Page 50 of Catfish

His promises—still waiting for them to come true.

And since I don’t believe in fairytales, I’d be waiting a long ass time for those to evolve into a happy ending.

The door erupts open, followed by a wave of irritation on my part while exhibiting my father standing behind it.

Dressed in a navy blue Kiton suit and royal blue tie, he strides into my office like he owns this space, my fucking space that I paid for.

“Wade.” His tone is cold and separated, a business deal that he spawned so that he could live vicariously through me and what I could make out of his long career as congressman.

I don’t respond, calling him my father out loud is a joke.

We used to be close, he was supportive but strict, going to my football games in high school and college and critiquing my debate classes. Beaming at how good and smart of a son I was and how I was going to go places.

Remember those promises I was talking about?

I stopped waiting for mine. Because my father, he took my life, shit on it, and mislead me in the deepest and darkest way he possibly could. Got me into this fucking mess in my head that I could never fully cloak.

And I can’t find the light in the pitch black of my own mind.

“Did you forget how to use your phone?” my father, Henry, asks. “You have secretaries to help you with that, right?”

“Oh, you mean they aren’t for me to fuck?” I fold my hands together, resting them on my torso as my father unbuttons his coat and takes a seat in front of me.

“Pettiness won’t make you a good president,” he asserts, unaffected. He’s always had a good way of deflecting my words from the things I accuse him of.

And he never bothers to deny them. I guess I can thank him for not denying the fact that he’s an ass clown.

“You don’t need to worry about that, Henry. I’m doing just fine on my own.”

He props his leg on the knee of his other. "So I've seen, but you need more support."

“I already have it,” I deadpan.

“You don’t have your family around you like everyone else does. You look like a bachelor who just wants to become president because it’d look good to throw on your resume.”

“Don’t need my perfect family to help me win this.”

Henry stares at me. “But you will.”

Leaning forward, I rest both of my elbows on my desk, fixing him with a glare so powerful—in my head—that I wish it’d catch him on fire. “I just said...I got it handled.”

“What you say, Wade, and what’s been said outside your little governor’s office are two different things. Your mother is beside herself with you not answering her calls and messages, and frankly, I’m getting tired of hearing her complain about it.”

I give a nonchalant shrug. “Not my problem.”

“It’s going to be your problem when reporters start questioning you on where your congressman father is and why your mother isn't nit-picking your attire like a normal female. Buzzing and rumors will commence about if you have any bad blood in the family, or are you the rebel who cut everyone off because you had a hissy fit over an arrangement I made for you." His eyes slit into disappointment. "Man up and play the part. You're already doing a good job of keeping everything else quiet."

“Don’t talk about my life,” I leer. “When you’re the reason—”

“Quit whining,” he snaps. “Lockwoods don’t complain, they just do. Do your damn job and make this dream of yours come true. With the backing of my political friends and whatever it is you have ‘handled’—”This motherfucker just air quoted me with his fingers. “—we’ll make this happen.”

Deep breathe.

It’s not worth it.

It never is.

"Did you come in here to bitch at me for not responding to your shit, or did you come for something that is worth my time?"

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