Steven Easton

My Own

Wednesday, May 22

Today, I started thinking about what would happen if I decided to not be a teacher forever. What else would I want to do for the rest of my life? I realized that whatever I do, I want to serve people, and I know that all roles need to be filled. That can look like being a teacher, or that can look like being a manager at Target. Morgan is a manager at a craft store, and she loves it, even though she has to deal with annoying customers and employees. 

Tonight was the first Wednesday night we haven't had anything to do because we didn't have church, so tonight was just a normal week night for us. Whatever that even means. Things are slowing down right now, and I can hear the screeching halt of the breaks for everything coming to an end, but it's obvious things haven't stopped because I'm still hearing that.

Tonight as we were finishing up eating dinner, Ava asked, "When did you know about my dad?"

Lying destroys relationships, so we learned from Stacey. "About a year ago."

"And you didn't tell me?" she snapped.

"I had to make sure he wasn't a poser first."

"You knew, too?"

"I told you when I knew he was for sure coming."

Glaring, she folded her arms. "You knew. You're just like my mom." She pounded her fist on the table, splashing her half full glass of milk onto the wobbly table. 

"That's not how this works, Ava." 

"I hate you!" she snapped, sliding out from the bench as quickly as she could, scrambling through the kitchen, just wanting to get away from me. I could hear her scurry up the stairs right before I heard the door to her room slam.

That escalated quickly.

I don't know if I screwed up; I really don't. What even is the right way to handle this? 

Giving her time was the only way I knew how to handle this. Having either one of us be somewhat emotional while responding to this immediately wouldn't help either one of us. Knowing all too well what this is like brings this overwhelming sinking feeling upon me whenever I think about how this is affecting her. I hate everything about this situation. 

I left out the rest of her dinner because she wasn't quite done, and I didn't want to piss her off anymore. After I finished the other dishes, I knew it was time to go up and talk to her. 

Knocking on her door, she didn't respond, so for her own safety, I said, "Ava, I'm coming in."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to tell me why you're mad."

"Because you're trying to keep me from my dad."

"I know it seems that way because I felt the same way with my mom when she didn't tell me anything about my dad, but looking back, I knew that she just wanted to do what was best for me. For me and your dad, I just didn't feel the need to rush into you meeting him just in case something felt through. I would've felt awful if I told you that he wanted to meet you, but changed his mind. The last thing I want for you is you to get hurt."

"I hate my mom," she mumbled, hopefully taking my words into account to a degree. 

"I love your mom because she brought me you."

"Are you going to have more kids?"

"Probably?"

"You're going to love them more," she stated bitterly.

"Why?"

"Because they'll be your own."

"Ava." She was sitting on the other side of her bed. "You are my own."

"Not really."

"Why are you saying that?"

"Because my parents didn't want me."

"Had they not been on drugs, and would've been able to choose their lives over the drugs, they would've chosen you, I promise."

"Is my dad on drugs?" 

"Not anymore."

"I don't want to meet him."

"He's flying all the from Florida with his wife."

"I don't care."

"Ava, plane tickets are expensive though."

"Well, maybe he should've thought about that before he did drugs." 

Knowing that I owed it to her to advocate space for her if that was what she needed, I didn't say anything, allowing her to be the next one to talk if that was what she needed.

"I hate my parents. They are so stupid."

"Hey, no one's asking you to live with them; I just think you'd regret not taking the time to meet your dad if he now cares enough about you to fly across the country to meet him." I paused. "But I understand if you really just do not want to meet him. I will not force you do to do anything."

She glared at me for a moment, and then crawled over to me and wrapped her arms around me. Sighing, I wrapped my arms around her, knowing that she just needed some comfort.