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Tell me about your father, Deacen.
The woman in front of him is stunning. Too stunning to be a therapist. Too stunning to be sitting here listening to him ramble on about his bullshit. Deacen was extremely self-conscience about going to therapy. It was most likely a combination of the shame of his disease and the stress of his fame. It could have been how embarrassed he was about the things he had done in his life. Or it was just that he was scared shitless to face his problems head on. Either way he hated doing it. He did it for his mother. He did it for the woman that made him the man he was today. She worried constantly for her eldest child. He had been through hell and back since his teenage years. He struggled every day to be a person, a man that she could be proud of. So, here he sat. What was there to say about Anthony Valentino? He was a legend. He was a God among mortals. He was the king of the industry. To Deacen, he was Anthony. Not dad, or father, or pop, or pa. He was Anthony. To Deacen, the only good thing this man ever did for him was help bring him in to the world. He was a drunk, and a cheater, and a piece of shit that never deserved a good thing in this world. Deacen had some many nasty things to say about the man that he could talk about it all day. But was that healthy? Was that the way for him to heal? Probably not. It made him feel good, thinking and knowing that he was a better man that his father. He could feel his right fist balling up with anxiety over this topic. He cleared his throat to speak, but didnt know where to start or what to say. His left hand moving to his collar, rubbing against the skin at the base of his neck. The whole situation, the whole conversation made him want to drink. Bad. If he were home right now he would be half a bottle deep by now. As much as Deacen wanted to confront his father about being a man he hated he couldnt. All he did was ignore him. Pushed him away. Pretended he didnt exist. He felt like a scared little boy. How could he talk to his father when he couldnt even share his feelings in this very moment? He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He took a deep breath, his hand rubbing the back on his neck. Where the fuck do you want me to start? |