Mike and I are watching Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe. The Deadliest Catch is on next, we’ll watch that too. We don’t speak.
He let me go to jail and I haven’t forgiven him for it. We’re disconnected. He’s too afraid to talk about it, to talk about anything, so we sit in our separate chairs blocking out our thoughts. Sit. Stare. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Why did we get married? Why did we have kids? Why are we still married? Why don’t I feel loved?
Puh..Slam! What’s that? I ask, turning toward Mike, his eyebrows are up, don’t know—. Hannah bursts through the door. Hannah, what are you doing here? She doesn’t answer, just glares at me on her way up the stairs.
We turn back to watch the TV.
After a few minutes I hear her stomp and trip down the stairway. What’s going on? Why are you here? She’s breathing heavy and shaking and moves to stand in front of the TV, blocking my view. Brat. I heard you didn’t read my letter. Damnit. Not this shit again. Well I’m here, so now you have to listen. She starts to read that ungrateful letter, the one she sent to me in jail, the one Mike should’ve dealt with, dealt with her. She’s his daughter. His problem. I can’t listen to this again, Hannah shut up! I don’t want to hear this shit!
How dare she come to my house and try to force-feed me her sad sap story that we didn’t love her enough, she had it better than I did. What more does she want?
She’s really going off now, she kicked the TV, what a little brat. I click it back on, she yanks the cord out of the wall. Stop! I scream and throw the remote at her. She just doesn’t get it, ungrateful brat.
She’s so needy. Wants to pin all her problems on me, well I’m not taking it. Her Father’s the one who made the rules, not me. He’s the one that didn’t want to celebrate Christmas or Easter. No one see’s how hard I work, how much I give and give and no one ever thanks me. Kids just think the whole world revolves around them, like they’re so goddamn important. Worthless brats. They just want to blame everything that goes wrong on me. I’m. Not. Taking. The. Blame.
Hannah’s a mess, sobbing like a baby. Enough of this shit. I beat you because you we’re bad, you deserved it, now get out of my house you little brat. She’s done. She won’t come back. I’ve won.
I can see in her face she gets it, she knows it’s true. It works, she runs away.
Mike gets up to chase her, but she slams the door in his face so hard the house shakes. He would go after her, she’s always been his favorite, doesn’t stick up for me, but runs right after her. I plug the TV back in to catch the rest of Mike Rowe wading around in the sewers. My breath catches, I choke down a lump. She shouldn’t have pushed me. It’s her fault.