Find A Way

Shut Up Shut Up Shut Up

My intense emotions are cut as soon as I hear him come in the door.

"Cassie?" he calls. Something about his voice and demeanor always sent a wave of calm through me.

He came around the corner, his brows knit together. He was surprised to see me. A panic set ablaze in my heart that his invitation to step in anytime I needed to had been hollow.

"Is everything ok?" he asks immediately, and the panic fades.

"I didn't know where else to go," I said bluntly. His hand was out, inviting me in for a hug but I ignored it and sat at the counter.

"I'm pregnant," I announced. I couldn't hold that in for another second to myself. If there was anyone in the world to share a burden, his shoulders somehow were always big enough for one more "and I was fired this morning". I stared down at my hands, laced neatly on his countertop before looking up. I enjoyed the stunned look on his face. Again, I had actually stumped him.

"Are you ok?" he asked but I didn't answer. I let that anger settle back in again.

"You know I came here to get help."

My heart started pounding so hard I could feel it in my ears but I ignored it.

"I came here to get help, but you've made that so hard, impossible almost. Maybe I made it up, that I needed you, but I know that either way you make it so much worse".

He stepped up close to me at the counter and laid his hand on my back.

"You know I always want to help you, but you should see a doctor about-"

"That's not what I'm talking about" I say louder than intended "I mean I came here to move on from all the shit that's built up inside me, but you've made it so much worse, so much more complicated, so much harder".

"I suppose it's not my place to tell you what to feel, or how to handle it. It's your process. Your journey".

I slammed my forehead down onto the countertop. It might have hurt more under other circumstances. I was sick of listening to him put the ball back in my court. I was tired of him handing over all the thoughts and emotions in a conversation and leaving me to myself. I was sick of him saying process and journey like there was some light at the end of the tunnel.

For a long time I felt like I barely had my head above water. Swimming. Swimming. Treading water. At one time, drowning. I felt like it would take me the rest of my life to reach that beach that was always a hair away from my finger tip.

"It's not your place and yet you always make it your problem" I respond bitterly "you pretend like this is all my choice, like you don't have a say one way or the other but you do. You can't have a one sided relationship."

"But the things that concern you should stay with you-"

"Then what the fuck is a father supposed to do!" I screamed "You are supposed to care, care too much, you're supposed to interject your opinions and fight for me, fight for what you think is right but you don't! You just leave me to myself the way he always did!"

I raked my fingers aggressively through my hair, letting my nails scrape my scalp in frustration.

"You pretend like I was the one to make this happen like I wanted this.... I didn't want this.... all I feel is confused and tired...."

"I never asked you to-"

"Yes you did" I hissed "you may not have said the words but you sure as hell said it with your actions. It was always in your eyes, and showing up to my dad's funeral, and the way you hug me now after every session-"