Stray

Part 1: Why I Hate This Place and Other Stories

1.

Today my son told me what he thought of me. It wasn't in my favor. I can't say that I was surprised. This confrontation was a long time in the making. He's been a walking hornet's nest since he was nine.

I sat him down and told him (when it became clear that his stepfather was a consistent asshole) that Ricky wasn't his biological father. Yeah - I've heard both arguments concerning this quagmire of child rearing. Tell the kid and you risk rebellion - You're NOT my dad! - don't tell them, and if they find out from anyone but you, they never trust you again. You become the Queen Bitch of Deceits and Confusion.

I don't believe in secrets. Not in families anyway. A wise man once said that decent people get to keep theirs. And I agree when it's a personal secret ... it's good to save a bit of you just for you. But a joint secret (even when the other party isn't aware) equates to living a lie.

I didn't want Antonio to live a lie and hate me for it later on.

I found out several years later that my nephew had already told him. Antonio was sixteen when he confessed. I had always wondered why he seemed to take the news so well - he had been so young. Now I had my answer: my sister (no doubt in the open and with no regard for who might be listening) discussed very personal details of my life. Her son heard it, the rest is history.

The fact is that I can't trust her with certain things ... okay ... I can't trust her period. I have had to learn this through many painstaking blunders and realizations. I don't tell her anything anymore. She has this need to prove that she is better than everyone else. Part of this involves throwing me under the bus as she sees fit.

Ah, yes. My sister loves me.

Ricky is no better. If what my sister displays to me is love, then Ricky must love me to the point of obsession. He loves me so much that we will be together for all of eternity. Our bodies will crumble into dust, and float on the ethers into space. Our essence will travel on and on into the cosmos ...

That's how much he loves me.

I live in a den of socially inept, narcissistic vipers.