Lucas - Ten Years Too late

Breakfast is quiet. Aunt Maggie sits across from me like she always does, and my father sits next to her. No one has said a single word since we sat down. This is highly uncomfortable.

Aunt Maggie and I almost never sit in silence. She’s a talker. She tells me about her plans; plans to renovate the house, plans with friends, plans for the diner’s menu. And now that he’s here, she’s quiet.

“Lucas,”

I try my best not to grimace. “What?”

“Luke,” Aunt Maggie says, a warning.

I take a breath. “Sorry. Yes, Xavier?”

“Luke,” she says again.

“It’s fine, Margret,” he says, giving me a hard look. “Lucas, I’d like to continue the conversation we had yesterday,”

“No,”

“Lucas,”

“I already told you that I’m not moving in with you,”

“You’d rather live on your own than with your own family?”

I resist the urge to laugh. “What family? My family’s in this town. In this neighborhood. Or are you forgetting the part where you tossed me aside like I meant nothing to you?”

The reminder does nothing. Absolutely nothing. He doesn’t look sorry or remorseful. He doesn’t think he did anything wrong. He never has.

“How long are you going to throw that in my face?”

“For as long as I remember it,”

“Luke,” Aunt Maggie says, her voice soft.

I look over at her, giving me soft eyes.

Releasing a breath, I turn my attention back to my father. “Okay, let’s talk about it,”

He looks surprised. “Uh, well, I already told you that Julie wants you to come live with us,”

“Why?”

“Because of the baby,”

“And that,” I say, pointing a finger at him. “Is exactly why I would never do it,”

“Lucas, if you-”

“Listen. I’m glad you’re so happy about having a kid. Another kid, since you keep forgetting about the one you already have.” I shake my head. “That doesn’t even matter. I have no interest in being in you and Julie’s picket fence life,”

“I don’t understand why you have to be so difficult. We’re trying to reach out and have you as a part of our lives. Why can’t you just do that?”

“Because, dad, it has taken you ten years, a new marriage and a baby on the way to want me in your life. If you cared, even a little, you’d have asked a long time ago. Hell, you wouldn’t have let me run away in the first place.” I rise to my feet. I’m done with this conversation. “I’m going to work,”

No one protests, so I make my way out.

The man has some nerve. First he won’t acknowledge everything he’s done wrong as a parent and now he wants me to just forget everything and move in with him and his perfect wife.

I can’t even begin to think about moving into their house. Living with the man who was emotionally and physically abusive until I had the courage to leave. That courage only managed to come to me after I turned eight.

Forcing it out of my head, I get on my bike and head to work.