in the same relentless manner, I’d be an HR complaint by the end of the workday.
As if things couldn’t get worse, I had the pleasure of teaching an entire classroom of fifteen-year-olds all about sexually transmitted infections.
Maybe time has distorted my memory, but I don’t recall being so goddamn insufferable when I was their age.
I’m spent when I finally make it home, my feet dragging as I push inside our apartment.
Between Col and me, I’m typically the first one home, and today’s no different.
Who knows where Briggs is or what kind of shit he gets up to during the day.
He pays his portion of the mortgage every month, so I try to keep the peace as best I can.
I learned the hard way how badly it hurts to care for someone who doesn’t give a shit about themselves.
Too many times I fell victim to my mother’s lies and empty promises because I was too naive to know any better.
She’d make her way back to the trailer park she hailed from every few months, pretending to be a changed woman.
It was the same song and dance every time, her insisting she’d returned with good intentions to fix her laundry list of fuck-ups.
But she couldn’t keep the ruse up long enough to kick her coke habit.
So, inevitably, I’d wake one morning to find her gone, along with anything of mine or Pops that was worth pawning.
The saddest part is that I fell for her bullshit repeatedly, so desperate for her to choose me over getting high that I became complicit in my own destruction.
Every time she disappeared without so much as a goodbye, I grew a little more jaded.
I doubt my mother even gave parenting a fair shot before shirking her responsibility, not giving a single shit that her father was on a fixed income and past his prime.
But Pops never made me feel like I wasn’t welcome, and if it weren’t for him, I’d still loathe the woman who birthed me.
As hard as it was to have an addict for a parent, I can’t imagine how painful it was for Pop to watch his only child waste away.
He taught me countless life lessons over the years, but the day he sat me down and explained the ins and outs of addiction is something I think about often.
Because of him, I no longer blame myself or wonder why I wasn’t good enough to make her stay.
Anyone who’s ever been in that position is painfully familiar with feeling like they’re lacking something crucial that makes them lovable.
It took me a while to come to terms with it, but I now realize it was never anything I did or didn’t do.
Somewhere along the way, my mother lost pieces of herself and chose to fill those empty spaces with drugs.
I don’t resent her with the ferocity that I used to, and I’ve accepted that she was incapable of being the parent I needed her to be.
Maybe the crumbs I’ve been given over the years were all she could offer.
I haven’t lacked love or affection, and who knows what could have happened to me if she hadn’t left me with Pops.
Col certainly thinks he would’ve been better off if his mom had done the same.
It took too many years for him to pry his way out from under her thumb, but guilt and misplaced loyalty kept him at her beck and call long after she took her final breath.
If nothing else, my past was eye-opening, and that’s exactly why I keep Briggs at arm’s length.
He’s toeing the line of no return, and as much as I sympathize with everything he’s been through, I can’t go down that road again.
When people show you who they are, believe them.
I have no doubt he’s capable of changing, but he’s the only one who can decide if and when that happens.
Until then, my stance remains the same. I refuse to tie myself to a sinking ship, but for Andi’s sake, I really hope he gets his shit together.
I won’t stand by and watch her shoulder the weight of his baggage when he’s too selfish to be burdened with it himself.