Page 10 of Feels Like Home

When Aidan came home with yetanothercracked screen on his cell, I lost it. And the sad part is? It’s not even the broken screen that’s the problem. The fact that Heatherstillhasn’t checked in on the boys in the three months she’s been gone, that’s really got me pissed off. But the cracked screen just pushed me over the edge of my already angryattitude.

“I don’t care if it was an accident!” I roar, pacing through our living room like a caged lion. “I’m sick of you boys being so careless with your stuff! It’s not like money just grows ontrees!”

“Oh, my gosh, Dad! I can’tbelieveyou just said that,” Reece groans, moving from his position on the couch to stand in front of Aidan, like he’s protecting him from mywrath.

“What?”

He laughs, breaking up the constant tension in our home. “You sound like an oldman.”

I chuckle, despite my pissed-off attitude that doesn’t seem to want to goaway.

One would think I was a woman about to get herperiod.

I just can’t get over the fact that she’s just…vanished.

No phonecalls.

No Happy Thanksgivingmessage.

No cards in the mail when they turnedfourteen.

Nada.

Zip.

Nothing.

And I’m the one who gets to see the hurt lingering in their eyes every single morning after they try to go to sleep at night, wondering why their mother didn’t love them enough to get over her own shit, suck it up, and stayaround.

Just like they go to bed every night wondering, I wake up every morning hoping — but at the same time not hoping — to see a message waiting from her for theboys.

I don’t want her back — I also don’t really even want her back in the boys’ lives if I’m being completely honest, but they deserve an explanation. None of what’s happening is theirfault.

They didn’t ask to be born to a woman who didn’t want to be amother.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I was pulling my stuff out of my locker, and it just fell. You know we’re not supposed to have our phones with us inclass.”

“So why wasn’t it in the case?” I ask, trying to keep my temper atbay.

He shrugs and looks down at the ground, mumbling an apology and something about it needingcleaned.

I take a deep breath and blow it out then look to the ceiling, placing my hands on the back of myneck.

It’s December, and my mood isshit.

The weather isgloomy.

Work is slow, which allows my mind way too much time towander.

I think about life with Heather and how shitty of a wife shewas.

I think about how the first place I went after finding Heather with another man was Dreamin’ Beans and how I can’t seem to get Christine out of my thoughtseither.

And what sheconfessed.

That she understood what I was goingthrough.

Probably better than anyoneelse.

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