Scent (Scomiche)

Might As Well Make Her Middle Name 'Brat'... Just Kidding, That Wouldn't Help

“Oh, that’s funny, because I say you’re not going to Damian’s house tonight.”

Her face contorts, I think trying to make me feel intimidated. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“Cool,” I say, standing up. “Come on, let’s go.”

She sits there, almost stunned. “No.”

“Yup, we’re going. I’m not buying you ice cream if you think you can talk to me like that.”

She stands, trying to grab the keys from me. I pull back. “Come on, let’s go.”

We walk out to the car and I wait for her to get into the passenger’s side. She turns away, knees pressing against the door, obviously not willing to talk to me. That’s fine.

I drive us back to her apartment, thinking about how glad I am that she didn’t just start walking to Damian’s place. I’m not a parent. I wouldn’t have known what to do in that situation.

When I park, we walk up to the apartment together, her not saying a word, me telling her to stay in front of me (so she can’t leave randomly). We get inside, she stomps to her room, and her door slams shut. Scott, watching from the kitchen, jumps a little when the door slams.

“Hey,” he greets nervously. “How was the drive?”

I laugh a little. “How does it seem like it went?”

“Really well!” He jokes, tearing some lettuce from the big head of it he has in front of him.

I go lean against the counter to his right. “I asked her why she called you Scott and not dad, she said some pretty rude things to me, I told her she couldn’t go to Damian’s, and now here we are.”

He nods surprised. “That worked? When I tell her that kind of stuff she usually refuses to get in the car.”

“I’m glad she didn’t do that. I’ll go try to talk to her later.”

“Good luck,” he wishes me then starts chopping up the leaves. “Good thing I bought a little extra so she can eat with us. She probably won’t, but I’ll offer it.”

“Well she’ll come out and sit with us with it in front of her then.”

He looks up to me fully, stopping his knife. “You’re harsh.”

“You have to show her the consequences of talking to people like they don’t have feelings.”

“What did she say to you?” He questions, going back to preparing the salad.

“Basically that I have no authority because I haven’t seen her in the last five years and that I’m not a real adult. I don’t know. It was just so snappy.” I pause. “I probably overreacted.”

He shakes his head. “I support what you did. She actually listened to you, so no matter what she said, she obviously respects you more than me.”

The way he says it so plainly hurts so much. He’s just accepted the fact that she doesn’t respect him and that she won’t visit him later in life and that he’s not even a father figure in her eyes. She desensitized him too much.

“I won’t take away the punishment, but I’ll apologize later.”

He tosses the leaves into a bowl then grabs some peeled carrots. “I’ll stay out of it this time if you want me to.”

Suddenly my heart is just aching so badly that I almost need to sit down. He didn’t sign up for this. I mean, he did when he married Christian, but he didn’t sign up for this. For this hardcore parenting of a girl who doesn’t even think she’s his.