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(Page 2 of 2) The Past Makes the Future by Jim Washburn She went over to each of them for a little head scratching and give a supportive tail wag to the people she so loved.
"Casey doesn't act any different Dad, why can't you treat me like she does?"
"She's a god dammed dog! What the hell does she know anyway? She does not have friends, she doesn't get embarrassed or care what people say." The dog gave a canine sigh and headed for the stairs, her mission an obvious failure.
"So that's it? I'm an embarrassment to you. Is that all that matters? Wait, I just answered my own question. It is always, then and now, only about you!"
"That's bullshit!"
"Oh really? All the sports I played were so you could brag about it, be with your buddies at the games and probably pretend that it was really you out there playing. Sure keep telling yourself you did it for me. What a load of crap. You are completely selfish!"
The man jumped out of his recliner at that, face reddened and vein throbbing all over again. The younger one got up as well, though with some physical distress.
"I will not take that lip from you, not here in MY house. Remember its MY HOUSE! You're the one crawling over here asking for a favor, not me."
They just stared at each other; neither backed down or gave any indication that there might be room for compromise, for emotions other than anger, for reconciliation.
"You say I'm selfish. What about you? Look at yourself! I think you did everything out of spite and self-centeredness. Oh look at me, I'm a rebel. Bullshit!" He banged a fist down on the coffee table with a loud crash.
"I finally do something for me because I want to and that makes it selfish? Then you are the Emperor of selfish, the crowning King of ME! I sometimes wonder if you even loved Mom or were you more concerned about what she looked like, what she could do for you." Retorted the younger.
"----- ----- -----"
"For the first time in my life I've left you speechless."
"Get out! Get out and keep going!"
There was nothing left to say, nothing left to do but leave. At the door they faced one another again.
"Your no son of mine, my son is dead, I have no son." Were the last words from the now seemingly much older man, not in a shout but almost a whisper.
(S)he turned back while standing in the open doorway, hand on the knob.
"I'm not dead, but I can certainly say you now have no son. The surgeons took care of that with the final operation, and apparently the position of daughter is not available. "
With that the door was closed, forever.
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