Midnight Parking in Olmos Park

Chapter 5: Michael

Dad brought home takeout from one of my favorite Chinese restaurants, The Lucky Fortune.

He still remembered my order, lemon chicken with a side of steamed rice. 

The two of us sat at the table, the atmosphere still filled with tension. 

"How did your graduation go, son? I'm sorry I couldn't be there, you know how work can be." My dad says.

"It was fun, my party was even better. I wish you could have been there," I lie so I don't hurt his feelings. "But, I understand that you had to work."

"Your mother was telling me that she and that new boyfriend of her's bought you a new car?" Here we go. 

"Yeah... they did." I nod my head. 

"Kind of an odd gift, considering you'll be living in a city where most of its population walks and takes the subway?" He adds. 

"Well, I'm not going to be taking it with me if that's what you're assuming," I raise an eyebrow at him. "It's only for when I visit during the holidays and summer, of course." 

"I suppose you're right," Dad took a bite from his general tso's chicken. "Do you like him?"

"Like who?" I ask. 

"Her boyfriend, do you like him?" He asks again. 

"Please, don't make this dinner more awkward than it already is," I tell him. 

He bats his eyes at me. "What, so I can't ask questions now?" 

"You can ask them, but don't use them to the advantage of Mom," I say firmly. "The graduation question was valid because it was about me, not her."

"Oh, Michael, I didn't mean it the way you insinuated," 

"Dad, you do it every time we're on the phone with each other for our monthly calls. So, please don't insult my intelligence. If you would like to see how Mom is doing, then you should talk to her yourself." I know I may sound harsh for saying this, but it's not like I haven't made it clear in the past. 

Someone says one thing, then it gets blown up into something greater than how it was told, and I don't have the patience to deal with the miscommunication anymore. 

Both of them have put me in the middle with their questions since the divorce, and I'm tired of it. I tell them both that they shouldn't use me to find out what they're doing with their lives now because it makes me feel like I'm being sneaky.

If they want to know so badly, they need to be adults and ask each other instead of asking me to do it for them.

"I'm sorry, son. I don't mean to insult you, I was just curious is all." He utters, slowly twisting his noodles with his fork. 

Ugh, why did this need to happen? I know it could have been prevented, but of course, I have an overbearing urge to make my feelings valid. 

I grabbed my phone off the table and stood up from my seat, "I need some air." 

I walked out the back door and headed down the trail to the water. 

It's been an hour since I've been sitting out here. My bottom was starting to hurt, so I walked the beach with my feet in the water. I was trying to find a stick to draw random things in the sand like I used to do when I was younger.

I had to walk about fifty more feet until I was lucky enough to come across one. 

I forgot how stress-relieving this used to make me feel.