Quandary

A Frustrating Odyssey

"You're lucky I'm even letting you go on this trip." Spat my father.

"Honey!" Interjected my mother.

"No, he needs to learn some discipline!"

I could feel the texture of the lumpy asphalt with the bumping of the car. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore their nonsensical arguing. The car bumped over a rock, shaking my eyes open. My father adjusted the rearview mirror to face me. His brooding eyes burned into my reflection.

"You listen to me Don, if I see you misbehave in any way you will never leave the house again."

I stared out the car window, my arms crossed.

"Don!" Bellowed my father.

"Shouldn't you be worrying about my grades?" I uttered as I rolled my eyes.

My father's foot slammed onto the break. The car jolted to a stop. My father's head reared around to look me dead in the eyes.

"That's it. I've had it with you and your rebellious actions!"

"Rebellious?!" I scoffed.

"Leaving the house without telling us where you are going repeatedly, doing school work and assignments less productively, talking back to your mother, refusing to eat dinner, locking yourself in your room, shouting at thin air, stealing my flowers, what on earth is wrong with you nowadays?!"

"I don't know, you're the idiot who raised me!"
My father's eyebrows shot up in anger. I could see pure, boiling hatred in his pupils.

"I will turn this car right around and you will never go on this field trip. You can stay locked up in the house that you keep trying to escape from for some damn reason! I want an answer to all this behavior of yours right now!"

I sat there uncomfortably, fumbling around in the back of the car. My father looked like such a well-made man. His hair was combed back evenly, he wore an ironed flannel over a white shirt that was tucked into his belt. Despite him staying up so late and so often, he had no bags under his eyes. He looked like a proper and serious man that could get work done. But underneath the surface, he had control problems and anger issues. My mom probably fell for him because of his outside appearance. My father's fist smashed onto the car radio.

"Answer me!" He screamed.

"I don't know!" I yelled back.

"What do you mean?!" Gritted my father.

"I mean I don't do any of that stuff because I want to. I do it because I'm in a situation where I have to."

"And what is that situation?"

Silence passed for a moment or two. I could see my father's fingers digging into the steering wheel of the car.

"I- I can't say."

My father's face tightened into an expression of pain and pure rage.

"It is this kind of insubordinate, insolent behavior that will get you into-"

"I'm asking you to trust me!" I shouted, cutting off my father.

"What?"

"I'm telling you right now, man to man, that you have to trust me on why I can't tell you. When you were my age, weren't there things you couldn't tell your parents? It wasn't that you were doing bad things, you just knew you couldn't involve them."

My father's expression of hatred slowly formed back to his normal face. I must have been mistaken but it was like I could see repentance in his eyes. He turned around and began driving forward once more.