Chapter 30
Chapter thirty
Box Breath and Brain Cells
The next evening, I'm elbow deep in a heated argument with Tyler, who insisted on coming over for dinner even though it was his mother's night.
No doubt we'll be paid a visit from her soon.
The knowledge that she's going to pop up any moment distracts me from what he's saying; I stare unblinkingly as he talks, and force myself to listen to every word before squeezing my eyes shut in frustration.
Leaning against the counter in my kitchen, I listen to him ramble on about why he can’t go back to Spain.
"What can I say to make you let me come back home, dad?" he queries sharply, his blue eyes, so much like mine, flashing with anger. "I don't want to go back!"
Frustrated beyond belief, my lips press together, and I fold my arms even tighter, working to keep my voice level as I address him.
“Tyler, you have obligations. You made a commitment. We have sunk so much money into your education and all you’ve managed to do is fuck your way through your weight’s worth in women," I admonish. "If only they could give out degrees based on being a man-whore, you’d be all set!”
Disappointment heavily laces my tone, causing Tyler to arch a brow.
“You’re one to talk! You’ve had like twenty women since mom!
” he throws back bitterly, not even knowing the facts to speak on my sex life.
He leans his forearms against the island, uncaring about how disrespectful he sounds.
In my house. “And you’re screwing one now, too.
Don't deny it because I found the longest fucking hair of my life in the bathroom drain a little bit ago.”
I push off hard from the counter, walking the few steps to the opposite side of the island across from him.
I can tell without even looking that my features are hard set.
Tyler's eyes turn wary, but I couldn't care less.
If you've got the balls to step to me in my house, then you better be prepared for me to step forward because I won't tolerate it.
Not anymore.
“I’m a grown man, Tyler! Who I’m dealing with has got absolutely nothing to do with you, nor is it any of your damn business.
You better watch yourself and the way you speak to me, boy.
You don’t pay my bills; I do." I point a finger. "The second you start is the second you can have an opinion,” I snarl at him, angry but not surprised at Tyler’s disrespect.
He's unfortunately just like his mom. Not knowing when to keep his mouth shut.
Tyler holds his hands up, backing off. “Look, okay, I’m sorry. All I’m saying is that I need a break.”
I feel my face flush as all the blood rushes to my head. I clench my hands, truly irritated and taken aback at his words.
“A break, Tyler? You’ve barely even started!" My eyes narrow, and I gesture a hand. "You just began your studies in June! It’s the end of July! What the hell are you talking about right now? Have you lost your ever-loving mind, Tyler? I have your tuition paid up until May of next year!”
Tyler narrows his eyes back and leans forward himself, betraying irritation, and dare I say it, jealousy? “Well, we can’t all be super fucking famous psychiatrists who box with billionaires, dad. I’m not cut out for college.”
“Then what are you cut out for, boy?” I don't even try to stem it anymore. My voice echos around the kitchen, rough and impatient as I tilt my head, wondering for the first time if this is the day I get into a physical altercation with my own son. My boy. “I had you in foreign language classes, instrumental lessons, sports, theater, martial arts. Anything that I could get you in to pique your interest, and you didn’t want anything to do with any of it!” I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself.
“Your mother coddled you. Every time you wanted to drop out of an activity, she let you. I wanted you to stick something out, to show you how consistency pays off. Teach you discipline. What I should have done was send your ungrateful tail to military school.”
Pausing, because I feel my speech getting more rapid and cold, I take another deep breath and shake my head.
“All the opportunities in the world that you had at your disposal, and you squandered every one of them because you’re lazy, Tyler.” I gesture at him, trying to get him to see, to self-reflect.
“I’m lazy?” Tyler recoils his head back in obvious disgust as he narrows his eyes at me, his lips turning down into a frown.
The incredulously clueless look of denial makes me sick. As if we hadn’t had this conversation dozens of times before.
“Yes!” I yell, slapping the side of my hand into my palm. My eyes flash angrily, beyond furious. “Lazy! You’re lazy! If you had to run to fall into some pussy, I doubt at this point you’d even break a sweat to even accomplish that! You need to do better!” I finish, pointing my finger once more.
“Helllooooo,” my ex's high, sickeningly happy voice sounds out from the foyer, making me wince.
Unaware of the argument we are currently embroiled in, Hannah walks through the threshold into the kitchen, just letting herself in like she still lives here.
My eyes go to Tylers. "You unlocked the door?" He at least has the grace to look ashamed.
What the fuck.
I close my eyes, throw my head back in defeat, run my hand down the back of my head and grip my neck hard.
Her tall heels click onto the floor as she sashays over to Tyler.
I take a half-second to assess her: her blonde hair is styled into a long bob, and her wrap dress hugs her slender frame tightly.
My teeth clench with irritation when her gray eyes meet mine cooly.
I can tell she’s had recent work done on her face, and the fact that I know she's stealing from Tyler’s account to pay for it makes me want to punch my fist through a wall.
Backing up, I resume leaning against the counter, tapping my fingers rhythmically on the smooth surface while ignoring her. I'm seething mad at Tyler, and I just know that she's going to be nonchalant with him about this like she always is. She only feels this way because I pay for it.
Maybe if she’d ever cared to spare a dime for Tyler, she’d have been more invested in him.
My phone pings two times in a row, and I pull it out, turning my eyes away from the two of them.
Ever one for appearances, Hannah's busy obsessively picking her ridiculously pointed nails through his hair, trying to fix the strands.
She murmurs quietly, asking how his trip was and if he'd forgotten he'd planned to see her tonight.
As always, when they're around each other I'm forgotten, so I tune them out, their low voices fading to the background.
Leaving them to it, I read the two texts from Sarah.
My shoulders relax out of their tense state as a rush of warmth fills me, replacing the almost unbearable irritation I feel towards the two of them.
She sent a picture of her and a blue-grey Russian cat that she's smushed her face up against, making a kissy face.
Sarah Bella [5:25p]: Meet Bunny! I pick her up next week when we get back!
This woman named the cat Bunny?
I tap out a quick reply, ignoring Hannah fussing over Tyler's appearance.
Alex [5:26p]: That’s the most adorable bunny I’ve ever seen in my life, almost as adorable as her new mom.
“Ew, why are you smiling like that?” Tyler’s voice pulls me back from my momentary lapse of concentration.
I clear my throat, finding the sternness dissipating even more.
Looking up from my phone, keeping my eyes on Tyler's as I slide it in my back pocket, not caring to grace Hannah with any sort of acknowledgment.
The woman irks my goddamn nerves. The fact she's even standing in my kitchen is torture enough; I don’t want to have to look at her, too.
“Tyler," I heave a slow breath, steeling myself, "you can finish out your studies for the year and figure out if foreign politics is something you really want to pursue, or you can drop out and then find a way to pay me back for the tuition I’ve wasted," I say decisively. "Up to you. This is your life; I can’t live it for you, and I can’t want these things more than you want them for yourself.”
My mind starts to ease with this realization, the tight grip of years-long stress and worry loosening.
I swallow hard as emotions I didn't want to feel rise to the surface. I’d been harboring so many hopes and dreams for my kid that are obviously not welcomed, or wanted.
Despite how tense I am, Tyler pushes back, his eyes wide. “But, Dad, you won’t even miss the money! You’re loaded—”
My chin dips, and my eyes harden as anger takes the dominate role in my emotions. I will not let him go there. Not tonight, not anymore. I'm not a bank. I don’t care how many zeros are in my account.
“Don’t tell me what I won’t miss," I snap. "Like I said, the choice is yours. And my house is not a hotel. If you drop out and have no ambitions, no goals, and no sense of direction, then you can’t live here. Sorry. I’m giving you tough love, son.
” My eyes prick at the hurt look in his as I try my damnedest to let go.
It's hard, but doable.
“Alexander Richardson!” Hannah admonishes, turning to face me, her expression somehow managing to look shocked despite all the botox, fillers, and a mini face lift. “You’d abandon your own son?”
God knows I don't want to talk to this woman right now. Fuck.
My eyes slowly slide to hers, and unable to completely mask my inner feelings, my voice rises.
“He’s abandoning himself, Hannah! Why don’t either of you two see that?
I’m done fighting. Do what you want; it’s your life.
But I’m done letting people freeload off me like they’re entitled to my money.
I didn’t drop out of school even when shit got hard.
You think I didn’t want to maybe a thousand times?
I didn’t whore my way through college instead of studying. You know this Hannah; you were there!"