Then Do It

Chapter 19

"Want to go for a walk?" I ask Chloe.

"Sure," she shrugs and I throw on a hoodie before putting my shoes on. 

"Do you wanna borrow my hat?" I offer as I notice she doesn't have one.

"Sure, thanks," she nods and I hand her mine. 

"Ready?" I ask as she puts the hat on. 

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom first."

"Okay, I'll wait for you outside," she nods and goes to the bathroom as I head towards the door. 

My phone buzzes so I check it as I open the door. It's just a post notification so I put my phone back in my pocket as I look outside. Seeing a familiar pair of work boots I stop in the doorway.

"What's up?" Chloe asks as she puts her jacket on.

"Dad," there's more anger in my voice than I intend but I don't really care right now.

"I just wanted to bring you your Christmas present," Dad hands me a thin envelope that can only be a card. 

"That's it?" I put the card in my pocket. "That's all you wanted to do?" 

"'Kinda," he nods and starts to walk away.

"No," I step out as he stops to face me. "You can't do that."

"Do what?" 

"You can't ignore me for weeks then stop in at nine PM on Christmas just to give me a card,"

"I'm the adult here. You're just a kid. You don't know who you are yet," he counters. "You think you know but you don't."

"I know that I am not Amelia. I'm Asher and I'm a boy. I'm also not okay with my father acting like a dead beat."

"Careful throwin' that around," he warns.

"Or what? You'll leave again? That's exactly what a dead beat is. You left. You ran away from your responsibilities to marry some bitch that hates me!" I can't stop the anger that bubbles up.

"You can't tell me you ain't my daughter and expect me to be okay with it."

"That's not what I want!" I don't mean to yell it but it just comes out. "All I want is for you to respect me. You say you're the adult but I'm always the one to contact you. I'm the one that tells you happy birthday every year no matter what. I'm the one that asks if I can see you. And I'm the one that apologizes when you get drunk!"

"Don't talk to your father like that!" His voice cuts through the air like a deep roar of thunder. 

"You are no father," I mumble barely able to hear it myself.

"What?"

"I said you are no father! You're just a drunk, racist, homophobic piece of shit!" I can feel the tears well up in my eyes as my vision blurs and a bubble rises in my throat. "If you were a father you wouldn't have left! You wouldn't have left Mom to work sixty hours a week just to keep the house heated! You would've been there when I woke up during a thunderstorm! Do you know how many times I've cried myself to sleep because of you?!" He steps back from me as I stay where I am. "How many times Mom had to lay in my bed with me just to get me to calm down enough to tell her what's wrong!? I've stayed awake asking myself what I did to make you leave?! What I did wrong." I can hear my voice waver but I ignore it. "I've asked myself so many times. What did I do? Was I not good enough for you to stay?"

"You can't pin all the blame on me."

"Why not?! Mom didn't leave. I didn't leave. I'm tired of feeling sorry for you. I'm tired of thinking I did something to drive you away. I'm done trying to get through to you."